A Crooked Trail or Two

Not Blown Away! Or, Running at Red Mountain Open Space

2011-11-27T18:29:00.065-07:00

In an effort to make the long weekend last a little longer, eight Fort Collins Trail Runners decided to go for a run at Red Mountain Open Space. We knew it might be a bit cold, but the wind! Wow.

This was wind the likes of which I have rarely encountered outside Wyoming. And did I mention one of the trails we took led us into Wyoming for a bit? I kid you not: just when I thought the wind couldn't blow any harder, we experienced a gust that nearly sent Mary flying off the trail. And then looking up from the trail, what did we see? A marker indicating we were "leaving Red Mountain Open Space" and "entering Big Hole Open Space, City of Cheyenne." Wyoming... Go figure!!

The strong headwind at the start of the run meant that for the first part of the run, it hardly mattered if we were going uphill or down: significant effort was required for any kind of forward motion. But the last half of the run was heavenly, as that same wind helped us feel like we were flying back to the trailhead. And despite the wind, all eight starters finished: no one was blown away.
Thanks, all, for the great run!

At the start, wondering why, exactly, we're heading out for a run in this hurricane.

A mini "stream crossing."

Wild-west scenery. Where's John Wayne?

Tiny stream crossing #2.

Gorgeous vista after a big climb.

One upside of the big winds: great visibility!

Wind at our backs, we prepare to fly back to the trailhead.

THERE's that wild-west movie scene.

Thanks, all... and see you on the trail!

Donner Going Strong at 100

2011-11-03T07:43:00.001-06:00

Just wanted to wish a happy belated birthday to Louise Donner of Denver, who turned 100 in August and was featured recently in the Denver Post. She still plays tennis twice a week and is enjoying good health. When asked for her words of advice, she replied:

"I don't have any advice for anyone because they wouldn't take it. Except that I grew up on the idea that fresh air was the best thing for you. Go play outdoors."

Amen, Mrs. Donner, amen.

100-year-old Louise Donner at her tennis club, the Pinehurst Country Club, where she plays tennis with pro Marshall Carpenter twice a week on the clay court. Photo by Cyrus McCrimmon, The Denver Post.

You heard the lady; go play outdoors, friends! And see you on the trail.

Trail Running: The Latest Hit Video Game, from the Makers of Resident Evil

2011-11-01T21:41:00.004-06:00

As far as gaming goes, I am a total novice. A couple years ago, out of the blue, my mom gave me and Christi a Nintendo Wii for Christmas, and until two months ago we've only used it to stream Netflix movies. Toward the end of the summer, though, we thought it might be fun to give a game a try, and so -- being zombie fans -- we bought one: Resident Evil 4.

The funny thing about it? As soon as I started playing, I found parallels between Resident Evil and trail running. The game opens with Leon -- the game's protagonist whose actions the gamer controls -- running down a trail, through the trees. After running for a bit, Leon even starts breathing heavily, as you do on the run.

During the game, you have to maintain Leon's life levels (the little green meter in the bottom-right corner of the screen), just like on the run. Once you rescue Ashley -- the president's daughter -- from the villains, you have to look after her life levels too. It's a bit like going for a run with other runners, or with your dogs. While you're looking after yourself you also need to watch those you run with, making sure your running buddies aren't going to bonk, and taking care to ensure your dogs are properly hydrated.

So what do you do to take care of your life levels, and the life levels of Ashley (or your trail-running companions)? It's just like running; you have to eat!

In Resident Evil 4, to restore your energy, herbs are the ticket. The little green plants appear as you're playing the game, sometimes as the result of slaying a zombie-type opponent; sometimes you just come upon it on the trail -- a little like the way you sometimes come upon a packet of GU that may have fallen out of a trail-runner's pocket inadvertently.

Then, there are the similarities in scenes. Much of the action in Resident Evil 4 takes place on trails in remote parts of rural Spain. It's arid, forested terrain -- not all that different from our Colorado trails. Sometimes in the game, you have to dodge falling boulders...

Other times, you have to duck into abandoned-looking shacks along the side of the trail...

...the similarities made me laugh last time I was out on the trail.

So, next time you hear a rustle on the side of the trail, step lively! It could be a bear, or a mountain lion... or maybe even a zombie! Keep your life levels up and your eyes open... and I'll see you on the trail!

The Streak is Dead. Long Live the Streak!

2011-10-27T20:54:00.002-06:00

Three weeks ago, I announced the start of my first running streak. Sadly, that streak ended one week ago after only fourteen consecutive days, a casualty of the terrible cold that has been dogging me for almost a week.

But just as sovereignty passes immediately from one monarch to the next upon the death of a king or queen, I'm finding myself motivated to launch a new streak on the heels of the old one, having managed to (at least mostly!) shake this cold, and having seen the benefits of running every day, brief though that streak ultimately was.

So... the new streak starts tomorrow! And this time around, I have company! Ean's decision to start her streak was just the motivation I needed to launch my new one.

So... to adapt that immortal proclamation that has closed almost every coronation since 1422: The streak is dead. Long live the streak!

See you on the trail.

Big Weekend, Coming Up!

2011-10-20T06:30:00.000-06:00

If you're an athlete in northern Colorado, this is going to be a great weekend!

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 22:

From 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. Saturday, Runners Without Borders will be taking place at Lory State Park. Stay the whole day if you like, or drop by for an hour or two. If you're running between 10:30 a.m. and noon I'll be recording your laps at the start/finish, so do say hello! The event will raise funds for Doctors Without Borders, and will be SO much fun we'll be talking about it for years to come. So check out Scott's blog for details, and don't miss out!

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 23:

Then, on Sunday evening, Forge Motion Pictures, Fort Collins Herbivores, and Jax Outdoor Gear are co-sponsoring "Fueled: Extreme Adventure Powered By Simple Foods." The event starts at 7pm with a screening of the short film "Wildwater," featuring world-class whitewater kayaker and vegan athlete Darcy Gaechter. Following the screening, there will be a panel discussion and q & a with Darcy and three local vegan athletes... including me! I firmly believe that lifestyle choices like veganism are intensely personal, so I avoid proselytizing about being (or going!) vegan, but if veganism is something you're curious about and you'd like to learn more, please join me at the Bean Cycle for this event. It will be a great forum to learn more about being vegan, and how to fuel your athletic endeavors with a plant-based diet. Click on the image to enlarge, & view event details.

Have a great weekend, everyone, and see you on the trail!

Munus Explendum!

2011-10-16T16:21:00.000-06:00

One of the best benefits of working at a great engineering school is getting to know talented, enthusiastic students. One such student, Chad Bohac, earned his engineering degree this past spring and then set out on the Appalachian Trail, with a goal of thru-hiking it from south to north. A few days ago, he sent me this photo:

Chad at the summit of Mt. Katahdin, Maine.

Please excuse me while I gush with pride, but it's just so awesome that Chad finished, and even more cool to hear about the myriad adventures he enjoyed along the way. The people he met, the scenery he enjoyed, the days and days of eating PBJ and the monotony of the trail, punctuated by many instances of "trail magic" over the course of his hike... it was an incredible journey.

Chad's adventure is an inspiration to me, and in his last Appalachian Trail update he noted he hoped it would encourage others, too:

I hope to be on the other end of similar updates from some of you, in any adventures you may go on, whatever the scale, in the wilds of the mountains or the civilized jungles. May you never lose the spring in your step and the sparkle in your eye, and may you always walk stubbornly towards your goal, no matter how far away.

Amen, Mr. Bohac!

See you on the trail.

Tying Your Shoes

2011-10-13T19:26:00.004-06:00

Sometimes, it's the little things that help to create success. Champion UCLA basketball coach John Wooden famously spent the first basketball practice, each year, teaching players to put on their socks properly. After all, it only takes one wrinkle in your sock to cause a blister and distract a player from making the game-winning shot. It's like the famous "For want of a nail...the kingdom was lost" proverb: little things can make a huge difference.

I'm going to assume, if you're a trailrunner, that you already know how to put on your socks. But do you know how to lace up your shoes? It makes me sound (more than) a little insane, but I've been tinkering for years with different lacing patterns and checking out how other runners handle this, trying to achieve the very best fit possible. I like a lot of room in the toebox (so my toes won't go numb) coupled with some kind of anchoring mechanism to keep my foot from sliding forward on those steep downhills (I've lost plenty of toenails, but each time it happens again, it still hurts!)

Finally, I think my years of tinkering and observation have resulted in a truly excellent lacing regimen -- one that allows for a roomy toebox but keeps the foot from sliding forward. On the off chance that it helps you, too, here goes...

Start the usual way, with the laces strung through the first set of holes or loops:

Then, string the laces straight up the sides of the shoe, without crossing them. Depending on your shoe, this means not crossing the laces for 2 or 3 holes/loops:

At a spot approximately over your arch, cross the laces and thread them into the opposite holes or loops (this may also be the point at which you guide the laces through the loop that holds the tongue of the shoe in place):

Then, cross the laces again until you've used up all but the top two holes or loops:

This is where it gets a little bit harder to describe. First, cross the laces over each other and thread the laces on each side up from underneath the very top hole:

Then, push the lace down from above, into the next-to-top hole, creating a loop:

You'll end up with an image something like this, with two loops sticking out each side of the top of the shoe:

Finally, take the lace ends, and thread them into the loops you've just created:

...so in the end, your shoes look like this:

Everyone's feet are different, so I can't guarantee that this method will work for you. In the past few days, though, I've been very happy with it.

Happy running, and see you on the trail!

The Start of a Streak

2011-10-06T08:01:00.002-06:00

I've been mulling the idea over for a while, but I think the time has come. I am going to become a streaker.

No... not THIS kind of streaker (however fun that might be...)

Maria Sharapova watches as a streaker interrupts her quarter-final match with Russia's Elena Dementieva at the Wimbledon tennis championships in London July 4, 2006. Photo by Kevin Lamarque for Reuters.

No, I'm talking about a running streak: a set of uninterrupted days of running.

I talked this over with Kristel on the run this morning, and I think it will be a good way for me to launch my fall training and build my weekly mileage.

Here's my plan:
I'm going to start with a goal of completing a 30-day streak. The United States Running Streak Association (yes, there is such a thing!) defines a streak as "to run at least one continuous mile within each calendar day under one's own body power."

For the purposes of this streak, though, I'm inclined to follow Pete's example and go out for at least 30 minutes of running each day. I cite him here because his reasons for streaking, and his approach (alternating hard efforts with super-easy efforts, so that not having a complete "rest" day doesn't take a toll on his body) is exactly what I'm aiming for:

Last year after I started taking a lot of extra days off, everything seemed to fall apart. It wasn’t just my running focus – work, personal plans, and even my sleep schedule were really thrown off. Going out each day for 30 minutes really isn’t that much physical effort. I don’t have any rule to set a minimum distance. As long as I go out with the intention of covering some distance as best I can for 30 minutes each day, I count it as a streak run. Most of my extra streak runs are very slow, easy jogs with my dogs. It’s not much extra effort for me but they definitely appreciate it.

I, too, have noticed that it's the rest days that tend to throw me off, motivation-wise. Whenever I'm out on a run, I'm happy and motivated to do more... I just need to be sure I get out there to keep my training on track.

So... here we go! Day 1 is covered, thanks to Kristel and our trek up Towers this morning (through some of the smoke from Tuesday's prescribed burn!). 29 days to go... and then I'll re-evaluate to see whether I should commit to another 30 days.

See you on the trail!

Mark Your Calendar for Runners Without Borders!

2011-09-29T09:17:00.002-06:00

Many of you are aware of the ongoing crisis in the Horn of Africa, the result of a complicated nexus of war, famine, and a broad range of other geopolitical factors, both short and long term. Somalis have endured instability and factional violence for more than 30 years, well before the current Somali Civil War began with Siad Barre's ouster in 1991, but recent droughts and genocidal campaigns have made life much, much worse in recent months for Somalia's people. (All photos by Brendan Bannon.)

The easiest thing to do in a seemingly hopeless situation like the one in Somalia is to shrug your shoulders, sigh, and change the channel. After all, what difference could a single person make? Fortunately, that's not the approach of my friend Scott. A former Peace Corps volunteer, ultrarunner, and all-around good guy, Scott has decided to organize an event to raise funds for Doctors Without Borders, an international humanitarian organization that provides emergency medical care to populations in danger, in more than sixty countries around the world, every single year. That event, Runners Without Borders, will be held at Lory State Park on Saturday, October 22, 2011. I'll be there, and I hope you will, too.

The basic idea is this: Scott has designated two loops in Lory State Park (part of the trails also go into Horsetooth Mountain Park - see Scott's blog for a detailed map.) On October 22, between 8 am and 4 pm, for every runner (or hiker, or biker) who completes either of the two trail loops, Scott will donate one dollar to Doctors Without Borders. If you complete both loops, Scott will donate two dollars. If you complete one loop 2 times, that's two dollars. 10 loops, 10 dollars. You get the idea. Since then, a number of other runners have also stepped up to pledge funds to match Scott's gifts, so who knows how many dollars each loop may be worth by the end of the day.

I am pledging five dollars per loop that I run, and I'll pledge one dollar for every loop that you run (or walk, or bike), too -- up to fifty dollars. I wish I could give more, but truly, every gift counts. As an efficient, experienced organization, Doctors Without Borders can accomplish a lot with even a small gift. $35 provides two high-energy emergency meal-replacement biscuits per day for 11 children for a week. $50 provides vaccinations for 50 people against meningitis, measles, polio or other deadly epidemics. $100 means that 40 wounded patients can reap the benefits of infection-fighting antibiotics. And larger gifts can accomplish even more.

Perhaps you're already familiar with the trails at Lory & Horsetooth, but on the off chance that you're not -- and as an added incentive to participate -- Jasper and Gus decided to preview the "grande route" loop to show you just what a beautiful course Scott has put together for the Runners Without Borders event. Check it out!

Near the start of the loop, a view over the valley.

Near the trail junction of Towers and Stout.

Nice vista along the Stout Trail.

Doesn't this look like scenic fun?

Another great view, this one from the Mill Creek Trail.

Forested switchbacks on the Mill Creek Trail.

Descending toward the start/finish in Lory State Park.

Hope to see you at Runners Without Borders on October 22. See you on the trail!

Mysterious Motivation

2011-09-18T16:56:00.000-06:00

The mental aspects of ultrarunning are such a mystery sometimes. For some reason, as I headed out on this morning's long run, I just couldn't get into it. My legs felt dead, my mind couldn't get into the groove, and I had trouble getting my steps into any kind of rhythm as I headed up the Horsetooth Rock Trail. I was feeling a little better as I descended Wathen, but on the way up Spring Creek I tripped and managed to scrape one leg and one arm up pretty well. My mood sank again.

I came very close to turning around right then. As I dusted myself off and used my hydration pack to wash some of the grit out of my scrapes, I couldn't help thinking, "what am I doing out here today?" But then I realized, my mood was not likely to improve by cutting the run short. I decided to continue.

And then something funny happened. Just by making that choice, to continue heading up the hill instead of turning around, something shifted and my run began to come together. My stride relaxed. My shoulders unclenched. I began to notice how fragrant the forest air was. It ended up being an extremely pleasant run, and I'm so glad I stuck with it.

After all, if I'd turned around, I'd have missed this: a perfect September morning in Fort Collins, Colorado.
Wishing you all the motivation you need to enjoy every run you take. See you on the trail!

Happy Sunday, Friends!

2011-08-28T09:11:00.001-06:00

See you on the trail!

Running with Grandma

2011-08-01T19:30:00.021-06:00

Today would've been my grandmother's 86th birthday, had she not passed away on Thanksgiving Day last year. Given that Grandma was such an avid hiker, it was only natural that I took today, her birthday, to go for a run in one of her very favorite places: Rocky Mountain National Park.

I ran up the trail to Lake Ypsilon, sometimes in silence, sometimes greeting hikers on the trail. The weather was gorgeous and there were an astounding number of wildflowers still in bloom, despite this being August. In short, it was a beautiful day.

Happy birthday, Grandma. I miss you.

Here is calm so deep, grasses cease waving.
Everything in wild nature fits into us,
as if truly part and parent of us.
The sun shines not on us but in us.
The rivers flow not past, but through us,
thrilling, tingling, vibrating every fiber and cell
of the substance of our bodies,
Making them glide and sing.
The trees wave and the flowers bloom
in our bodies as well as our souls,
and every bird song, wind song,
and; tremendous storm song of the rocks
in the heart of the mountains is our song,
our very own, and sings our love.

-John Muir

See you on the trail!

The Healing Power of a Running Group

2011-07-15T07:29:00.002-06:00

Some of you may remember hearing about the horrible car crash in July 2009, when Diane Schuler drove the wrong way on the Taconic Parkway, colliding her minivan with an oncoming S.U.V. Eight people were killed, including Ms. Schuler, her 2-year-old daughter, Erin, and her three nieces, Emma, 8; Alyson, 7; and Katie, 5, as well as three men in the S.U.V.

Until very recently, Jackie Hance (the mother of Emma, Alyson, and Katie) has tried to stay out of the spotlight and cope with her grief privately, but recently she gave an interview to the Ladies' Home Journal because in a few days HBO will be airing a film on the incident that Jackie and her husband did not participate in, and which (apparently) tries to make the crash appear as though it was caused by an undiagnosed health problem, not alcohol and drugs. Jackie wanted to offer her perspective before the film airs.

I'm not going to comment much further about this; it's exactly the kind of tragedy one would never wish on one's worst enemy, and the Hances should be allowed time and space to grieve. But one thing she said in the interview really struck me: the integral role her running group is playing in helping her survive this awful, awful loss. As she says in the article:

I’ve learned that all you can do is put one foot in front of the other — sometimes quite literally. Several days a week my running group shows up at my door before dawn to take me on a six-mile run. We have done it for years, and even though I don’t always want to go anymore, I join them because it’s what I did before the accident. We’re back by 6:15 a.m., which used to be great because then I could make breakfast for the girls and pack their lunch. Now I come back to a silent, empty house. But at least it forces me to start the day. If I didn’t get up to run, I would have no reason to get out of bed.

There is certainly something about running that draws us all together in a special way, and my friendships with other runners are such an important part of my well-being. May something so horrible never, ever happen to any of us. Take care, Jackie, and thank you, Jackie's running group. Keep on running, everyone.

See you on the trail!

Ultrarunning as a (virtual) spectator sport

2011-07-12T20:51:00.004-06:00

Ultramarathons are not ideal spectator events. Almost by definition, ultramarathons take place on isolated trails, and part of the point of the sport is figuring out how to motivate yourself to keep moving forward, even if you're running alone, in the dark, on a trail in the middle of nowhere, with no one else looking out for you. It's not exactly the kind of sport that accommodates itself easily to throngs of cheering fans, except for those infrequent hubs of light, mirth and activity known as "aid stations." And if you're trying to "watch the game" remotely, you're even less likely to be able to get a sense of how things are going out on the trail. This is not football, folks! No play-by-play here!

All the same, I've been amazed over the past couple weeks to discover how compelling it can be to "follow" an ultramarathon on the internet. So many of my good friends ran in the Bighorn Trail 100 in June, and I carefully tracked their progress online. A week later, I tuned in to the webcast of the Western States 100, with almost-live results posted at each aid station, to "watch" local superstar Nick Clark as he ran this legendary race for the second time (ultimately finishing third in a screaming-fast 15:50:23 -- a time that in almost any other year would've been good for first place!) And less than two weeks later, it was the Hardrock 100 that kept me checking the computer periodically to see how Pete Stevenson and Nick were doing, making their way across the ups and downs of this very challenging course.

Perhaps I have an over-active imagination, but throughout the day as I checked the computer, refreshing the page, awaiting each runner's arrival at the next aid station, I really did feel like I had a window into the race. I could almost "see" the runners pass each other, or fall behind, and (occasionally) drop from the race. Sure, to any observer I was just maniacally refreshing the same spreadsheet over and over -- something slightly less compelling than watching paint dry -- but to me it was an awesome way to follow my friends through the challenges of their choosing.

It's no substitute for being there, and I doubt that the Western States or Hardrock webcasts will overtake the SuperBowl anytime soon as the most-watched sporting event in America, but I'm surprised by just how exciting it can be to follow a race in this way. Thank you, race volunteers, for making this kind of tracking possible!

Happy running, and see you on the trail!

Lumpy Ridge Run

2011-07-01T20:30:00.002-06:00

To get the 4th of July weekend off to a good start, Friday morning found me making my way, pre-dawn, to the Lumpy Ridge trailhead for a quick run on one of the front range's loveliest loop trails. The morning was perfect for a run: sunny and clear, but cool. The flowers were a bit past their prime, but still, many blossoms blanketed the meadows I crossed at the loop's beginning. I don't know if it was the slightly thinner mountain air, or the heady scent of the flowers, or just the sheer joy of a great run on a beautiful day, but I felt positively high as I covered the 11 miles of the loop. What a great run!

Enjoy the photos, and see you on the trail!

A Two-Part Run for a Four-Day Weekend

2011-05-28T21:51:00.002-06:00

I knew I'd need to get in some time on my feet before the Bighorn 50-miler, so I decided to take a day off from work the Friday before Memorial Day weekend and get some running in, launching a "four-day weekend" on the trail. I started part 1 of my run at 6 am at the Round Mountain trailhead, in the Big Thompson Canyon. It had been a couple months since my last run on this trail, and I figured it would be a good way to get in some elevation gain as well, as it's a 2700-foot climb in a little under five miles.

Round Mountain is one trail where one can fairly reliably see bears, but speedy Yonder Mountain Trail Runner (aka Rob) must've cleared the trail of them; I didn't see any yesterday. Thanks, Rob! We crossed paths as he was descending from the summit and agreed it was a gorgeous morning for a run. The views up the path were great.

This is a great trail for cool rock formations, especially after the 2nd mile.

A view looking across the Big Thompson Canyon.

More cool-looking rocks.

The power of water, ice and time carved out this basin just past mile 2.

There was a pretty good variety of wildflowers blooming.

The trail cuts through a number of interesting rock formations.

Great view!

The Round Mountain trail is maintained by volunteers and the City of Loveland, and one thing you can say about Lovelanders: they sure have a thing for cairn-building! That, or perhaps they're into a stone-worshiping cult hitherto unknown to civilization. I kid you not: there are about 15 cairns in the final 0.2 miles to the summit. These nine represent but a small selection:

But hey -- at least you won't get lost, right?

Actually, I think I may be onto something with this stone-worshiping hypothesis, because when you reach the summit of Round Mountain, what do you find? A massive cairn, of course!

No views from the summit, but the cairn is pretty huge.

On the descent, there were lots of birds: western tanagers, grosbeaks, and dusky grouse, just to name a few. Though I didn't see any bears, I did see lots of deer, chipmunks and squirrels.

I wasn't quite able to get two full summits in, but logged almost 18 miles before I had to head back to Fort Collins and attend to a few things before starting part 2 of the day's long run: a mellow, sunny run with Sarah and Roo on part of our HURT training loop, where an interesting nature encounter was a highlight of the day. Sarah and Roo were moving at a good pace, ahead of me on the trail, when out of the corner of my eye I saw something move:

It's amazing how close we all came to stepping on this beauty, despite his/her size.

Apparently, it being 30-some minutes into our run, Sarah, Roo and I were too relaxed into our "trail zen" to notice this fairly large snake, dozing in the sun along the side of the trail. We all came really close to stepping on it, but I jumped (and likely squealed like a little girl) when I noticed the motion, so Sarah and Roo ended up on one end of the snake, while I was on the other. Once we determined the snake wasn't a rattler, I moved past it and after snapping another photo we moved on. (The snake made it clear that was his/her preferred plan for us too):

After that encounter, Roo continued to flinch at anything in the trail that remotely resembled a snake: curvy sticks, shadows... he was not going to be surprised like that again!

It was a gorgeous day: sunny, but not too hot. The trails are still soft from recent rains, and in good company, the miles passed quickly. By the end of the day, I'd logged a little over 50k in two segments, and my four-day weekend was off to an awesome start.

See you on the trail!

Nick's Crosier Mountain Triple-Bagger

2011-05-09T20:17:00.006-06:00

I wondered, in last week's post about Pete's Greyrock Six Pack, what awesome running adventure he would dream up next. Well, I didn't have to wait long before the answer came, and not from Pete: this time, Nick was the impetus behind the Crosier Mountain Triple-Bagger, a three-part run using all three Crosier Mountain trailheads.

I didn't have time to summit all three trails, so I planned a Crosier Mountain "Double" instead, summiting from the Garden Gate and Rainbow trailheads, sadly depriving myself of the fun of the trail up from the Glen Haven trailhead. I and 12 other trail-running crazies from the Fort Collins Trailrunners met early Saturday morning at the Garden Gate trailhead, and by 5:40, we were off! The group spread out according to pace, but one cool aspect of the triple-summiting was that on certain sections, runners' paths crossed, so I was rarely alone on the trail.

The Garden Gate segment is the longest, at about five miles, but the scenery changes so often that you hardly notice the miles go by. The trail starts with a few short switchbacks up a meadow, then a few more switchbacks in a forest, and then flattens out a bit in a meadow before climbing again. At about 2.5 miles, you reach a really cool area with lots of boulders and rock formations, followed by a short downhill section before the final climb up Crosier Peak. Near the top, I fell into step with Brian, and talking about the upcoming Bighorn 50-mile race, which we're both running in a few weeks, the time flew by and we soon found ourselves at this sign, which marks the three-way split between the summit trail, the Garden Gate Trail, and the trail that descends toward the Glen Haven and Rainbow trailheads:

This sign, and a cairn at the side of the trail, mark the spot where you turn left to summit.

From this point, it's about 1/2 mile to the top, and fairly steep the whole way. Summiting together, Brian and I took in the awesome view:

The summit, at 9,250 feet, isn't all that high, but it offers an impressive vista of higher peaks. Panning left to right, you can see Mt. Meeker, Longs Peak, Storm Peak, McHenrys Peak, Thatchtop, Taylor Peak, Otis Peak, Hallett Peak, Flattop Mountain, Stones Peak, Sundance Mountain, Mt. Chiquita, Ypsilon, Fairchild, Mummy Peak, Hagues, Dunraven, and Stormy Peak. We were really lucky that it was such a clear day. Brian and I also snapped a photo of ourselves "looking totally epic" at the top, but alas, it and three or four other photos I'd taken on the way up seem to have been deleted when my camera slipped from my hands later on, partway down the Rainbow trail.

The trail descending toward the Rainbow trailhead is a wide road through fairly dense forest, and it felt great to cruise downhill after all that climbing.

Pasque flowers lined the trail.

Descending toward the Rainbow trailhead, I crossed paths with Nick, Sam, and Scott as they climbed back up toward the summit. I also met up with Chris, who was just starting his run from the Rainbow trailhead. I tagged the parking lot at Rainbow, then headed back up to the Crosier summit, crossing paths with Brian and Alex A., who were not far behind me (and who both managed to finish the triple-bagger -- way to stick it out, gentlemen!)

Heading back up toward the summit, a beautiful dusky grouse crossed paths with me a couple times. This climb was steeper, but much shorter than the Garden Gate ascent, and somehow felt a lot easier. The sun came out and before long I was back at the three-way intersection to Crosier's summit. Here, I started to feel the effects of all the morning's climbing; this last half-mile push to the top definitely felt tougher the second time around! I met Chris, who was coming down from the summit. It's amazing how a few encouraging words exchanged between runners can help you push to the top!

I snapped a final summit pic & headed back to the parking lot.

That's Fairchild, Mummy, Hague's, Rowe, & Dunraven peaks that you see just off my left ear.

It was an awesome, awesome morning. Thanks, everyone, especially Nick, who managed to finish his "Crosier Triple Bagger" not long after I finished my double. I'll definitely make this a springtime tradition, and plan to do the full triple next year.
Here's my run profile for the double:

Pete put together this elevation profile of the triple, re-posted on Nick's blog. Very cool!

See you on the trail!

Pete's Greyrock Six Pack

2011-05-02T20:48:00.007-06:00

My friend Pete is a phenomenal trail runner and ultramarathoner. His many running accomplishments and speedy race times speak for themselves. But to me, what says even more about Pete's passion for the trails is the way he eagerly encourages others (including people like me, who run much, much slower than he does!) to come along and join in the fun. I've learned over the past few months that when Pete invites you to participate in one of his adventures, you need to say YES! or you're bound to miss something special.

So when an e-mail came in from Pete about his planned "Greyrock Six Pack," I knew I wanted to be a part of it. His plan - to get in a lot of miles and elevation gain on a technical trail, as a part of his training for Hardrock - was to summit the Greyrock Trail six times in one day, for a total of around 45 miles. I had some other plans in town on Saturday, but planned to head out early in the morning, to get in one or two loops of the six-pack.

Kristel and I drove up Poudre Canyon in the dark to be on time for the planned 5 a.m. start. In the parking lot, we met up with Pete, Nick, Sam, Bard, Victoria, and Steph. It was cold, dark, and windy, but hey! That's how great adventures tend to begin.

We headed up the trail, doing a mixture of running and scrambling, given all the rocks. Victoria told us about the time when she and her husband timed their hike a bit close and had to come down the trail in the dark, and I was totally amazed. Given all the rocks, I thought it was challenging enough to climb with a headlamp! Before long, Kristel, Victoria and I found ourselves in a meadow where the Greyrock Trail meets up with the Greyrock Meadows Trail. This is where the fun REALLY began.

You get to scramble up between some boulders, which start small and gradually get larger as the trail goes on. And then, you get to shimmy along this boulder, with fantastic views!

Victoria (back) and Kristel (front) taking in the views, the sun still rising.

What we were seeing from our perch.

Once we neared the top, the wind really started to howl. Any time I tried to stand up, I'd feel a gust of wind almost pick me up, and I'm a pretty solid human being! The thought crossed my mind as we climbed: I've gotta hold tight here -- it would be a pretty pathetic distinction to become the "First American Woman Blown Off the Top of Greyrock." Heads down, crawling on all fours, we headed toward the summit.

You can gather from the way Kristel's hair is blown around in our summit photo, just how windy it was!

The views from the top were totally worth it.

I shot a brief video as we headed down, to try to capture the howling wind. Doesn't quite do it justice, but I thought I'd post, all the same:

It had been dark most of the way up, so I took this photo of Greyrock itself on the way back down:

Greyrock. Looks pretty small, and not very high, from this vantage point!

In the end, Kristel and I did only one loop (Victoria headed back up the trail for some more fun!) but even our one loop had the "feel" of a great adventure, given all the wind and vertical ascent. Pete did indeed finish a successful "six-pack": 45.25 miles (15,361 vertical feet) in 13:59:50. Amazing. Can't wait to see what adventure he dreams up next!
Here's the info on our one lap. It was chilly, windy, crazy fun!

See you on the trail!

The Cheyenne Mountain 50k, or How To Finish An Ultra For Which You Are Completely Unprepared

2011-04-24T19:49:00.022-06:00

Those of you who read this blog regularly may have noticed that since HURT, I've posted remarkably little about my own training. That's because... well... I've been doing remarkably little about my own training. So when I heard about the Cheyenne Mountain 50k, I figured signing up for it would be a great way to force myself to get some long miles in. To "prepare" for the race (and that word is in quotes for a reason -- this hardly counts as preparation!) I did a very hilly 20-mile loop with Gus about a week ago. Other than that, the only 20+ mile run I've gotten in since HURT was the 34k I ran on my birthday, at the beginning of March.

But I've got to get myself in gear for the Bighorn Wild & Scenic Trail Run, the 50-miler I'm doing mid-June, and so I thought getting out there for this 50k was a good way to launch a six-week training blitz. As it turned out, I had a lot of fun, and getting through this 50k helped me to feel more motivated about my running. I'm now looking forward to training for Bighorn over the next few weeks in a way that I wasn't before yesterday.

So, I hereby present (instead of a usual "race report") my five-step "Guide To Finishing An Ultra For Which You Are Completely Unprepared." Again -- I don't exactly recommend running an ultra for which you haven't trained, but if you find yourself in the position I was in, these tips could prove useful to you, and help you come out of the race more motivated than you entered it.

1) Choose a scenic course. This is an important one. You may already suffer along the way if you attempt a long race you haven't trained for, but you will truly suffer if your time on the trail is not enhanced by any scenic distractions. The Cheyenne Mountain course was beautiful, with good mountain views, and except for some flat "high prairie"-ish sections, fairly forested too. Along the trail, especially on the second loop when runners were more spread out, I saw a lot of deer. The off-and-on snowfall added to the beauty of the course as well.

2) Do not go out too fast. Perhaps the most important thing to keep in mind is to "run your own race" and not go out too fast. Many runners will pass you, especially in the first 7 or 8 miles. Do not try to keep up with them! They are going faster than you because:
a) They actually trained for this race and are capable of sustaining the pace they're running; or
b) They are ultra-newbies who don't know how to pace themselves, and will soon crash and burn.
But you did not train for this, and you are not here to crash and burn! You're here to log some miles in a beautiful place. Keep telling yourself that, relax, and enjoy the trail. If you really feel the need to sprint, you can do that in the last three miles.

3) Eat and drink enough. You will need to stay fueled to cover the distance, and since you haven't been training much, your body will not be as accustomed to eating on the run. Your body may rebel at some point and force you off the trail to (ahem) lose a pound or two. But fear not! Continue to take in calories and you will be ok. This means you need to eat your usual trail fare (for me, GU and almond-butter saltine sandwiches) but in addition, if a race volunteer offers you a PBJ, take it. If two race volunteers each offer you PBJs, take two. You need the calories to keep moving forward. And that's all this "race" is about: continuously moving forward and logging miles on the trail.

4) Enjoy the camaraderie of other runners. On a course like this one, with a couple of "lollipop" sections, you will see other runners on the trail as your paths cross. Cheer them on! It will help them, and make you feel good too. It's also ideal if someone you know decides to run the 25k while you run the 50k, and you can share some conversation over a few miles. Lucky for me, this happened around mile 10 when runner / rafter / skier / snowshoer / biker / all-around awesome multisport guy David Delagarza came up behind me on the trail and we shared some miles. Conversation passes the time, and it's an awesome way to catch up with a friend you haven't seen in a while, too. Thanks, Dave!

5) Thank the race volunteers. Smile at them. Be polite. They're volunteering their time hauling water bottles and making hundreds of PBJs so that you can be out on the trail - how awesome is that?! It will make you feel good, too. One volunteer said I was the happiest runner he'd seen on the course all day. Another volunteer said it made her day when I thanked her & her fellow volunteers for coming out to help with the race. So be nice. It will make you feel good, too.

So there you go - a few tips, take 'em or leave 'em. Again, I don't actually recommend this approach, but I am so happy I went ahead & ran the 50k even though I hadn't prepared for it. The trails were pretty, I got in a long training run, and the camaraderie of all the other runners has made me more motivated to get "back on the horse" and ramp up my training for Bighorn.

See you on the trail!

Forget the Treadmill. Get a Dog.

2011-03-14T19:00:00.018-06:00

I love dogs. I love to run. And more than almost anything, I love to run with dogs.

So I'm probably more than a little biased as I read this article, but I thought I'd share it anyway. If you're trying to motivate yourself to exercise more, and you have the time and energy to devote to a furry companion, please consider adopting a dog. Our four dogs are such a blessing in our lives, and our two running dogs, Gus and Jasper, definitely help me get out the door and onto the trail even on days when I'd rather sleep in.

If you're in Fort Collins, adopt from Animal House, where we adopted Gus and Jasper. Elsewhere, check out Petfinder to find adoptable dogs in your area.

See you on the trail!

The New York Times
Forget the Treadmill. Get a Dog.
By TARA PARKER-POPE
Published: March 14, 2011
Photograph by Kevin Moloney for The New York Times.

If you’re looking for the latest in home exercise equipment, you may want to consider something with four legs and a wagging tail.

Several studies now show that dogs can be powerful motivators to get people moving. Not only are dog owners more likely to take regular walks, but new research shows that dog walkers are more active over all than people who don’t have dogs.

One study even found that older people are more likely to take regular walks if the walking companion is canine rather than human.

“You need to walk, and so does your dog,” said Rebecca A. Johnson, director of the human-animal interaction research center at the University of Missouri College of Veterinary Medicine. “It’s good for both ends of the leash.”

Just last week, researchers from Michigan State University reported that among dog owners who took their pets for regular walks, 60 percent met federal criteria for regular moderate or vigorous exercise. Nearly half of dog walkers exercised an average of 30 minutes a day at least five days a week. By comparison, only about a third of those without dogs got that much regular exercise.

The researchers tracked the exercise habits of 5,900 people in Michigan, including 2,170 who owned dogs. They found that about two-thirds of dog owners took their pets for regular walks, defined as lasting at least 10 minutes.

Unlike other studies of dog ownership and walking, this one also tracked other forms of exercise, seeking to answer what the lead author, Mathew Reeves, called an obvious question: whether dog walking “adds significantly to the amount of exercise you do, or is it simply that it replaces exercise you would have done otherwise?”

The answers were encouraging, said Dr. Reeves, an associate professor of epidemiology at Michigan State. The dog walkers had higher overall levels of both moderate and vigorous physical activity than the other subjects, and they were more likely to take part in other leisure-time physical activities like sports and gardening. On average, they exercised about 30 minutes a week more than people who didn’t have dogs.

Dr. Reeves, who owns two Labrador mixes named Cadbury and Bella, said he was not surprised.

“There is exercise that gets done in this household that wouldn’t get done otherwise,” he said. “Our dogs demand that you take them out at 10 o’clock at night, when it’s the last thing you feel like doing. They’re not going to leave you alone until they get their walk in.”

But owning a dog didn’t guarantee physical activity. Some owners in the study did not walk their dogs, and they posted far less overall exercise than dog walkers or people who didn’t have a dog.

Dog walking was highest among the young and educated, with 18-to-24-year-old owners twice as likely to walk the dog as those over 65, and college graduates more than twice as likely as those with less education. Younger dogs were more likely to be walked than older dogs; and larger dogs (45 pounds or more) were taken for longer walks than smaller dogs.

The researchers asked owners who didn’t walk their pets to explain why. About 40 percent said their dogs ran free in a yard, so they didn’t need walks; 11 percent hired dog walkers.

Nine percent said they didn’t have time to walk their dogs, while another 9 percent said their dogs were too ill behaved to take on a walk. Age of the dog or dog owner also had an effect: 9 percent said the dog was too old to go for walks, while 8 percent said the owner was too old.

“There is still a lot more dog walking that could be done among dog owners,” Dr. Reeves said.

And the question remains whether owning a dog encourages regular activity or whether active, healthy people are simply more likely to acquire dogs as walking companions.

A 2008 study in Western Australia addressed the question when it followed 773 adults who didn’t have dogs. After a year, 92 people, or 12 percent of the group, had acquired a dog. Getting a dog increased average walking by about 30 minutes a week, compared with those who didn’t own dogs.

But on closer analysis, the new dog owners had been laggards before getting a dog, walking about 24 percent less than other people without dogs.

The researchers found that one of the motivations for getting a dog was a desire to get more exercise. Before getting a dog, the new dog owners had clocked about 89 minutes of weekly walking, but dog ownership boosted that number to 130 minutes a week.

A study of 41,500 California residents also looked at walking among dog and cat owners as well as those who didn’t have pets. Dog owners were about 60 percent more likely to walk for leisure than people who owned a cat or no pet at all. That translated to an extra 19 minutes a week of walking compared with people without dogs.

A study last year from the University of Missouri showed that for getting exercise, dogs are better walking companions than humans. In a 12-week study of 54 older adults at an assisted-living home, some people selected a friend or spouse as a walking companion, while others took a bus daily to a local animal shelter, where they were assigned a dog to walk.

To the surprise of the researchers, the dog walkers showed a much greater improvement in fitness. Walking speed among the dog walkers increased by 28 percent, compared with just 4 percent among the human walkers.

Dr. Johnson, the study’s lead author, said that human walkers often complained about the heat and talked each other out of exercise, but that people who were paired with dogs didn’t make those excuses.

“They help themselves by helping the dog,” said Dr. Johnson, co-author of the new book “Walk a Hound, Lose a Pound,” to be published in May by Purdue University Press. “If we’re committed to a dog, it enables us to commit to physical activity ourselves.”

Another Birthday? No Problem!

2011-03-05T08:34:00.024-07:00

Yesterday was my birthday. I'm not someone who frets much about growing older, but like anyone obsessed with long-distance running, I do worry from time to time that a day may come when I won't be able to run ultramarathons anymore.

Here's an antidote to that kind of thinking. Yesterday on my birthday run, my friend Cat mentioned this video to me. It features Barb Macklow, age 76, and Vicki Griffiths, age 67, talking about their experiences running 100-mile endurance races in their 60s and 70s. I totally want to be running 100s when I'm their ages. My favorite line? "At seventy-six, I am starting to feel my age a little bit sometimes."

Fantastic.

So here's a toast to Cat, Sarah, Kristel, Marian, Cheryl, Heather, Andrea, Ali, and everyone else I love to run with: Long may we run, in good health, together!

Enjoy, and see you on the trail.

Happy Sunday Morning, Everyone!

2011-02-20T12:35:00.011-07:00

From a perch high above their hometown, Jasper and Gus wish the good citizens of Fort Collins, Colorado a very happy Sunday. Cheers! And see you on the trail.

Love Me Some of Those Endocannabinoids!

2011-02-16T19:23:00.003-07:00

For many years, scientists have wondered what causes that heavenly phenomenon known as the "runner's high." Initially, many speculated that endorphins were responsible for that feeling of euphoria that comes over me as I finish a long run.

New research points to a different factor: the "endocannabinoid system." I don't know exactly what they are, but I think I'm addicted, big-time.

Read on to learn more - and see you on the trail!

The New York Times
What Really Causes Runner's High?
By GRETCHEN REYNOLDS
Published: February 26, 2011
Photograph by Jordan Siemens, Getty Images.
For decades, endorphins have hogged the credit for producing “runner’s high,” that fleeting sense of euphoria and calm that many people report experiencing after prolonged exercise. Who among us, after an especially satisfying workout, hasn’t thought, “ah, my endorphins are kicking in.” Endorphins are the world’s sole celebrity peptide.

Endorphins first gained notoriety in exercise back in the 1980s when researchers discovered increased blood levels of the substance after prolonged workouts. (Endorphins, for those who know the word but not the molecules’ actual function, are the body’s home-brewed opiates, with receptors and actions much like those of pain-relieving morphine.) Endorphins, however, are composed of relatively large molecules, “which are unable to pass the blood-brain barrier,” said Matthew Hill, a postdoctoral fellow at Rockefeller University in New York. Finding endorphins in the bloodstream after exercise could not, in other words, constitute proof that the substance was having an effect on the mind. So researchers started to look for other candidates to help explain runner’s high. Now an emerging field of neuroscience indicates that an altogether-different neurochemical system within the body and brain, the endocannabinoid system, may be more responsible for that feeling.

In a groundbreaking 2003 experiment, scientists at the Georgia Institute of Technology found that 50 minutes of hard running on a treadmill or riding a stationary bicycle significantly increased blood levels of endocannabinoid molecules in a group of college students. The endocannabinoid system was first mapped some years before that, when scientists set out to determine just how cannabis, a k a marijuana, acts upon the body. They found that a widespread group of receptors, clustered in the brain but also found elsewhere in the body, allow the active ingredient in marijuana to bind to the nervous system and set off reactions that reduce pain and anxiety and produce a floaty, free-form sense of well-being. Even more intriguing, the researchers found that with the right stimuli, the body creates its own cannabinoids (the endocannabinoids). These cannabinoids are composed of molecules known as lipids, which are small enough to cross the blood-brain barrier, so cannabinoids found in the blood after exercise could be affecting the brain.

Since that 2003 study, a flurry of research has been teasing out the role that endocannabinoids play in the body’s reaction to exercise. In some of Dr. Hill’s work, for instance, rats treated with a drug that blocked their endocannabinoid receptors did not experience the increase in new brain cells that usually accompanies running, suggesting that a well-functioning endocannabinoid system may be required for cognitive improvements from exercise. Other researchers have found that endocannabinoids may be what nudge us to tolerate or enjoy exercise in the first place. In an experiment published last year, groups of mice were assigned either to run on wheels or sip a sweetened drink. Running and slurping sugar previously were identified as pleasurable behaviors in animals. Now the researchers saw that both activities lit up and sensitized portions of the animals’ endocannabinoid systems, intimating that the endocannabinoid connection may lend both exercise and dessert their appeal.

But perhaps the most telling experiment was published last year by researchers in France who had bred mice with no functioning endocannabinoid receptors. Mice usually love to run, but the genetically modified animals, given free access to running wheels, ran about half as much as usual. Although the full intricacies of the endocannabinoid system’s role in motivating and rewarding exercise is not yet understood, it seems obvious, the researchers say, that the cannabinoid-deprived mice were not getting some necessary internal message. Typically, the endocannabinoid system “is well known to impact onto central reward networks,” the authors write. Without it, exercise seemed to provide less buzz, and the animals didn’t indulge as much.

Whether this accumulating new science establishes, or ever can establish, definitively, that endocannabinoids are behind runner’s high, is uncertain. As Francis Chaouloff, a researcher at the University of Bordeaux in France and lead author of the genetically modified mouse study, pointed out in an e-mail, rodents, although fine models for studying endocannabinoid action, “do not fill questionnaires to express their feelings related to running,” and runners’ high is a subjective human experience. Still, endocannabinoids are a more persuasive candidate, especially given the overlap between the high associated with marijuana use and descriptions of the euphoria associated with strenuous exercise. One recent review article described them: “pure happiness, elation, a feeling of unity with one’s self and/or nature, endless peacefulness,” and “inner harmony.” Ahhhh.

Spreading The Joy of Running

2011-02-06T09:45:00.094-07:00

I know, I know. We runners can get a little serious about our running from time to time, whether it's wanting to qualify for Boston or Western States, or getting enough vertical feet into our long workouts. Fortunately, most runners - at least most of the runners I know, are also good at poking fun at themselves, and are adept at relaxing and have a good time.

Yesterday was the Fourth Annual Human-Powered Brewery Tour, and it was a great opportunity to share the joy of running with others while wearing silly costumes, raise money for a good cause, AND enjoy some fantastic locally-brewed beer!)

This was my first HPBT, but my friends Scott and Celeste have produced this event for four years now, to raise money for ALS and remember Annie O'Donoghue. Each year the event has grown, and this year saw still greater participation, despite some questionable weather that looked at any moment as though it might snow. Since my dad also enjoys beer (and doesn't mind doing so in silly costumes, attested to by his multiple appearances at New Belgium's Tour de Fat) I thought I'd invite him to join me as well.

We met at New Belgium Brewing, then made our way (by any human-powered means: mainly running or biking) to the Fort Collins Brewery, followed by Funkwerks, and Odell Brewing Company. At that point, Dad and I stepped off the "tour bus," but the hardy HPBT participants then made their way to Equinox Brewing and Coopersmith's Pub and Brewing. It was such a fun event, and I hope that at least a few of the non-runners we met at these breweries were able to see how much fun running (and runners!) can be. Maybe next year, on the Saturday before the Super Bowl, they'll be joining us.

The group starts at New Belgium.

Celeste and Cat (veteran HPBT-ers) demonstrate how it's done.

Scott officially launches the tour.

Ready to run to the Fort Collins Brewery.

On the run between Fort Collins Brewery and Funkwerks.

No, those are not actually my real teeth.

We totally took over Funkwerks.

Happy runners in front of Odells.

See you on the trail!

A Warm Welcome Home

2011-01-20T20:10:00.051-07:00

Coming home from Hawaii after finishing the HURT 100 has been a little surreal. I thought about so many family, friends and colleagues while I was out on the trail that it's been hard to convey to everyone just how much their support during my training and throughout the race has meant to me. I can never thank enough all the friends who ran with me and Sarah while we were training for HURT, or sent along words of wisdom from their hard-earned experiences. My colleagues have been so kind about asking how my running is going, and supported me when I wanted to take a vacation day to get a long run in. Friends and family told me before leaving for Hawaii that they'd be checking the live race site to check in on me while the race was happening, even if they couldn't be there in person. That meant so much!

I have already been the recipient of so much kindness and support that I was completely overwhelmed to return to work this morning and find my desk decorated, and a banner hanging above my computer:My colleagues had all signed it. I couldn't believe it - what an amazing gesture of support. I am so lucky.

Then, as if that weren't already more than I could ever ask for, I came home to a long mailing tube on our doorstep. What was inside? This awesome banner from my cousins (Christi and I had to cut it in half to hang it on the wall since our house is little):Is that amazing or what?! I am so lucky.

Thank you, everyone, for your support, and see you on the trail!

The H.U.R.T. 100-Mile Endurance Run

2011-01-17T14:36:00.608-07:00

It's hard to even begin to write this post, my "race report" for HURT, because for me, the HURT 100 experience isn't just a race that took up the past couple of days; it's an adventure that started back in August and has only just begun to sink in. At the same time, though, I do want to try to capture something of what it's like to run this race, because it's a truly phenomenal event. So I start this post, knowing in advance that nothing I write can do justice to the experience -- but here goes, for what it's worth...

Near the start line with Sarah, Marian and Cheryl. Photo by Andrea Stout.

The morning of the race, I just wanted to run. After all our training, tapering, packing drop bags, arriving at the start line... Enough with the preparation already, let's get this race underway!

Sarah and Andrea at the start. Everyone is excited, but also more than a little nervous!

Just before the starting-line conch shell is blown. Ready to run! Photo by Andrea Stout.

It was a wonderful feeling - a feeling of relief - when at last the conch shell was blown and we were all able to get moving. I didn't know if I'd finish or not, but I was so ready to run, and very curious to see the trail I'd heard so much about from Sarah and Marian. The climb was steep but in the darkness I didn't notice it much - I was just excited to be moving.

Amazing views of Honolulu after cresting the first big climb. Photo by Robert P. Smith.

Before long, we reached the top of our first big climb, and the view was fantastic. Time to descend into Paradise Park! It was still fairly cool at this point, but a lot more humid than I was used to. I was impressed by how technical the trail was, though - every bit as rooty as advertised! Following Sarah and Marian down the trail, I kept chuckling under my breath, hardly believing these were the trails we'd be doing FIVE times in a ROW! This was definitely going to be a challenge. I must not have been laughing quietly enough, though, since very time I shook my head and giggled, thinking to myself "you must be kidding! This is the trail?!" I could hear Sarah, ahead of me on the trail, laugh too.

The trees along the entire course were phenomenal - certainly very different from what we experience in Colorado! Photo by Robert P. Smith.

The scenery at HURT can't be beat. The trees in particular fascinated me, and were a great distraction from thinking about all the miles I'd be running. Before I knew it, we'd made it to Paradise Park.

The McIntosh-Yasuda Running Team on the first loop, as we headed back up the trail after visiting the Paradise Park Aid Station. A little paranoid about trying to keep moving the whole time, this was the only photo I took during the whole race.

Fish has the best smile. The encouragement of other runners was a very important motivator for me during the race. Photo by Andrea Stout.

The climb out of Paradise Park on the first loop was not bad at all. We passed the time by chatting and greeting other runners, who were also looking and feeling strong and fresh.

Volunteers rock! These ladies made sure we were in and out of Nu'uanu in no time flat. Photo by Andrea Stout.

Before we knew it, we were in and out of Nu'uanu, and headed back to Nature Center. I couldn't believe the first loop had gone by so quickly.

Sarah and Marian, running strong into Nature Center at the end of Loop 1. Photo by Andrea Stout.

Totally manic, coming into Nature Center at the end of Loop 1. Photo by Andrea Stout.

The photo above makes me laugh out loud, because it says everything about what it felt like to finish that first loop. I came into Nature Center humbled by the difficult trail: the steep climbs, the rooty technical nature of the trail, the heat and humidity. But at the same time, at that point I'd seen the entire 20-mile loop, and survived it, and had "only" 80 more miles to go, and that excited me. I replenished my stash of GU and almond-butter sandwiches at Nature Center and headed back onto the trail for Loop 2.

Loop 2, descending toward the Paradise Park aid station. Photo by Andrea Stout.

Loop 2, Sarah checks out the offerings at Paradise Park. Photo by Andrea Stout.

My muddy feet & legs at Paradise Park, loop 2. I'd get a lot muddier by the time I finished! Photo by Andrea Stout.

My head isn't that pointy, honest! I kept a bag of ice under my hat during daylight hours to stay cool. Photo by Andrea Stout.

Replenished & cooled off, we leave Paradise Park and head toward Nu'uanu on loop 2. Photo by Andrea Stout.

On the climb out of Paradise Park on the second loop, I once again became aware of what a challenge this race would be. Sarah and Marian were powering up the hill with (seeming) ease, and I began to fall behind. It hadn't felt like much of a climb on the first loop, but now I was aware that this was one big hill!

Sarah leads us through a very rooty part of the trail. Photo by Akabill Ultrarunner.

The river crossing as we head toward Nu'uanu. Photo by Andrea Stout.

The breeze along the ridge cooled my skin a bit, and descending the shady switchbacks into Nu'uanu revived me, so that by the time we reached the aid station I was feeling strong again. Could it be that we were already more than halfway through a second loop at HURT?!

At Nu'uanu. Can you tell we were having SO much FUN?! Photo by Andrea Stout.

At Nu'uanu, high on running. Photo by Andrea Stout.

Andrea snaps one more photo of us before the McIntosh/Waddell/Yasuda Running Team leaves Nu'uanu for Nature Center. (That's a really, really big bag of ice under my hat!) Photo by Andrea Stout.

Nature Center or bust! Photo by Andrea Stout.

The climb out of Nu'uanu, back to Nature Center, was steep but I still felt okay. Sarah and Marian - strong climbers both - moved ahead on the uphills, but I'd catch up on the flatter parts and the downhills. I came into Nature Center eager to meet up with my pacer, Sue Lohr, and move into the nighttime part of the run. The heat left me feeling a little wilted, even with ice under my hat, and I hoped to feel good during the night.

It was great to see Sue, and after a quick trip to my Nature Center drop bag to replenish my supplies of GU, sandwiches and S-Caps, we were on our way! It helped that Sue and I didn't know much about each other, because learning about her background, her husband, her twins, and her favorite things to do (including her running - turns out, Sue is a speedy marathoner!) helped distract me from the fatigue that threatened to settle in as the sun went down. We were pretty focused on our conversation when we caught up to Marian and Sarah, making the first big climb of Loop 3, up from Nature Center. Sarah was not feeling well; as soon as she put her headlamp on, she'd started to feel motion sick. She took some ginger and soldiered on, climbing strongly despite feeling awful.

The four of us ran together for a while, to the top of the hill. On the descent into Paradise Park, it was clear that Sarah was still struggling, feeling more and more ill. As the night grew darker and there was less ambient light, it was easy to get nauseated, surrounded as we were by the bouncing light beams of our headlamps. In the weeks and months leading up to the race, we had promised one another that we were all there to run our own races, but it was still heartbreaking to think that the three of us might not be able to run all 100 miles together.

Marian was looking and feeling strong, so she took the lead and moved ahead on the descent into Paradise Park. I wasn't feeling sick or nauseated, but I was tired, and I wasn't all that convinced that I'd be able to finish 100 miles. Sue, Sarah and I ran together for a while, but gradually on the descent Sue and I started to move ahead. We listened for Sarah's footsteps and knew she wasn't far behind us when we met up with Marian on our way into Paradise Park as she was heading back up the hill.

I was starting to feel pretty tired, and it seemed to me I was running far behind the pace I'd planned in order to make the Loop 5 time cutoffs, so I told Marian I was going to rest a bit at Paradise Park and then try to pull off a 100k finish. "I'm slowing down, and I don't think I'm going to make the cutoffs," I told her.
"Well, you look great, and you've got plenty of time," she told me, "all you need to do is keep moving, keep eating and drinking, and you're going to finish this. Just keep moving forward until you cross the finish line, or until someone forces you to stop."

So we did. With Sue's help, I kept moving forward. We met up with Sarah again on our way out of Paradise Park, and while she looked pale, she was moving forward strongly. We made the tough climb up the hill in the dark, talking all the way, trying to just keep moving forward.

Is this me and Sue? Is it some other runner and his or her pacer? It doesn't really matter -- this is what we all looked like on loop 3, negotiating the rooty trails in the dark. Photo by Robert P. Smith.

On the descent into Nu'uanu, I slipped a few times in the dark. It's treacherous going in good conditions; in the dark and in the mud it was an even tougher trail to negotiate. We could hear the music and the laughter of the volunteers at Nu'uanu long before we arrived, and the aid station was an island of light, noise and activity in what seemed like a vast dark jungle. We met up with Marian again on our way into Nu'uanu as she was making her way back up the hill, and she looked amazingly strong after 50+ miles.

On the way back up the hill from Nu'uanu, at every switchback we expected to see Sarah making her way down. With each headlamp in the distance, our hopes would rise, only to realize when the runner was right in front of us that it was someone else. It wasn't until we climbed up to the rooty maze of Center Trail and turned toward Nature Center that we began to worry that Sarah might be seriously ill. And Sarah wasn't the only one; on Loop 3 the ranks started to feel very thin, and the cheery greetings from other runners became less and less frequent as more runners dropped.

At Nature Center, Sue helped me replenish my GU and sandwich supply from my drop bag while I met up with Justin Lottig, my Loop 4 pacer. He'd been following the race online from his house, which was not far from the start/finish site at Nature Center. "Runners are dropping like flies," he said, "Something happened to Tracy Garneau, so she dropped, and so have a lot of the other front-runners." His account corresponded to what Sue and I had noticed: there were a lot fewer runners on the trail than there had been earlier in the day.

The time passed quickly as Justin and I talked. I kept thanking him for coming out to run with me at 2 a.m., and he told me about his twins, just a few months old. "I don't get much sleep anyway," he said, "so I might as well be out running with you!" Talking about work, and family, and running, we got to know each other a bit, and the hours passed quickly. Before I knew it the sun had come up again.

Loop 4, Neal and Marian running strong through the roots. Photo by Robert P. Smith.

Loop 4, Justin and I making our way through the roots. Photo by Robert P. Smith.

Loop 4, running with Justin. Photo by Andrea Stout.

All night long, I couldn't help but wonder how Sarah was doing. I hadn't seen her at all during Loop 4, and Andrea had gone back to Marian and Neal's house to sleep a bit, so I hadn't gotten any updates at aid stations during the night. It was bad enough that Sarah likely had had to drop from the race, but in the middle of the night, deprived of sleep, my mind churned with worry as I hoped my friend was ok.

Justin and I came running into Nature Center at the end of Loop 4 with a strategy of exactly what we'd do to get me in, restocked, and back on the trail as quickly as possible. It looked as though I was going to make all the Loop 5 time cutoffs, but every moment counts in a race like this, so while I had my pack refilled with water, Justin grabbed my baggie of Loop 5 sandwiches, GU and electrolytes from my drop bag, and I prepared to head out for Loop 5.

Then, I had two awesome surprises:
The first happened suddenly, as I was turning to head out on Loop 5, when who should I see but Sue! "Great to see you!" I said, a little confused about why she was there. Was she volunteering at the Nature Center aid station? Or maybe just watching the frontrunners finish?
"Let's go! We've got one more loop to do," she said. "C'm'on!" Sue, bless her, had gone home, showered, slept a bit, and was back to help me finish the final loop. She'd only "signed on" for Loop 3, but here she was, ready to go out for another muddy, rooty, steep 20 miles.
The second surprise happened as we were leaving Nature Center. At the end of the bridge, who should I see but Sarah! It was wonderful to see her, and she looked good. Like Sue, she'd gone home at some point in the night and had showered and changed, but I couldn't help but give her a big hug - sweaty, stinky and muddy though I was - because I was so relieved she was ok. Sue urged me on. "We've got a race to finish! Let's go!"

Starting Loop 5, so happy to see that Sarah was ok. Poor Sarah - I cannot even imagine how totally stinky I was at that point! Photo by Andrea Stout.

Loop 5 was a funny amalgam: optimism and excitement coupled with big-time fatigue. Sue did a great job keeping me moving. She'd say, "Keep your arm swing going!" or after we'd walked for a bit, "Let's try to run some more." I was really, really happy to be so close to finishing, but at the same time I knew I couldn't take anything for granted. Anything can happen in 20 miles!

Loop 5, Marian running into Paradise Park. Photo by Andrea Stout.

After the sun came up again, contact with other runners was one thing that kept me going. There were fewer of us out there, but the runners and pacers formed a strong community on the trail, and even though almost everybody looked tired (you can see from this photo of Marian that she looked awesome the whole time!), whenever our paths crossed, runners made an effort to smile and wave and murmur a few words of encouragement to each other. It was so helpful.

Loop 5, coming into Paradise Park. Photo by Andrea Stout.

Andrea and Sarah met us at Paradise Park, and Sarah ran with us to see how I was doing, reminding me to keep eating and drinking (and having fun!) even though I was tired. She also said she was going to call Christi to let her know I was still going strong. At this point it was starting to occur to me that I might actually finish.

Loop 5, coming into Nu'uanu, Marian still looks SO strong! Photo by Andrea Stout.

Loop 5, returning from Nu'uanu. I was tired but really hopeful at this stage. Photo by Robert P. Smith.

Sue really helped me keep moving forward, especially on Loop 5 when I was feeling tired. Look at that encouraging smile! Photo by Robert P. Smith.

I can't thank Sue enough for all her encouragement on that last loop. I was pretty sore, and talking with her kept my mind off of whatever was hurting at the moment. She also kept me running. Well, maybe "running" isn't the best description of it - I was moving pretty slowly - but when I'd start to walk she'd say, "Ok, let's walk 20 paces, and then run again. You can do it!" Descending to the finish, the trail seemed so much longer than it had the four previous times I'd run down it. Sue kept telling me we were almost there, almost there...
...and then, amazingly, we were!

Marian at the finish line, with Neal, Sarah and Andrea.

Marian looked strong the whole time and finished in 35:05 as 4th female, 22nd overall, and - at age 50 - she cruised past plenty of runners half her age. What an inspiration!

An amazing 100-mile journey ends with a kiss. We wouldn't want it to be easy! Photo by Sarah McIntosh.

I finished in 35:18 as 6th female, 25th overall. 32 of us finished out of 111 who toed the start line.

What an amazing feeling. Photo by Andrea Stout.

At the finish with pacers Justin Lottig and Sue Lohr. I couldn't have done it without their help! Photo by Andrea Stout.

Sharing a moment at the finish. Photo by Andrea Stout.

Adventures like these are truly a team effort and I am lucky to be a part of the best team anywhere.

I could not have even begun to train for - let alone finish - a race like this one without an awesome training partner like Sarah. She encouraged me to sign up for this crazy adventure of a race, trained with me for several months, and offered her support and encouragement all the way to the finish, even though we didn't get to cross the finish line together.

Andrea crewed us through numerous training runs and the race itself, and took most of the photos here that do so much to capture the HURT experience.

Marian shared her hard-won trail wisdom throughout our training, recruited Sue and Justin to pace me, and she & Neal welcomed me very generously into their home the week of the race.

Sue and Justin volunteered to run with a total stranger through the night to help me achieve a personal goal. They kept me going when I was really, really tired and this would not have been nearly as much fun without them.

Fellow runners like Ali, Andrea, Cat, Heather, Kristel, Pete, Victoria, and Bob helped us train, and shared their ultra-running strategies.

The hard work of all the aid-station captains and race volunteers of the HURT 100 -- the HURT ohana -- gives HURT a soul that is uniquely its own, and an atmosphere where everyone is treated like family.

But more than anyone, I owe the biggest thank-you to my partner, Christi, whose loving support made this and so many of my other running adventures possible. Thanks, baby - I owe you big-time for this one!

Thank you, everyone, and see you on the trail!

Sweat it Out!

2011-01-06T20:31:00.043-07:00

I just finished my seventh heat training session, and at last, it is starting to feel a little easier. Following the careful prescription of Marian, Sarah's ultra-running sister in Hawaii and a member of the HURT, I've been going to the gym bundled in layers and cranking out an hour or so on the treadmill while forcing down as much water as possible (ideally 2 liters or so). Our bodies use less water when it's cold outside since we don't have to sweat much to stay cool, and so at the moment my body is pretty un-adapted to the heat. The point of heat training is to change that, and force my body to use more water.

The first day was not pretty. On my first heat-training day, little over a week ago, I could feel the water sloshing around in my stomach, and while I felt hot from the outset, it seemed to take forever for my body to actually break a sweat and start cooling down. I didn't do much running that first day; I mostly power-walked with the treadmill set at its steepest incline. Today went a lot better; I think the heat training is working.

I had a funny experience at the gym, though.

I was about 30 minutes into my workout (and dripping with sweat) when an older gentleman came in. We exchanged waves, and he went about his workout. I could tell, though, as I watched him in the mirror, that he kept looking back at me. I figured he wondered what I was doing, since I was quite a sight to see, dressed fully in sweats with a layer or two visibly poking out underneath.

He approached, and said, "Miss, you don't need to be losing any weight. What you're doing isn't very wise." He figured I was using the old weight-loss trick employed by wrestlers and boxers trying to "make weight," sweating it out in heavy clothes.

I laughed and thanked him for his concern, but told him that what I was actually doing was probably even more unwise than he could've imagined! He could not believe anyone in her right mind would want to run 100 miles, but he wished me luck and we both finished our workouts.

See you on the trail!

Photo: National Anthropological Archives, Smithsonian Institution

Ready or Not, Time to Taper!

2010-12-23T19:05:00.029-07:00

Today was the last long run before HURT. It feels a little odd to even write that right now, because I'm not sure if I'm truly ready for this challenge or not. But hey: ready or not, our big mileage is in, and now it's time to heat train and taper.

We'd planned to go 50+ miles today, as a final loooong run, but that didn't end up happening. Sarah and I headed out for a first loop at 6 am, and then Kristel (yes the same awesome runner who took 3rd place in her first 100-mile race) would join us for three hours starting at 9:30, and then Sarah and I would head out again on our own to get in more miles, and more vertical feet.

It didn't end up happening that way. We did have a lot of fun...

...and then my hip flexor really started to bother me. Coming down from Arthur's Rock it felt like some kind of tender sinew was being grated away by the sharp bone underneath. Is that what was happening? I don't know; I am not a medical professional. But that's definitely what it felt like. So we cut the run short, after about 6 hours on the trail. I came home and iced my hip for a while, and tried not to worry about it.

I'm still trying not to worry about it. I'm giving it a few days' rest, and will then start heat training at the gym. I'm confident in all the training we've done, and I am sure all our climbing is going to help us face the challenge of the HURT trails. But will it be enough? Only time will tell. Ready or not, it's time to taper.

See you on the trail!

"You Are Truly Insane."

2010-12-15T15:00:00.016-07:00

My colleagues have been amazingly supportive throughout my training for HURT. It turns out that they've also been listening very carefully to everything I've told them about the race, as this little video one of them put together for me demonstrates:

Amazing, no? The amount of elevation gain is even accurate. And how does everyone know what I eat the night before a big run, down to the "several slices of garlic bread"?

Too funny. "You are truly insane" has never been delivered with such affection.

See you on the trail.

It Takes a Team

2010-12-04T09:15:00.168-07:00

HURT is drawing nearer, and our long runs are growing, both in mileage and in elevation gain. Since Grandma's passing last week, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about life, and running, and the outdoors, and friendships and family. Training for HURT has been challenging in ways that training for other races hasn't been, both physically and personally. I've realized that the tougher the challenge, the more important it becomes to assemble a team, since going it alone can only sustain you for so long.

Yesterday's run is the perfect example of this. We were not sure exactly how long we'd try to run, but Sarah and I knew we wanted to go farther than 50 miles, which is the longest I've ever run before. So over the past few days, we made an extra-special effort to recruit some compatriots to keep us company on what was sure to be a challenging day, and amazingly, we had some takers!

In addition to owning her own business and having a family, our friend Cat is that unique type of runner who has finished both the Leadville Trail 100 and the Boston Marathon. She's awesome. We do question her sanity, though, because she agreed to meet us for a 4:00 am start for yesterday's run. Is that friendship or what?! I guess it's either friendship or insanity -- or more probably, both.

Given the early-morning start, I did as much as I could the night before to prepare, so that I could wake up and move straight out the door. But when I grabbed my hydration pack as I heard Cat's car pull up in front of Andrea & Sarah's house, it was unexpectedly soaking wet. A puddle had spread across Andrea & Sarah's countertop. I had a leak. Sarah and I frantically - and quietly, as it was 4 am and we didn't want to awaken Andrea - squeezed the hydration reservoir, seeking out the mystery leak. Had I simply not closed the top tightly, or was there truly a hole? There was truly a hole. Quickly, Sarah grabbed the hydration reservoir from Andrea's pack, we filled it with water and stuck it into my pack, and we were off and running.

I'm accustomed to predawn runs, but 4 am seemed a lot earlier (and darker!) than 5 am, and I was still a little tense about the last-minute switch we'd had to make with my hydration pack. But soon enough, in the company of good friends, we were just another few runners heading off down the trail at a relaxed pace. It could've been a Saturday afternoon.

Quick, spot the runners! That's Roo (the reflective stripe in the bottom left), Sarah (left headlamp) and Cat (the only face you can see!)

This was so much fun.

So, we're cruising down a peaceful valley, not far from where Spring Creek and Wathen trails cross. It's maybe 5:30 in the morning, and still dark. We've been going about 90 minutes, and are moving at a relaxed pace, alternating between conversation and easy silence. Then suddenly, out of the dark, a flash. Then another flash. And a third. What the...? We all jump in surprise. I'm sure I squealed like a little girl. As I return into my body following the shock of the flashing lights, I realize what surprised us: a wildlife photo trap. SUCH a surprise. Whew!

The sun came up and we could not have asked for a more beautiful day.

Sarah, tackling Arthur's Rock Trail for the second time of the day.

Cat, climbing up the Arthur's Rock Trail on our second loop.

Part of what made running with Cat so much fun was that she knew everyone on the trail. A group of retired people out for a hike? Clients. Some college-age kids taking their dogs out for a walk? Staff at her gym. Another couple, also out with a dog? Parents with kids who were Cat's daughter's classmates. I'm telling you: she knew everyone on that trail yesterday, and as we passed and they cheered for Cat, it boosted all our spirits.

Did I mention it was a gorgeous day? This is December 3. Amazing!

Eventually Cat had to leave us, and we went back to Andrea & Sarah's to refill our packs. After 40-some miles, Andrea and our friend Heather came out with us for the final 10-15 miles, which we'd decided to run on some of the flatter trails at Horsetooth and Lory (East Valley Trail, West Valley Trail, Shoreline). I hadn't seen Heather in a while, so it was great to catch up on things, and since she was running on fresh legs while Sarah and I had gone almost 50, something about her energy gave us all a boost. Andrea also brought along Lola, one of Andrea & Sarah's pups.

After a couple miles, Andrea headed back to the house (Lola's back limits her running long distances) and not long after, I found myself overcome by fatigue. I'd been running since 4 am, and now the sun had gone down again and my body was ready for sleep, not for more running. I'm not sure if it was running on little sleep, or the fact that I'd been on my feet so many hours in a row, or even if my current grief-stricken state in the wake of Grandma's passing was to blame, but running at night (after having run all day long) really disoriented me. I found myself having trouble tracking Heather's headlamp beam in the distance, and getting confused and a little frustrated when I had trouble gauging the distance between us. I got a little nauseated, too, but the ginger wasn't helping much.

This was a challenging training run - both physically and emotionally - and a really, really valuable learning experience. At HURT, I need to remember to stay focused on what's immediately in front of me on the trail, especially at night, so that I can try to avoid this same phenomenon from happening again. And I'm going to try to be patient with myself when I'm sleep-deprived, tired and confused. Who wouldn't be, after so many hours on their feet, and having pushed pretty hard most of the way? Training runs are exactly for this purpose: to truly push yourself to determine what you need to look out for during a race, and to get accustomed to the fatigue of a really, really, really long day. So as training runs go, I'd say this one was a real success, even though (or precisely because) it was hard.

At the end of the run, I called Christi from Andrea & Sarah's to let her know I was on my way home, and out of the blue, I burst into tears -- completely unlike my usual self. Andrea and Sarah ended up driving me home; I was that out of sorts. All of this is to say that it really does take a team to complete a tough run like this: a trusted training partner, friends who'll meet you early in the morning and late in the afternoon, friends who'll comfort you even when you, yourself, aren't sure why you need it. I have an awesome team around me, and I am so grateful and lucky.

My Garmin battery died at mile 39.28; estimated distance between that point and Andrea & Sarah's is 5.6 miles; we then went out for 3rd lap with Heather (9 miles, fairly flat) for a total estimated distance of 54 miles and more than 10,000 feet of climbing. Whew - what a day!

See you on the trail!

Missing a Trail Companion

2010-11-27T18:15:00.023-07:00

My grandmother, Mary Elizabeth Waddell, passed away on Thanksgiving day, after showing us all what a well-lived life looks like. We already miss her so much, but I feel immensely grateful to have known her and to have felt her influence in my life.

Grandma has always loved the outdoors, and passed that love along to every member of her family, as well as anyone else she met! Among her church community, Grandma was the one to call when out-of-towners were visiting and you needed a trail expert to tell you where to take visitors hiking so that they'd see the best of Colorado's natural beauty. She and my grandfather loved the outdoors, and my dad, aunt and uncles tell wonderful stories about their childhood -- much of it spent in the Colorado Rocky Mountains.

My grandparents in their natural habitat, a.k.a. Rocky Mountain National Park. 1950s.

The family that skis together... 1964.

Early in my life, on a hike with Grandma (Sprague Lake, Rocky Mountain National Park) 1978.

I spent much of my childhood in the mountains with Grandma. She knew the names of most of the birds and flowers, and had an encyclopedic knowledge of the trails themselves: how long they were, how steep, and where they all connected to each other. My love of the trail is certainly due in no small part to her influence.

Grandma loved to travel, and visited many countries around the world, including coming to see me in Paris when I was living there. 1998.

On the Georgetown Loop Railroad to celebrate Grandma's 83rd birthday. August, 2008.

Grandma passed away peacefully Thursday afternoon, surrounded by people who love her. Her body had gradually stopped working, and in recent weeks she's lamented not being able to get out onto the trail. So yesterday morning, missing her so much already, I knew where I needed to be. And while it sounds overly sentimental, I can say I felt her presence with me out there, as I ran up the hills and through the trees. Grandma is free again, and she's roaming the trails in a whole new way.

See you on the trail.

Another Great Day on the Trail

2010-11-20T14:56:00.006-07:00

Thank you to Kristel for joining me, Sarah (and of course Roo!) on the trail this morning. We got in almost 30 miles, but (more importantly) 6,700 feet of climbing. Oh -- and while we know we're never alone out there, today we found some interesting evidence of a fellow "trail runner." Check out his or her footprint:
Sarah found this link and I'd say it's a pretty good match to the print above. Wow.

We did a lot of climbing today, but I'd say our training is working: the climbing is starting to feel easier. Or maybe it's just that not having as much snow on the trail helped a lot.

See you on the trail!

Invincible, After 40 Miles in the Snow

2010-11-12T20:25:00.038-07:00

I know training is supposed to make you feel stronger. But I had an incredible experience yesterday that made me feel totally invincible.

All week long, I'd been watching the weather. Sarah and I had a forty-mile run planned, and the forecast was looking more and more bleak. We've had such great weather so far in our training, but hey - this is Colorado - anything can happen, and winter is coming. So it should have come as no surprise when more and more snow was forecast for yesterday, the day we'd planned for our Next Big Run.

I spent a lot of Wednesday pulling together my snowy-weather gear: warm tights, insulating layers, shell layers... you name it. I brought along my Kahtoola microspikes. I haven't done much running in the snow, and certainly not any runs of this length, with this much climbing. I was more than a little anxious as I went to bed Wednesday night, wondering what could go wrong if we ended up running through a blizzard.

But yesterday's 40-mile run in the snow ended up being a LOT of fun, even though it was incredibly challenging. The snowflakes, especially in the dark at our 5 am start, were beautiful. The quiet of the snowfall, which continued most of the day, gave the run a meditative quality that our other runs haven't had. Running in the snow was certainly tough - a bit like running in sand, where you sink in and slide back a bit with each forward step.
Two other challenges made this training run tougher than other long runs I've done. One was that most of the time, on dry terrain, running downhill offers something of a reprieve along the run, an "easy" stretch after a tough effort climbing. But running downhill in snow - at least for me - means keeping a lot of muscles tense that would have gotten more of a relaxing "break" on a dry trail. The other challenge - one I'm noticing today, a day after the run - is that my toes took quite a beating, knocking against unseen rocks, hidden under the snow. I'm definitely more sore today from the downhill tension and the beating my toes took than I would normally be after a long run.
The cool thing, though? The "mental toughness" aspect of yesterday's training is really powerful. I know intellectually that I'm not invincible, but following through with a planned long training run despite the weather, and then running a tough 40 miles through the snow, has boosted my confidence a lot. I'm starting to feel, as a runner, as though I can face challenges with an attitude of "bring it on!" And that feels great.
The batteries of my poor chilled Garmin died around mile 30, but this captures the first 9 hours. The photos, too, are a little odd, given the snowflakes that landed on the lens, but I think they look pretty cool anyway, and capture a bit of yesterday's surreality.

See you on the trail!

"Fall Back" to Mountain Standard Time Means Another Hour to Run!

2010-11-07T19:18:00.010-07:00

Gus, Jasper and I headed out to one of our favorite trails this morning to get in some climbing (yay!) and gorgeous scenery (double yay!) before the day got underway. With the time change, we figured we had a "bonus hour" to spend on the trail.

Wanna run this trail with us? Come along for the Nov 11 training run! Hills, hills, and lots of fun.

See you on the trail!

Sharing the Trail

2010-11-03T19:52:00.007-06:00

Having grown up in Colorado as an avid hiker and camper, I've long been aware of our region's diverse wildlife. Still, "knowing" about the thriving animal populations just outside my front door is different than viewing photographic evidence of all the creatures with whom I share our local trails.

Recently I checked out the Bobcat Ridge Wildlife Camera Project's website, where a number of recent photos captured via heat- and motion-activated cameras from our local natural areas are displayed. The diversity of animal species, and sheer numbers of photos captured, is impressive. Deer, elk, bears, mountain lions, coyotes... images of these animals and others are right there, demonstrating conclusively that when we head out on the trails, we're entering the habitat of a lot of creatures, many of them capable of savoring us as their next snack.

All in all, I'm ok with that; in fact, I gain a great deal of peace from venturing into the wild. But just so you're all aware of our fellow "trail runners" who join us every day on the local trails, I thought I'd post a few of the more interesting shots from the Bobcat Ridge Wildlife Camera Project. Enjoy -- and see you on the trail!

Arthur's Rock Hill Repeats

2010-10-29T20:15:00.001-06:00

As Sarah and I continue to refine our training loop to prepare ourselves for HURT, we've had a few surprises. One came today, when (in an effort to get in as many vertical feet as possible) we headed out to the Arthur's Rock trail to do some hill repeats. The funny surprise? Repeating this one hill actually earned us fewer vertical feet than our usual loop.

Ah, well -- at least we got some quality running in with our friend Cat, who (as a veteran 100-miler and finisher of the Leadville Trail 100) had some very useful tips for us, and was great company on the trail. We hope she'll run with us again, even though we tortured her by going up Arthur's Rock not once, not twice, but THREE times today. God bless her!

See you on the trail!

Make Your Voice Heard!

2010-10-27T19:50:00.006-06:00

Trail runners who live locally:

The City of Fort Collins Natural Areas Program is updating the management plan that applies to 19 natural areas along the Cache La Poudre River. Citizens are invited to share their feedback; input will help planners determine management of the city-owned/managed natural areas along the Poudre River for the next 10 years.

Think about attending the Open House/Update event: Tuesday, November 9, 4- 7 p.m., at the Northside Aztlan Center, 112 East Willow.

After November 9, a “virtual open house” will be available online for those who did not attend the November 9 event.

Our natural areas are an important part of the quality of life we enjoy in Fort Collins, particularly those of us who are "heavy users" of the trails. So make your voice heard, and attend one of these events.

See you on the trail!

And a Few More Hills...

2010-10-23T08:10:00.009-06:00

The long climbs to train for HURT continue!

Today we went about 30 miles, with about 7,800 feet of climbing. The amazing thing is, I think the training is starting to work. Sarah and I started the run with two climbs up the Arthur's Rock trail (a fairly steep haul, with more than a few big steps up) and it's starting to feel a little easier. By the end of the day, it's true that the trip up Horsetooth Rock was a bit of a struggle, but still - it's amazing what training can do, and I'm starting to believe we can train ourselves for HURT using our (very) hilly training loop. Whew!

See you on the trail!

Pushing Past Pain to Improve Performance

2010-10-18T17:29:00.011-06:00

I've often wondered, perusing the latest article about any given elite runner, how much his or her success can be attributed to genetics and other biomechanical advantages, and how much is the result of old-fashioned hard work. It's easy, after all, to watch the Olympics or any big-city marathon on television and come away with the impression that the elites are capable of running faster than the rest of us, but with not much more effort. Elegant runners like Radcliffe and Tergat only exacerbate this notion, since they seem to glide to the finish hardly having broken a sweat.

I enjoyed this article in today's New York Times, which dispels this misconception, and delves into some of the tenacity required to succeed as a professional runner.
Enjoy! And see you on the trail.

The New York Times
How to Push Past the Pain, as the Champions Do
By GINA KOLATA
Published: October 18, 2010
Photograph by Ian Walton, Getty Images.

My son, Stefan, was running in a half marathon in Philadelphia last month when he heard someone coming up behind him, breathing hard.

To his surprise, it was an elite runner, Kim Smith, a blond waif from New Zealand. She has broken her country’s records in shorter distances and now she’s running half marathons. She ran the London marathon last spring and will run the New York marathon next month.

That day, Ms. Smith seemed to be struggling. Her breathing was labored and she had saliva all over her face. But somehow she kept up, finishing just behind Stefan and coming in fifth with a time of 1:08:39.

And that is one of the secrets of elite athletes, said Mary Wittenberg, president and chief executive of the New York Road Runners, the group that puts on the ING New York City Marathon. They can keep going at a level of effort that seems impossible to maintain.

“Mental tenacity — and the ability to manage and even thrive on and push through pain — is a key segregator between the mortals and immortals in running,” Ms. Wittenberg said.

You can see it in the saliva-coated faces of the top runners in the New York marathon, Ms. Wittenberg added.

“We have towels at marathon finish to wipe away the spit on the winners’ faces,” she said. “Our creative team sometimes has to airbrush it off race photos that we want to use for ad campaigns.”

Tom Fleming, who coaches Stefan and me, agrees. A two-time winner of the New York marathon and a distance runner who was ranked fourth in the world, he says there’s a reason he was so fast.

“I was given a body that could train every single day.” Tom said, “and a mind, a mentality, that believed that if I trained every day — and I could train every day — I’ll beat you.”

“The mentality was I will do whatever it takes to win,” he added. “I was totally willing to have the worst pain. I was totally willing to do whatever it takes to win the race.”

But the question is, how do they do it? Can you train yourself to run, cycle, swim or do another sport at the edge of your body’s limits, or is that something that a few are born with, part of what makes them elites?

Sports doctors who have looked into the question say that, at the very least, most people could do a lot better if they knew what it took to do their best.

“Absolutely,” said Dr. Jeroen Swart, a sports medicine physician, exercise physiologist and champion cross-country mountain biker who works at the Sports Science Institute of South Africa.

“Some think elite athletes have an easy time of it,” Dr. Swart said in a telephone interview. Nothing could be further from the truth.

And as athletes improve — getting faster and beating their own records — “it never gets any easier,” Dr. Swart said. “You hurt just as much.”

But, he added, “Knowing how to accept that allows people to improve their performance.”

One trick is to try a course before racing it. In one study, Dr. Swart told trained cyclists to ride as hard as they could over a 40-kilometer course. The more familiar they got with the course, the faster they rode, even though — to their minds — it felt as if they were putting out maximal effort on every attempt.

Then Dr. Swart and his colleagues asked the cyclists to ride the course with all-out effort, but withheld information about how far they’d gone and how far they had to go. Subconsciously, the cyclists held back the most in this attempt, leaving some energy in reserve.

That is why elite runners will examine a course, running it before they race it. That is why Lance Armstrong trained for the grueling Tour de France stage on l’Alpe d’Huez by riding up the mountain over and over again.

“You are learning exactly how to pace yourself,” Dr. Swart said.

Another performance trick during competitions is association, the act of concentrating intensely on the very act of running or cycling, or whatever your sport is, said John S. Raglin, a sports psychologist at Indiana University.

In studies of college runners, he found that less accomplished athletes tended to dissociate, to think of something other than their running to distract themselves.

“Sometimes dissociation allows runners to speed up, because they are not attending to their pain and effort,” he said. “But what often happens is they hit a sort of physiological wall that forces them to slow down, so they end up racing inefficiently in a sort of oscillating pace.” But association, Dr. Raglin says, is difficult, which may be why most don’t do it.

Dr. Swart says he sees that in cycling, too.

“Our hypothesis is that elite athletes are able to motivate themselves continuously and are able to run the gantlet between pushing too hard — and failing to finish — and underperforming,” Dr. Swart said.

To find this motivation, the athletes must resist the feeling that they are too tired and have to slow down, he added. Instead, they have to concentrate on increasing the intensity of their effort. That, Dr. Swart said, takes “mental strength,” but “allows them to perform close to their maximal ability.”

Dr. Swart said he did this himself, but it took experience and practice to get it right. There were many races, he said, when “I pushed myself beyond my abilities and had to withdraw, as I was completely exhausted.”

Finally, with more experience, Dr. Swart became South Africa’s cross-country mountain biking champion in 2002.

Some people focus by going into a trancelike state, blocking out distractions. Others, like Dr. Swart, have a different method: He knows what he is capable of and which competitors he can beat, and keeps them in his sight, not allowing himself to fall back.

“I just hate to lose,” Dr. Swart said. “I would tell myself I was the best, and then have to prove it.”

Kim Smith has a similar strategy.

“I don’t want to let the other girls get too far ahead of me,” she said in a telephone interview. “I pretty much try and focus really hard on the person in front of me.”

And while she tied her success to having “some sort of talent toward running,” Ms. Smith added that there were “are a lot of people out there who were probably just as talented. You have to be talented, and you have to have the ability to push yourself through pain.”

And, yes, she does get saliva all over her face.

“It’s not a pretty sport,” Ms. Smith said. “You are not looking good at the end.”

As for the race she ran with my son, she said: “I’m sorry if I spit all over Stefan.” (She didn’t, Stefan said.)

Pacing a Rising Star at the Boulder 100

2010-10-18T07:17:00.080-06:00

So much of what you read about running has to do with one's own training and racing: training for a race, or lifting weights to strengthen yourself for competition, or how to pace yourself to meet your goals. But I had an amazing experience over the weekend that had nothing to do with my own running, and I encourage all of you to give it a try if you have the opportunity: Pace someone at a race.

My friend Kristel moved to Colorado just a few months ago, and we've run together from time to time. A few weeks ago, she asked me to pace her at the Boulder 100, which was to be her first 100-mile race. I've volunteered at races in a variety of capacities, but never have I had the experience of keeping someone company while they're running in competition. So of course I said yes.

I wasn't sure exactly how to prepare for this duty. I familiarized myself with the course online, and Kristel and I ran together a few more times. We talked a bit about how she runs ultras: what she eats (almost anything), what she drinks (again, almost anything), and what she expected from me ("Just keep me company through the night!") I could hardly have asked for a more low-maintenance, easy-going runner.

Flash forward to last Saturday. Dad and I went out to dinner, and he asked what I was doing for the rest of the weekend.
"Well," I said, "after you and I finish eating dinner, I'm driving out to Boulder Reservoir, where I'm going to sleep for a bit in the back of my car, set my alarm for 1:30 am, and then run for 30 miles or so with Kristel."
"Oh. Ok," he replied. Dad is familiar enough with me and my crazy running friends that I can say just about anything about running and it doesn't surprise him.

Upon arriving at the reservoir around 9 pm, I checked in at the timing desk. Kristel was doing great, running with her friend Ryan Rowley, a fast marathoner and the first night pacer. As I headed back to my car to get some sleep, the unmistakable sound of retching filled the air. An unhappy runner was throwing up into the bushes. I was heading over to see if he needed help, but a race volunteer got there first and helped him back to the timing desk and main aid station. 12 hours into the race, and there were already some impressive struggles underway.

I managed to get almost four hours of sleep by the time my alarm went off. I dressed and headed back to the timing desk, chatted a bit with the race volunteers, and checked on Kristel's progress. She was running strong, and expected back in any minute. Sure enough, it wasn't long 'til I heard her laughter on the air. A bit before 2 am, I turned and found Kristel and Ryan making their way past the timing desk for the mini-loop through the parking lot before her tenth loop would be considered complete. I joined them and got an update on how things were going as we ran.

The funniest thing was, everything was funny to Kristel. Not only was she in great spirits, she was almost in hysterics. It was dark, and the course (a fairly flat course around a parking lot and part of the reservoir) offered little distraction from the task at hand. But Kristel, it seemed, could not have been happier. She placed a food order with Ryan, who was going for some take-out once the loop was done, and (giggling) we headed back out on the course.

I don't know what I was expecting, but I certainly wasn't expecting the run to seem so easy. When Kristel and I started running together, she'd already covered 70 miles. I guess I was expecting that she'd be tired, or sore, or... well... something other than perfectly cheerful and happy. But as we ran, the only indications that she was more than halfway through a hundred-mile race was that:
1)everything was funny. We laughed and laughed and laughed, at plenty of things that under normal circumstances would not have been that amusing. And,
2)every now and then, Kristel would lean into me as we were running. We joked that she would need to stop that, since I wouldn't be much good to her as a pacer if she pushed me into the reservoir, but by the end she had a tough time maintaining a straight line. Chalk that one up to having run 70+ miles at a solid pace; not everything is going to be 100% normal after that kind of effort!

Kristel ran with such strength, focus and happiness the whole time that she made running 100 miles look easy. Oh - and did I mention that she finished as the third-place female, on her first hundred-mile run? It was an awesome performance.

Ryan came back for the final loop, as did Kristel's husband, Justin. It was awesome for all of us to run that last lap with her, knowing she was about to have covered 100 miles in just a bit over 24 hours. And the whole time Kristel was pretty nonchalant about the whole thing, like she'd just headed out for a long run and thought to herself, "Heck, I guess I'll just keep running and get 100 miles in." Her patience and great attitude was a real inspiration to me, since (though I can't quite believe this yet) I'm doing a 100-miler of my own in January.

So I encourage all of you to seek out an opportunity to pace a fellow runner on a long race. It is so inspiring to be a small part of another runner's effort to achieve a major goal.
At the finish line, Justin & Kristel Liddle, me & Ryan Rowley.

See you on the trail!

Blue Sky Marathon

2010-10-04T06:42:00.012-06:00

So, is it just me, or do I seem to have more "learning experiences" than other runners I know?

There was the time I learned a tough lesson about eating enough on the run. And a really uncomfortable race that taught me a lot about training & hydration, and staying cool in the heat. Overall I enjoyed yesterday's Blue Sky Marathon, but made some pacing errors early on that I hope not to repeat.

I'll post my splits here, and narrate the story they tell. Here goes:

Mile 1: "So cold! Must speed up a little to warm up."
Miles 2-3.1: "I love this trail. I feel soooo good. This is gonna be fun."
Miles 3.1-5: "A big steep hill! My favorite thing! It'll feel twice as good to push up it even harder. Bring it on!"
Miles 5-8: "Downhill! Wheeeeeeeeee!"
Mile 9: "Uh-oh... did I really clock that last mile in 8:52? I should slow down or I'll pay for this later."
Mile 11: "Eek! Another 9:00 split?! I need to slow down. SLOW DOWN!"
Mile 13: "Here comes another hill. Bring it on! Yeah!"
Mile 13.5: "Uh-oh... this feels tougher than the first hill, even though it's less steep. That fast start must be catching up to me."
Miles 18-20: "Ouch! This slickrock is... well... hard as rock. Feet starting to get sore. Heat starting to get a little uncomfortable."
Miles 20.3-22: "I could swear this hill was a lot shorter on the way out than it is now, on the way back..."
Mile 25: "Just a mile more. Just a mile more."
Mile 26.2: "Wasn't the race supposed to be over at this point?!"
Mile 27: "Whew! The finish line!"

I'm not usually one to go out too fast, but I did yesterday, and it caught up to me later on. It's good to, as so many people say, "listen to your body" when you're on the run. But your head needs to be in control of the race plan, and yesterday my head should've taken charge earlier on, so that the part of me that was saying "let's FLY!" could be reined in by the part of me that would say "let's be a little more strategic here about how we use our energy resources."

The volunteers at yesterday's race were amazing, and the course marshals made a point of cheering for every runner by name as they jotted down our bib numbers. "Go Ashley!" is so much more motivating than "Go, runner 100!" So thank you, volunteers!

The BEST part about yesterday's race had nothing to do with me - it was seeing my friends who had just finished their first half marathons (yes, I mean YOU, Ali and Andrea!) as well as Heather, who ran a very strong race, and Sarah, who paced Andrea in the half. Running isn't much fun by yourself, and I am incredibly lucky to be a part of such a rockin' group of runners.

I took a few photos of this scenic race at a couple of points along the way. Enjoy!

Best running team ever! Nice work today, ladies!

See you on the trail!

Golden Gate Canyon in Autumn

2010-09-26T21:01:00.004-06:00

Anyone who read my race report on the Golden Gate Dirty Thirty knows I loved the scenery I experienced at Golden Gate Canyon State Park. It is, quite simply, stunning.

So when an opportunity arose to volunteer at a race there (the Golden Gate Canyon Trail Half Marathon, produced by Adam at RunUphill Racing, I jumped at the chance to return to Golden Gate Canyon. And I wasn't disappointed.

I left the house at 5:30 this morning to make it to the race by 7:30. After checking the preregistered runners in, we had a bit of down time before it was time to slice melon and get the post-race snacks arranged for the hungry racers who would soon be headed our way. Before long, the runners were back. After helping organize the awards and making sure the post-race food was all in order, it was time for me to head out on a run of my own. (Incidentally, for those of you who enjoy the half-marathon distance, the word from the racers was that this was a beautiful, well-marked course not to be missed -- so be sure to race this one next year, folks!)

I didn't have a lot of time for my run, since I needed to return home fairly soon, so I opted to get the most elevation per mile and climb Windy Peak. Today's early-autumn conditions made the trail seem completely different from last time I experienced it, back in June, when clumps of snow still lingered along the edges of some of the trails. The aspens are starting to turn, and the air has a cool crispness to it now. I took several photos on the way up. Enjoy! And see you on the trail.

Climbing, and More Climbing...

2010-09-24T20:45:00.001-06:00

The training for HURT continues. We've got a good loop worked up with lots of climbing! Today's long run with Sarah and Roo consisted of two trips up Arthur's Rock, a descent along Howard Trail, then up Yucky Hill and Horsetooth Rock Trail before heading back to Sarah's. About 5,800 feet of climbing in a little over 20 miles. Thank you, hills! You are making us stronger.

See you on the trail!

A Foggy Run at Lory & Horsetooth

2010-09-18T21:47:00.004-06:00

This morning's training run was an otherworldly trip to another place entirely, far from Horsetooth Mountain Park and Lory State Park, where ostensibly Sarah, Roo and I were running. No, as you can see from these photos, today's run took place in New Zealand, or some misty moor in Wales, or... well... just about anyplace other than arid northern Colorado. Enjoy -- and see you on the trail!

Another Day on the Trail

2010-09-10T17:06:00.043-06:00

In the weeks since my unexpected lottery win (and Sarah's first 100-mile finish!) we have been strategizing on how best to prepare for HURT. The H.U.R.T. 100 is run on a modified loop course, with about 5,500 feet of elevation gain per loop, so basically what we're trying to do is get used to climbing hills, and more hills, and -- oh yeah -- still more hills.

Today's run was not bad - 19 miles with 3,800 feet of climbing - but we'll be adding more hills to the loop.

Oh - and there was some unexpected excitement, too! As we stopped partway through the loop to refill hydration packs at our water drop, Sarah was bouldering (and had just jumped off the rock) when I caught a glimpse of this little creature out of the corner of my eye...
I pulled Sarah out of the way - she was just about to step on the snake - and then she got really, really close anyway and took this photo with her iphone.

But it's a great photo, no? Totally worth the risk. :-)

See you on the trail, friends.

A Ten-Legged Running Machine

2010-09-05T21:28:00.005-06:00

Some months ago -- almost a year ago, amazingly! -- I wrote about two new running partners: Gus and Jasper. They continue to share the trail with me more frequently than any other runners, human or otherwise. Together we are a ten-legged running machine; their irrepressible energy gets me out the door when I might be tempted to stay in bed.

Adopting them from Animal House Rescue & Grooming is one of the best things I've ever done, and if you're a runner looking for a devoted trail buddy, your best friend is out there somewhere, waiting for you -- visit a shelter near you!

We took a mellow run up the Stout Trail this morning and I got some great photos of the happy boys enjoying our favorite activity. See you on the trail!

No Race for Ashley

2010-08-25T18:46:00.004-06:00

So, there's some good news and some bad news.

The good news is, this x-ray is not of my wrist:

The bad news is, my mom has broken her wrist, and will need surgery on Friday. The day before the Lean Horse Half Hundred, which I'd planned on running.

So... no race for me. I'd heard from some of you in recent days, wishing me well for Lean Horse, and I definitely appreciate all the support! For now, I'm just counting my blessings and am grateful all my bones are intact.

See you on the trail!

Reflections on Winning the Lottery

2010-08-08T19:08:00.003-06:00

It started, as these adventures always do, innocuously enough.

My friend Sarah has run in the Hawaii Ultra Running Team 100-mile Endurance Run, aka the H.U.R.T. 100, for the past two years, and her stories of this notoriously difficult race have piqued my curiosity about maybe running it one day. From time to time, ascending a steep, rocky, rooty portion of the Mill Creek trail, she'd casually mention it's a "good trail for H.U.R.T. training." But this was just conversation. I didn't give H.U.R.T. much thought, beyond feeling fairly certain that my first 100-mile race wasn't going to be on an island four time zones away, with some of the most technical trails anywhere and 25,000 feet of climbing.

But then one night I came home from work to find this posted on my Facebook wall:
And then a dangerous thing happened: I started seriously considering it.

Mostly, it's because I have trouble passing up a good challenge. But the fact the race would take me to Hawaii - a place I've never visited before - also held some appeal. And if Sarah would be training for H.U.R.T. too, I'd have company on at least some of the long runs that training for it would require. I also figured that I'd be pretty unlikely to win a spot at H.U.R.T. Entry to the race is achieved via a weighted lottery, which awards points (or more precisely, "kukui nuts") corresponding to a number of categories, including experience at H.U.R.T. and service to the H.U.R.T. trails - none of which I had. I figured there must be loads of runners out there who would have priority over someone like me, so hey -- what risk was there, really, of entering the lottery?

So I went straight to Ultrasignup.com and submitted my name.

Some days went by. I didn't think much more about it.

Then yesterday, Lottery Day arrived. Christi and I had plans to see a movie last evening, but the lottery would be broadcast online starting at 6pm Colorado time. I figured I'd go online and watch 'til we had to leave. Surely the lottery would be over by the time we needed to leave for the theater.

I logged in to watch at 6, to find that the lottery was pushed back to 6:15.

At 6:15, no names appeared. I kept refreshing the web page... still no names.

Then at 6:30, a name appeared: Marian Yasuda. Sarah's sister was IN! I texted Andrea (crewing Sarah & Marian at the Headlands 100) the good news and kept refreshing the page.

A few more names appeared. Twelve minutes later, Sarah's name appeared. EXCELLENT! I knew she'd be thrilled. I texted Andrea again.

At this point, Christi and I needed to leave for our movie. The lottery obviously wasn't over yet, but I wasn't that concerned -- there was no chance I'd be getting in, remember? -- so we got in the car, Christi behind the wheel so I could check the lottery on my smartphone, just in case.

Name after name appeared as I refreshed the lottery page, but mine wasn't among them. We arrived at the theater, bought our movie tickets, and settled in. The movie would start at 7:30, which was quickly approaching, and I knew I'd need to turn off my phone when the lights went down for the previews.

So I refreshed the page one last time, and was astounded to see this appear:
Yes, that's my name, in the upper right, above Dave Walick's.

Oh. My. God.

I turned to Christi and showed her the phone. Her jaw dropped, and then we kissed. I got into H.U.R.T.! I'd be running H.U.R.T. in January! Breathless and in disbelief, I texted Andrea a third time to pass the news along. The lights in the theater began to dim, and I put my phone away.

Still stunned, I don't remember watching any of the previews. The movie itself, though, was a surreal experience. The film, "Inception," is all about lucid dreaming, and melds reality and dreams in unexpected ways. I'd get completely absorbed into the film, and then it would hit me: I'm running H.U.R.T.! And then I'd fall back into the movie again. Reality? A dream? It was all unbelievable.

The film ended, the credits rolled, and the lights came up again. It dawned on me, all over again, that I'd gotten into H.U.R.T. Or had I? Had my name really been drawn?

I pulled out my phone and refreshed the page. My name was still there.

Is this what it feels like to win the lottery? If so, it's amazing.

So now the hard work begins. H.U.R.T. is one of the toughest 100-mile races anywhere, and I will be training diligently to prepare. I really want to finish, even though I know the odds are long: fewer than half the 100-mile starters make it the full distance, even on a good year. There's also a wait list 56 runners long, filled with people who didn't make it into the race, and I owe it to them to make the most of this incredible opportunity.

It's the beginning of an amazing adventure, and a great challenge. But as the H.U.R.T. runners say, "'Aole makou e ho'ohikiwale kela." We wouldn't want it to be easy!

See you on the trail.

North Fork 50 Mile Race

2010-07-21T20:43:00.011-06:00

So, I can hardly believe it, but I am now a 50-mile trail race finisher! I ran the North Fork 50 on Saturday in about 12:45, feeling good most of the way, and -- this is the real triumph -- having done this, I actually am interested in covering the distance again.

It was 53 degrees but felt much cooler as a nervous band of ultrarunners gathered in Pine Valley Ranch Park for the race start. Shivering in the moist morning air, I tried to listen as Race Director Janice O'Grady made some opening comments, but the butterflies in my stomach distracted my attention. What if it gets really hot today? What if I'm not able to make the cutoff times? Am I really going to be able to finish this? But just as the doubts started to creep in, the mass of runners counted down from ten in unison, and we were off!
Sarah (cool as a cucumber) and me (chanting some kind of prayer for my own survival), at the start line.
(Photo by Andrea/McIntosh-Waddell Running Team.)
Sarah and I let a lot of runners pass us, sticking to the conservative pace we'd discussed in the days leading up to the race. The course started on fairly flat terrain, along a creek, and then wasted little time in climbing about 1,000 feet in the first two miles or so as it left Pine Valley Ranch Park and entered the Pike National Forest. "It wasn't that long ago, we were all freezing!" a fellow runner commented, wiping sweat from his brow as we continued to climb.

The race begins in cool, shady forest -- but after a few miles the course winds across two burn areas: the 2000 Hi Meadows Fire and the 1996 Buffalo Creek Fire. Race proceeds benefit the North Fork Volunteer Fire Department, and now that I've run through these burn areas I have a renewed appreciation for the challenging nature of these brave volunteers' task!
The race starts in Pine Valley Ranch Park (Hi Meadows Fire burn area) and moves into the Buffalo Creek Fire burn area. Click on any image to enlarge it.
The burn areas definitely represented some tough running. Our morning traverse of the Hi Meadows Fire burn area was fairly pleasant, given that the sun wasn't high in the sky, but I could already tell on our first pass that the next time we crossed this section of the course, the sun would make it a lot less pleasant.
Running through part of the Hi Meadows Fire burn area, near the start of the race.
Almost before we knew it, we'd passed through two aid stations. The miles slipped by so quickly, it was unreal. The course moved back into a forested area, which gave us a bit of a reprieve as the sun started to beat down a little harder.
Forested trail between the Buffalo Creek and Shinglemill aid stations.

Sarah, coming into the Shinglemill Aid Station.
(Photo by Andrea/McIntosh-Waddell Running Team.)
Before we knew it, Sarah and I reached the Shinglemill aid station. Our steadfast crew, Andrea, awaited us there with some other ultrarunning friends, Ed and Pat. They asked how things were going while the aid-station volunteers refilled our hydration packs. Ed told us he'd be the aid station captain of the Sandy Wash Aid Station (mile 42.3) and promised us he'd have popsicles for us when we arrived. Excellent!

Sarah and Ed at Shinglemill. Yes, he really is that tall.
(Photo by Andrea/McIntosh-Waddell Running Team.)

Pack back on, ready to run!
(Photo by Andrea/McIntosh-Waddell Running Team.)
Hydration packs filled, we said our goodbyes to Andrea, Ed and Pat, and made our way back down the trail. After a mile or two in shady forest, we ran for several miles through the Buffalo Creek Fire burn area. The fire happened 14 years ago, but it must have been a devastating one: the trees have hardly begun to grow back, and while wildflowers and grasses do grow here now, the landscape is a fairly barren one, with interestingly-shaped boulders looking out over a broad expanse of burned stumps and logs where a forest once grew.
Leaving a forested stretch of the Shinglemill Trail to run through the Buffalo Creek burn area.
Soon we found ourselves back at the Buffalo Creek aid station, and I took this opportunity to throw out 20 miles' worth of empty GU packets, resupply my GU stash with what I'd left in my drop bag, and grab the handheld bottle filled with Perpetuem that I'd left in my mini-cooler. The aid station volunteers (and their kids) sprayed us off with cool creek water, and filled our packs with water and ice. Things were going well, we were ahead of pace, and I was feeling good.

But that didn't last for long.

Over the next three miles -- a 1,000 foot climb up the Baldy Trail -- I grew more nauseated with each step. Weakness expanded through every muscle and tendon. I felt hot, despite the ice and water in my pack. Nausea made the Perpetuem taste more like mud than coffee. This was not good.

I didn't see how I could stay in the race. I told Sarah she should consider going ahead without me, since staying with me could mean she'd risk not making the 50k time cutoff -- and she needed these fifty miles as a part of her Headlands Hundred training. She was unmoved by my suggestion. "We can discuss that later if we have to," she said, "but I'm sticking with you. You're doing great and we have plenty of time between now and the cutoff." Then, she took my pulse, determined it was higher than it should be, and laid out our strategy. "We're just going to take it slowly and walk up this hill. When your heart rate comes down we'll run some more." On I plodded.

In this section of trail we came across a couple other runners who seemed stricken with the same nausea I was experiencing. It was definitely getting hotter, which probably wasn't helping anyone. When we'd walked a little further and my nausea hadn't subsided, Sarah revealed the next step of her anti-nausea plan.

"Break out my peanut-butter crackers. You need to eat one."

I groaned. Eating solid food seemed like such a mistake at this stage, and I hadn't had the best results when I'd tried solid food beyond mile 16 in my training runs. But I didn't feel good enough to argue about it, either. And I figured, even if I eat the cracker only to throw it back up, I could hardly make myself feel worse at this point.

It's hard to describe just how awful the cracker tasted at that moment. The first bite I took, I felt all the moisture disappear from my mouth, so that I had to knock the cracker to the back of my throat and swallow it with water, like a pill, to get it down. It took four or five bites to swallow the whole thing. I kept walking, expecting at any moment to feel a rumbling inside as the cracker (along with all the GU and electrolyte pills I'd taken that day) would erupt all over the trail.

But amazingly, nothing happened. I didn't feel better, but I also didn't feel any worse. So I kept walking.

Soon enough, we arrived at the Miller Gulch aid station at mile 23.8, which was advertised as being an "unmanned water station," but which was in fact staffed by three very friendly volunteers. "What can we do for ya?" one volunteer asked with a big smile. His enthusiasm was contagious, and I smiled in return, despite my churning stomach. I handed him my pack and asked for as much ice as he could spare. I dumped out the rest of the Perpetuem from my handheld, and he filled that with ice and water too. "Your next aid station is 4 1/2 miles from here," he said, "And after that, you've got another volunteer at the 50k split. They'll send the 50k runners to the finish line, and the 50 mile runners to the psychiatric tent."

This made me laugh. He had no idea how much my mind was spinning at that point; I was still feeling lousy enough that I thought I might not be able to finish today. But strangely enough, as Sarah and I waved goodbye to him and took off from Miller Gulch, I started to feel better. Was it the laugh? the ice? the passage of time? the dreaded (gasp!) cracker? Some combination of all of the above?

The next stretch took us down a few switchbacks along Miller Gulch, then back across the Hi Meadows Fire burn area on the Homestead Trail.
Along the Miller Gulch Trail

Along the Homestead Trail, climbing back up toward the Homestead aid station.

Cool rock formations along the Homestead Trail.
It was heavenly to feel good again. The seven miles between the Miller Gulch aid station and the 50k cutoff flew by. Soon we found ourselves descending some switchbacks to the sound of cheering: Andrea was at the cutoff to meet us! She'd brought Sarah's iced coffee, and my next bottle of Perpetuem (which I'd end up leaving in the cooler, since I hadn't had much luck getting the previous bottle to go down.) She also had cold washcloths ready, and it felt amazing to wipe 30 miles' worth of sweat and dust off my face and neck.

Sarah, descending into the 50k split.
(Photo by Andrea/McIntosh-Waddell Running Team.)

Waving goodbye to our faithful crew after the 50k split.
(Photo by Andrea/McIntosh-Waddell Running Team.)
Saying goodbye to Andrea at the 50k split, it was almost unfathomable that the next time we saw her, we'd have run fifty miles. But I was feeling good, and the idea that I might finish this race was starting to become less of a dream, and more of a reality. The Buck Gulch Trail seemed steeper the second time around, but I was feeling so good I hardly cared. Soon enough, we were back at the Homestead aid station, and the volunteers there filled our packs and got us quickly on our way. We were really going to finish!

On the Gashouse Trail, crossing another part of the Buffalo Creek burn area.

We cruised into the Buffalo Creek aid station for the final time, mile 39.6. My giddiness seemed to match the mood of the volunteers: the kids squirted us off with water pistols while the adults scooped ice into our packs, and everyone was jolly. One volunteer wrapped a handful of ice into my bandana and then tied it around my neck. Heavenly! The ice would keep me cool for the next three miles as it slowly melted into cool water down my neck and back.

The next stretch of trail, a two-track dirt road, mostly follows alongside Buffalo Creek. We passed a beaver dam, some small waterfalls, and a number of houses along the road. Before long, we were at the Sandy Wash Aid Station. Ed and his crew cheered for us as we headed up the hill toward their tents. This is where the North Fork party was really happening.

"We were promised popsicles!" Sarah called out as we reached the aid station.

"And popsicles you shall have!" a volunteer quipped, pulling out a cold red one. "That is, unless you'd rather have a beer, or a vodka tonic!"

I haven't had a popsicle in years, but this one tasted so good! Even better than a beer, at this stage in the race. And the fact that we were almost done was really starting to sink in. The volunteers told us we had another 1,000 or so feet of climbing over the next 4.6 miles, and then it was all downhill from there. We headed out of the aid station taking it easy up the hills, enjoying our popsicles. After two miles on the Sandy Wash Trail, we found ourselves back on the Homestead Trail, and would retrace our steps for the final 5.5 or so miles.
Cool rocks on our way back across the Hi Meadows burn area.

These trails were now familiar enough that we could judge just how close we were to the finish. We flew down the switchbacks toward the 50k split, this time taking a right-hand turn toward the finish line. Andrea had stationed herself about .3 miles from the finish so that she could pace us in. She cheered, and ran, and took photos -- all at the same time!

And then, amazingly, we crossed the finish line and it was over. Fifty miles. What a feeling!
50 Miles!?!
(Photo by Andrea/McIntosh-Waddell Running Team.)
Sarah won a prize for finishing third in her age group. I was delighted to have a finisher's medal. It was a wonderful, wonderful day. Special thanks to Sarah, for all those days of training with me, for running this race with me, and for helping me push through when I felt terrible; Andrea, for crewing us (at this race and during our training runs) and offering such great support along the trail; and Christi, for taking care of our little family so that I can head out on wild adventures like this one. I am a lucky, lucky woman.
With Andrea at the finish!
Special thanks also go out to all the volunteers of the North Fork race. I could not have run these 50 miles without your hard work and good humor. I may run North Fork again one day, but next year I plan to join the ranks of the race volunteers! You made it all look like so much fun, how could I not join you?

Thank you, everyone, and see you on the trail!

Flirting With Disaster, or Beware the Runner's High!

2010-06-08T21:23:00.003-06:00

I must still be high from my Dirty Thirty 50k finish, for I can think of no other rational explanation for the insanity I'm currently contemplating.

Barely 24 hours after we finish the Golden Gate Dirty Thirty, this very tempting e-mail arrives from my friend Sarah. In just six words, she launches me down a potentially dangerous, surely unreasonable path:

In a saner state of mind, I would surely have considered I can't possibly be ready to run a 50-mile race less than six weeks from now, when I wasn't planning to take that step until late August. I'd have thought to myself, "Sounds like fun, Sarah -- maybe I'll pace you the last twenty miles and call it a day."

But that pesky runner's high is still with me. It felt amazing to finish a really tough 50k. How much more amazing might it feel to finish a fifty-mile race?!

Endorphins still coursing through my veins, I click through the North Fork 50 website. Beautiful scenery? check. Good cause? check. Reasonable cutoff times? check. And so here I teeter, poised just at the edge. Should I take the plunge?

The fact that I'm still contemplating this two days after Sarah's e-mail arrived has probably tipped you off, dear reader. What is life without a little risk, right?

Endorphins be damned. Ultra Signup, here I come!

See you on the trail.

Golden Gate Dirty Thirty

2010-06-06T11:22:00.032-06:00

I finished the Golden Gate Dirty Thirty yesterday, and am still grinning ear to ear. That's how fabulous this race is. With approximately 9,000 feet of cumulative altitude gain (and its attendant 9,000 feet of cumulative downhill) at elevations of 7,500 to 9,500 feet, it definitely represents a formidable challenge. With a spectacular view awaiting around every turn, though, every stretch of tough climbing is completely worth the effort.

The elevation profile. Click on the image to enlarge.

I've spent the past few weeks training with my friend Sarah on the trails at Horsetooth Mountain Park and Lory State Park: trails whose character and terrain are similar to Golden Gate Canyon State Park, but approximately 2,000 feet lower in elevation. Sarah ran the Dirty Thirty in 2009, and knew that to be prepared, we'd need to climb a lot of hills -- and I am so glad we did! The race opens with about 1,500 feet of climbing between miles 2 and 4, and there's hardly a stretch of flat trail for the 27 miles that follow.

The course starts with a short climb out of the parking lot, then across a wildflower-strewn meadow.
Crossing the meadow as the sun rises. Blurriness due to my not having stopped to snap the photo!
Soon you descend into a narrow valley alongside a stream, which you cross about a dozen times.
Sarah crosses the stream on a log "bridge" just as the camera slips from my sweaty fingers...
This is the part of the course where everyone is trying to establish his or her pace for the long haul, and my own challenge at this point was to keep to a conservative pace. In the cool of morning, and having slept well the night before, I felt fantastic at this point and it was hard psychologically to hold back as runner after runner passed me. I'm glad I ran my own race and let them pass, though: Sarah and I would pass many of these runners hours later, after they'd exhausted themselves while we were reaping the benefits of a conservative start.

Between miles 7 and 15, the course mostly winds through forested singletrack trails. There are some steep climbs in these sections, but we tried as much as possible to take it slow and steady on the uphills, knowing that plenty more climbing awaited us in the second half of the race.
Sarah climbs the rocks (writing "Sarah climbs the trail" seemed inaccurate for terrain like this.)

See these 50 or so feet behind Sarah? That's the one flat section of this course.

An incredible view from one summit along the way.

Virtually no flat trail exists on this course: the entire time you're either climbing or descending. Some very runnable portions exist, that feature relatively smooth trail, but many sections are not really "trail" at all; rather, surveyor's tape indicates where you're supposed to climb over boulders or scramble up rocky outcroppings. This, of course, makes the trail challenging -- but a lot of fun.

Thank you, surveyor's tape and helpful brown posts! How else would we think the trail goes this way?

Taking in the view from another summit.

Another gorgeous view - along with some welcome cloud cover!

I mentioned in an earlier post that I'd be trying to fuel this race essentially on GU and electrolytes alone, without much solid food. For whatever reason this seems to have worked very well for me; I took a GU and an S-Cap every 30 minutes throughout the race and experienced no nausea or bonking. Another thing that helped was loading my pack with ice, and drenching my hat & bandana in the cool creeks we encountered. The ice that the Aid Station 4 volunteers loaded into my hydration pack, just before we made the climb up Windy Peak (around mile 23.5), made all the difference. It was like getting a second wind, right when I needed it.

The Windy Peak climb was challenging, as promised. 1,100 feet in two miles, when you've already run 25 miles, takes its toll. In addition, the sun was really starting to bake any remaining energy out of us. But we took it slow and steady and eventually found ourselves near the top. Windy Peak seemed to tease us, especially toward the top: with each switchback completed we'd think we were nearly there, only to view another series of climbing switchbacks around the next corner.

Can you tell how happy we were to reach the top?
We logged some fast miles on the steep descent from Windy Peak. It felt great to stretch my legs and fly after spending so many miles engaged in steady, measured climbing. After pausing for a moment to dip our hats one last time in the stream, we made the final ascent of the race, and then descended toward the finish.

Sarah and I were lucky to have such an amazing cheering section: friends and family had set up camp along the final stretch and made us feel like rock stars as we crossed the finish line. It took a while for the finish to sink in; I'd been looking forward to (and getting a little anxious about) the challenge of the Dirty Thirty for many weeks, and I couldn't quite believe we'd really crossed it off the list.

My experience running this race could not have been more different from the... ahem... "learning experience" that Desert R.A.T.S. represented. The intense hills Sarah and I have been running lately served us very well at the Dirty Thirty. The core strengthening work I've been doing since April has also helped me maintain strong running form throughout a long, tough race like this one. And running a challenging race like this one is much more fun with a friend; Sarah and I were able to push each other through tough spots that would have felt pretty miserable to experience alone.

I may be back to run the Dirty Thirty again next year, and would recommend this race to anyone seeking a challenging course that falls toward the beginning of the summer. It's the perfect race to get you into great shape before the rest of the summer racing season begins.

Happy running, everyone... and see you on the trail!

Bring on the Frosting! Or, Can You Run Your Ultra on Gels Alone?

2010-05-23T13:58:00.000-06:00

I've been thinking a lot about on-the-run nutrition lately. Now in the throes of training for a 50-mile race, I troll the ultrarunning listservs and message boards somewhat obsessively for solid information on what people eat during an ultra, and - perhaps more importantly - how they keep it down.

Today's post comes as a result of a challenging training run yesterday: a run during which I truly succumbed to the kind of nausea and discomfort I hope never to experience in a race. Recent weeks have found me running frequently with my friend Sarah, an experienced ultramarathoner whose race resume includes a 100k finish at one of the toughest races out there: the H.U.R.T. 100, and who is currently training for a 100-miler coming up in a few weeks.

Sarah is tough. She's one of those natural runners who climbs steep inclines like they're rolling hills, and sustains an easy gait over almost incomprehensible distances - all with a smile on her face. But I'm starting to think one of the toughest things about Sarah is her stomach. You see, Sarah eats real food on the run, and when I try the same thing I seem to just get sick. On yesterday's training run, I could stomach mini "sandwiches" of saltines & peanut butter for about the first 14 miles, but after that they just wouldn't go down. Same is true of the mashed potatoes I tried to eat a week or two ago - they actually tasted ok going down, but running after having eaten them I started to feel a little "off."

All this got me thinking: Is it truly necessary to eat solid food on the run?

In my longest race to date, the Mt. Disappointment 50k, downing a GU every 30 minutes kept me from bonking, and while I certainly set no speed records that day, I finished the race feeling strong. Friends and family members thought it was funny I'd run 31 miles eating nothing but "frosting," but hey - it worked for me. Might I be able to use the same strategy for longer races?

Some minimal online research brought me to this article in UltraRunning magazine by Marin County sports nutritionist (and runner) Sunny Blende. After explaining that we can't just eat simple sugars on the run (the osmolality of our body fluids means that too-concentrated sugar solutions only lead to dehydration and cramping), Blende goes on to discuss the sports-nutrition advantages of maltodextrin, a complex carbohydrate (and the main ingredient in my beloved GU.)

In essence, because maltodextrin is a glucose polymer (and not a simple sugar) the body can absorb it readily in a 15 - 20 percent solution (rather than the 6 - 8 percent concentration for simple sugars), so the athlete can consume close to three times as many calories from maltodextrin as from simple sugars, while absorbing the GU at roughly the same rate as normal body fluids.

Blende closed her article with this paragraph, which I'll quote directly here, since for me, this is the part where the clouds parted and I could hear the angels start to sing:
Scientific studies show that complex carbohydrates are the fuel of choice for the ultrarunner. The gels offer an advantage by providing more calories per hour than sports drinks and by being easier to absorb than sports bars or solid food. For the back-of-the-pack runners who will be on the trail for many more hours than the elite runners, this can translate into more energy without going into a caloric deficit state. For the lead pack runners who are pushing themselves at a very high intensity (above 90 percent), the advantage can be less stomach distress and more calories can be absorbed for more energy. For those who are just using the ultra as a training run or are taking it easy, go ahead and enjoy the smorgasbord at the buffet table. But if you want to have an even better time, try some complex carbohydrates and watch the simple sugars.

In ultrarunning, we are all an experiment of one. Might I be able to finish my 50-miler this summer on GU alone? I guess we'll see. Some evidence indicates that may be enough, but at the same time, running with Sarah has made me more curious about solid fuels, too. I'm sure to continue experimenting with my nutrition plan throughout the summer until I find what works best for me.

In the meantime, for my 50k race two weeks from now, I'm strongly inclined to implement the plan that's worked for me in the past: a GU every 30 minutes, supplemented by some electrolyte caps as needed.

See you on the trail - and bring on the frosting!

Desert R.A.T.S. 25 Mile Trail Race

2010-04-18T18:06:00.025-06:00

Yesterday morning found me lining up with 200 or so other runners for the annual Desert R.A.T.S. Trailrunning Festival outside Fruita, Colorado. Technically this is a trail "race," but I'd reconciled myself a few weeks ago to taking this one as easy as possible: months of recurring colds had meant my mileage bank was nowhere up to par for a race like this one. The longest training run I'd managed this spring was an 18-miler, two months before, and it hadn't even been all that hilly. So I resolved to stick to an easy pace and enjoy the gorgeous red-rock scenery along the Colorado River.

At the start line. A cool morning, just before sunrise.

And we're off! I try to stick to the back of the pack, to avoid getting caught up in the excitement of the race start. On our left, Interstate 70 and the town of Mack; on our right, a hint of the climbing yet to come.

The climbing begins! The first part of the race is on a wide dirt road, allowing all the runners to disperse at their own paces before the real climbing starts.

An interesting omen along the trail: This is just as the Moore Fun Trail starts, where the race shifts from wide road to singletrack, and the trail changes from dirt to mostly rock.

Switchbacks up the Moore Fun Trail as the sun is still rising.

The views get better as we climb. Here, looking north toward Mack and Fruita...

...and here, looking northwest, our first glimpse of the Colorado River, as the climbing continues.

Scrambling up the rocks, nearing the ridge's crest.

This view of the Colorado River is ample reward for the climb.

The trail winds along the cliff's edge, overlooking the Colorado.

Still more gorgeous views...

As the sun climbs overhead, we continue on the mesa's top, winding between the river and the ridge.

...a bit more climbing...

It was amazing how green this part of western Colorado was this time of year. During our kayak trip along this same section of the river last August, there were many more shades of yellow and brown -- a lot less green!

Climbing out of the first aid station, the trail widens again and moves closer to the river.

A self portrait, climbing. The sun really started to beat down at this point!

I loved all the wild rock formations through this section.

Between miles 8 and 12, the trail has gentle ups and downs, and winds between the river and the ridge. Sometimes the trail veers very close to the edge of some steep drops! These trails are very popular with mountain bikers, but I can't imagine riding my bike along some of these edges...

A breeze rose up from the river when we neared it; it provided some welcome relief from the intense sun.

I loved the rock formations in these canyons.

Around mile 15, climbing this ridge, I stopped taking photos. I was getting really hot, and while I did my best to stay hydrated, the gatorade in my hydration pack was also hot at this point, and didn't do much to cool me off. I pulled off the trail, reapplied sunscreen, put the camera away, and ate another GU.

I hit my low point in the race between miles 17 and 19. The heat was really getting to me, and I was feeling my lack of proper training keenly. I'd also taken a fall at mile 8, and by mile 16 my knee was swelling a lot. I started to feel a little woozy around mile 19 and considered sitting down to cool off, but kept going -- albeit slowly -- knowing an aid station was coming up around mile 19.5.

I hobbled into the aid station with three or four other runners who also looked to be ailing. I crouched in the shade offered by the aid-station canopy as a volunteer added some cold water to my hydration pack. Another volunteer handed me a small paper cup of cola, saying it might help settle my stomach. I drank the cola slowly, savoring its taste and the shade. I overheard other runners talking about dropping, and felt my resolve to finish harden as the cola started to refresh me.

At the start line, hours earlier, another runner who'd done this race before had cautioned "Save yourself for the hill after the 19-mile aid station: it's a killer!" But interestingly, as I left the aid station and headed up the hill, I felt so much better than I'd felt earlier, that the hill, while steep, didn't seem so bad. I had a new spring in my step -- tiny uphill steps -- and although my knee was still bothering me I was mostly able to put it out of my mind.

The climb kept going and going, with a number of false summits: I'd see the runner ahead of me reach what looked like the top, but then realize when I made it there that it was just the beginning of the next climb further ahead. During miles 21 to 23, I tried to just relax and take it one step at a time, alternating running and walking. The terrain here was rolling, with no extreme ups or downs. Along the trail I saw two people on horseback, looking for all the world as if they'd stepped out of an old western -- or perhaps I'd stepped into one!

Finally, at mile 23, the descent began back to the start line. Running downhill, I started to get cramps on my right side. I'd stop and walk, and take deep breaths, and it would feel better... and after running for a while they'd start again. I passed a few runners in this downhill section and gave them some GU and sunscreen (one benefit of wearing a big hydration pack: ample room to carry more supplies than I need!)

Finally the finish line came into view, and with it... my dad! He'd jogged perhaps 1/2 mile out to watch my approach. At this point my GPS read 25.8 miles, and I was definitely ready to be done. I jogged to the finish, tired but happy.

Going into the race, I knew I was not prepared for it, and I got exactly what I deserved: a tough day, baking in the heat and hobbling toward the finish line. Had the scenery not been so spectacular, this might have been a very unpleasant experience! Every race experience, good and bad, offers useful lessons if you're paying attention. Some lessons learned from Desert R.A.T.S. :

Be sure to log plenty of long runs, ideally approximating the terrain you'll be covering on the course. This one is a no-brainer - and I know better - but having spent so much of the early spring being sick, I was so eager to get out on a beautiful trail that I figured I could rely on mental toughness to help me go the distance. I guess in the end it did - I finished - but the experience would certainly have been more fun if my conditioning had been better.
Find a way to keep your water (or whatever you're drinking) cold. When I started to overheat, I kept drinking but it stopped tasting refreshing to me. I might have fared better through the heat after mile 16 had I been downing cool liquids rather than hot.
Core strengthening is so important! I think the right-side cramps that came on toward the end of the race may have been due to my form getting sloppy as I became tired. Had my core been stronger, I might have been able to hold better posture later into the race, and not experienced that awful cramping.
This one is hard to avoid sometimes in a trail race, but I'll offer this lesson anyway: Don't fall! And more specifically, don't fall at mile 8 if you've got another 17 or 18 miles to go! For the first few miles after I fell, my knee didn't really bother me, but starting at mile 16 or so, my knee really swelled a lot, and it got a bit harder to put my full weight on it (this unbalanced gait may well have led to my right-side cramps toward the end, too).

Despite my challenges, I thoroughly enjoyed this race. The scenery is spectacular, the camaraderie of other runners very supportive, and the volunteers wonderful. I highly recommend this scenic and well-organized race.

See you on the trail!

Atop Aconcagua

2010-02-12T22:19:00.001-07:00

An update on Diane Van Deren, climbing Aconcagua with a combined North Face/Mayo Clinic research team: The team summited Tuesday, February 9.

(Summit pic, Van Deren at right, courtesy of the Mayo Clinic)
Congratulations to the whole team! Now come home safely. And see you on the trail!

A Medical Miracle Nears a Milepost

2010-01-20T21:29:00.010-07:00

After a hiatus from blogging, I came upon this follow-up article on Diane Van Deren in the New York Times. Since I've barely logged a blog entry since the first article appeared, I thought this would be a nice way to revive the blog, while passing along a compelling story about a phenomenal trail runner.

Enjoy -- and see you on the trail!

Photograph by Matthew Staver for the New York Times.

Medical Miracle Nears a Milepost
By JOHN BRANCH
Published: January 19, 2010

In the dozen years since brain surgery brought relief from debilitating epileptic seizures, Diane Van Deren has become one of the world’s top endurance runners. She regularly competes in long-distance tests of perseverance, 100 miles or more through wicked terrain and tortuous conditions. She won the 300-mile Yukon Arctic Ultra two years ago, pulling a sled through the depths of winter, and was the first woman to complete the 430-mile version last year.

Preparing for her next adventure, Van Deren, a 49-year-old from Colorado, recently did something she had never attempted.

“It was the first time I’ve ever run on a treadmill,” she said.

Van Deren left for South America on Monday to climb Mount Aconcagua, the highest mountain in the Western Hemisphere — twice. Two things make this trip different from anything she has done.

First, Aconcagua, in Argentina near the Chilean border, is 22,841 feet (6,962 meters), and Van Deren has never climbed higher than 15,000 feet. As part of an expedition with the North Face, Van Deren and about 15 others will embark on a two-week climb. Once back down, Van Deren plans a speed ascent with the well-known mountaineer and Aconcagua climbing veteran Willie Benegas. It would be a 75-mile (120-kilometer) round trip with 18,000 feet in elevation gain. They think it can be done in less than 35 hours.

Second, Van Deren’s body and mind will be continuously monitored by a research team from the Mayo Clinic, using state-of-the-art equipment.

Not only had Van Deren never been on a treadmill — “If I’m an endurance athlete, and sponsored by North Face, I have no excuse why I shouldn’t be able to train outside,” she said — she had only once tried to run with a simple heart monitor, she said.

For someone missing a kiwi-size portion of her right temporal lobe, which disabled much of her memory and organizational skills, a heart monitor was “too much detail,” she said.

“I know my body by feel,” she said during a phone interview from Colorado last week, where she ran ridges between 13,000-foot peaks near Loveland Pass. “I’m so in tune with how I feel and how I need to perform at my best.”

But Dr. Bruce Johnson, a professor of medicine at the Mayo Clinic, wants to know how Van Deren does it. He and several associates will accompany the expedition to the summit the first time, testing Van Deren’s physical and cognitive skills as she fights the effect of altitude. During Van Deren’s speed ascent, the Mayo team will use wireless instruments to monitor a wide range of vital signs.

“We’re not only interested in human performance and the limits of human performance, but we’re interested in how it integrates with environmental issues — altitude, cold, heat,” Johnson said in a phone interview.

Van Deren, profiled in a New York Times article last July, had her first grand mal seizure when she was pregnant with her third child about 20 years ago. For most of a decade, seizures struck unpredictably several times a week. When Van Deren was home in the foothills southwest of Denver and felt one coming, she hurriedly laced her running shoes and ran out the door.

Sometimes she ran for hours. Sometimes she ran through the night. It kept the seizures at bay. Surgery seems to have put an end to them altogether.

“My obstacle now is the brain injury,” she said. “That’s a huge part of my puzzle.”

Most of Van Deren’s brain was not affected by the lobectomy. She is bright and bubbly, seemingly hardwired with enthusiasm and optimism. But inside, she lost many things, including memories of her honeymoon and an ability to find her parked car.

Van Deren finds it difficult to pack for races, read maps or follow directions along a course. But her mind also seems free from the toil of time and distance, and some wonder if the surgery actually helped her run.

In December, Van Deren went to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota for three days of baseline tests for the Aconcagua ascents.

“They threw 35 pounds in a pack, and they had electrodes all over my body, and I had a sealed mouthpiece and my nose was pinched, and I had to go on, I think, a 15 percent grade on the treadmill,” Van Deren said of the hardest test. “And I had to go as long and as far and as hard as I could for an hour.”

It was just one part of a battery of tests to see how Van Deren would respond to various conditions.

Her maximal oxygen uptake, one way to measure fitness level, Johnson said, was about twice the average for a woman her age. She could sustain heart rates of 97 percent of her maximum for long periods. Her lung surface area is about one and a half times the average size. Her muscle efficiency was much better than normal. Her “peak aerobic capacity,” Johnson said, is well above what would be normal for a 20-year-old, never mind someone about to turn 50.

“My guess is that she’ll do a lot better than we will,” Johnson said of the Aconcagua trek, with a laugh. “My only worry is trying to keep up with her to do some of our monitoring.”

Van Deren will wear a strap around her chest to track heart rate, respiration rate, temperature, oxygen saturation and other signs. A finger probe will track heart rate and oxygen saturation, too, as she sleeps. An armband will measure motion, her number of steps and estimate physical activity. A machine will occasionally measure oxygen consumption and carbon dioxide production. Cognitive testing will gauge the effect of altitude on her mind, too.

“She’s a proven entity in extreme environments,” Johnson said. “She can run continuously for 10 to 12 days, with intermittent catnaps and extreme cold, and so the only real question is how she handles the altitude. And she’s probably trained for it about as good as you can. So I think she’ll do phenomenally well.”

Still, among the nervous is Dr. Don Gerber, a clinical neuropsychologist at Craig Hospital, a neurological rehabilitation hospital in Englewood, Colo.

Van Deren calls Gerber her coach, the man who trains her mentally for the adventures. Gerber helps her organize and set strategy. He has her put several copies of route instructions in different pockets and compartments, for example.

In the case of Aconcagua, Gerber — despite coordinating the cognitive testing part of the research — tried to talk Van Deren out of going.

“My concern is the altitude, and the effects of high altitude on her,” he said.

“I don’t know anyone with her kind of surgery and medical history who has attempted anything like this.”

Van Deren is not the type to be stopped. During a dinner near Lake Tahoe last year with North Face executives, she learned that Jacob Uhland, the company’s director of Latin America, was organizing a trip up Aconcagua for about 10 South American managers.

“Diane said: ‘Wait, I want in on this. Can I come?’ ” Uhland said.

Sure she could. She could go up Aconcagua twice if she wanted, maybe even try to set a speed record.

Running in Good Company

2009-11-26T13:00:00.010-07:00

It's Thanksgiving, and on this Thanksgiving Day, I am grateful for two new running partners in my life: Jasper and Argos (or "Gus" for short).

I went looking for a four-legged running partner some months ago, but finding the right fit with our existing pack was a bit of a challenge. Through Animal House, I met and ran with one pup for a while, but she proved a not-so-great companion for our eldest pup, Mel. I then met another lovely, sweet pup - but despite being very sweet, she did not seem to enjoy running much when I interspersed a few short bouts of running into our walk.

And then - all at once - not one, but TWO perfect running pups emerged: Argos and Jasper.

Jasper, a pit-bull mix, was rescued as a young pup from the streets of Denver -- a town whose breed ban means that many dogs like Jasper are routinely euthanized. Jasper was quick to trot alongside me when I broke into a run on our walk, and on our visit to his foster mom Colleen's house, he literally crawled into my lap before I was even sitting down! We liked that despite his youth and high energy level, he could also be very calm and mellow. He seemed like the perfect dog for us.

But then there was also Argos, or "Gus," a black and white terrier mix who had been picked up months earlier, roaming the prairies of Wyoming. Skittish in human company, Gus ducked to avoid my hand when I first tried to pet him, and it was clear that he'd need some time to come out of his shell. But it was also clear that this pup loved to run. Andrea and Sarah, his foster mommies, both are runners -- Sarah an ultramarathoner. Though Gus was hesitant standing around with people, as soon as I picked up the pace on our first meeting, his spine straightened, his head lifted, and his confidence emerged. For me, it was love at first sight.

We struggled to decide which of these fantastic pups would become my running partner -- and ultimately adopted both. Animal House was so helpful throughout the process, patient with us as we found the perfect match for our family and our lifestyle. Jasper and Argos' foster moms gave us valuable information and helped our pups settle in seamlessly.

So today, I find myself running with two new friends. We don't know each other well - at least not yet. But this Thanksgiving day I'm thankful for all the people who helped bring my new 10-legged "running team" together. See you on the trail!

More Evidence Running Helps Joint Health

2009-08-11T21:14:00.007-06:00

Frequent readers of this blog know that I can't stand the doomsayers who tell runners that their running is going to ruin their joints. (This unsolicited advice is particularly unwelcome when it comes from the lips of someone who is clearly inactive, and likely endangering his or her own joints by overloading them through obesity. But that's another issue.) Some months ago, I blogged about a number of studies indicating that in fact running can make your joints more healthy.

Today, still more evidence has surfaced indicating that running is good for your joints. So read on, and ignore the killjoys who tell you to stop running! As Dr. Chakravarty, a contributor to one of these studies, wrote: “What struck me is that the runners we studied were still running, well into their 70s and 80s. They weren’t running far. They weren’t running frequently. They averaged perhaps 90 minutes a week. But they were still running.”

So keep it up... and see you on the trail!

The New York Times, August 11, 2009, 11:59 AM
Phys Ed: Can Running Actually Help Your Knees?
By GRETCHEN REYNOLDS

An article in Skeletal Radiology, a well-respected journal, created something of a sensation in Europe last year. It reported that researchers from Danube Hospital in Austria examined the knees of marathon runners using M.R.I. imaging, before and after the 1997 Vienna marathon. Ten years later, they scanned the same runners’ knees again. The results were striking. “No major new internal damage in the knee joints of marathon runners was found after a 10-year interval,” the researchers reported. Only one of the participants had a knee that was truly a mess, and he’d quit running before the 1997 marathon (but had been included in that study anyway). His 1997 knee M.R.I. revealed cartilage lesions, swelling and other abnormalities. In the years that followed, the knee became worse, showing augmented tissue damage and more serious lesions. His exam prompted the researchers to wonder whether he would have been better off persisting as a runner, because, as they speculate, “continuous exercise is protective, rather than destructive,” to knees.

You can’t be a runner past the age of 40, as I am, without hearing that running will ruin your knees, by which doomsayers usually mean that we’ll develop “degeneration of the cartilage in the kneecap, which reduces its shock-absorbing capacity,” says Ross Tucker, a physiologist in South Africa and co-author of the new book “The Runner’s Body: How the Latest Exercise Science Can Help You Run Stronger, Longer and Faster.” In other words, we’ll be afflicted with arthritis.

It’s not an unreasonable supposition; other sports have been linked with early-onset arthritis in knees. In a British study, almost half of the middle-aged, formerly elite soccer players were found to have crippling, bone-on-bone arthritis in at least one knee. Former weight lifters also have a high incidence of the condition, as do retired N.F.L. players.

But despite entrenched mythology to the contrary, runners don’t seem prone to degenerating knees. An important 2008 study, this one from Stanford University, followed middle-aged, longtime distance runners (not necessarily marathoners) for nearly 20 years, beginning in 1984, when most were in their 50s or 60s. At that time, 6.7 percent of the runners had creaky, mildly arthritic knees, while none of an age-matched control group did. After 20 years, however, the runners’ knees were healthier; only 20 percent showed arthritic changes, versus 32 percent of the control group’s knees. Barely 2 percent of the runners’ knees were severely arthritic, while almost 10 percent of the control group’s were. “We were quite surprised,” says Eliza Chakravarty, an assistant professor at the Stanford University School of Medicine and lead author of the study. “Our hypothesis going in had been that runners, because of the repetitive pounding, would develop more frequent and more severe arthritis.”

Instead, recent evidence suggests that running may actually shield somewhat against arthritis, in part because the knee develops a kind of motion groove. A group of engineers and doctors at Stanford published a study in the February issue of The Journal of Bone and Joint Surgery that showed that by moving and loading your knee joint, as you do when walking or running, you “condition” your cartilage to the load. It grows accustomed to those particular movements. You can run for miles, decades, a lifetime, without harming it. But if this exquisite balance is disturbed, usually by an injury, the loading mechanisms shift, the moving parts of the knee are no longer in their accustomed alignment and a “degenerative pathway” seems to open. The cartilage, like an unbalanced tire, wears away. Pain, tissue disintegration and, eventually, arthritis can follow.

So, the best way to ensure that your knees aren’t hurt by running is not to hurt them in the first place. “The biggest predictor of injury is previous injury,” Tucker says, and one of the best deterrents against a first (or subsequent) knee injury is targeted strength training. “The hip stabilizers, quads, hamstrings and core must all be strong enough. As soon as there is weakness, some other muscle or joint must take over, and that’s when injuries happen.”

If you’ve injured your knee in the past, particularly if you’ve ever torn an A.C.L. (an injury that, in the Stanford gait study, was closely associated with misalignment and cartilage degeneration), talk to your physician before running. But for most runners, the scientific observations of Chakravarty will ring true. “What struck me,” she says, “is that the runners we studied were still running, well into their 70s and 80s.” They weren’t running far, she says. They weren’t running frequently. They averaged perhaps 90 minutes a week. “But they were still running.”

Brain Surgery Frees Runner, But Raises Barriers

2009-07-08T08:20:00.011-06:00

This morning's New York Times brought one of the most inspiring runner stories I've read in a long time. Read on, enjoy, and see you on the trail!

Photographs by Matthew Staver for the New York Times.

Brain Surgery Frees Runner, but Raises Barriers
By JOHN BRANCH
Published: July 8, 2009
SEDALIA, Colo. — In the middle of the night, Diane Van Deren will leave her house against the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. She will cut west through the dark canyons with her running shoes and a headlamp, but without a kiwi-sized part of her right temporal lobe.

She used to run away from epileptic seizures. Since brain surgery, she just runs, uninhibited by the drudgery of time and distance, undeterred by an inability to remember exactly where she is going or how to get back.

“It used to be, call for help if Mom’s not back in five hours,” Van Deren said. She laughed. “That rule has been stretched. I’ve got a 24-hour window now. Isn’t that sad?”

Van Deren, 49, had a lobectomy in 1997. She has become one of the world’s great ultra-runners, competing in races of attrition measuring 100 miles or more. She won last year’s Yukon Arctic Ultra 300, a trek against frigid cold, deep snow and loneliness, and was the first woman to complete the 430-mile version this year.

This weekend she will run in the Hardrock 100 in Silverton, Colo. It has a total elevation gain of 33,000 feet and crosses the top of 14,048-foot Handies Peak. About 150 people will enter. About half will not finish the 100 miles within the allotted 48 hours.

For some, it will be the challenge of a lifetime. Van Deren does several such races every summer. She supplements the calendar with competitions around the world, some in the dead of winter.

On early-morning training runs, especially when pulling a sled with 60 pounds of sand through the snow, Van Deren sometimes startles hikers. They do not see under her blond hair, above her right ear, where an uneven crease maps where her skull was put back together.

They just see a smiling woman who appeared from nowhere — and someone who just might need help getting pointed in the right direction.

“When she is running, it helps her,” Don Gerber, a clinical neuropsychologist who has worked extensively with Van Deren, said of the hole in Van Deren’s brain. “In the rest of her life, it does not.”

Race preparation is the hardest. Not the training, which Van Deren does eagerly, but the packing. In stopping the seizures, her mind, otherwise sharp and unaffected, was robbed of part of its memory and organizational skills.

Her dining room table is covered with gear. She divides it into carefully marked bags that will await her at various aid stations, sometimes 40 miles apart, along the next course. Which bag needs a headlamp? Sunblock? Extra outerwear?

Van Deren can no longer read maps. Telling her to go five miles, turn left, then right, then left is a confusing algorithm. She rarely runs a race without a wrong turn. “Everyone knows not to follow me now,” she said.

Gerber, who works at Craig Hospital, a rehabilitation hospital in Englewood, Colo., for people with brain or spinal-cord injuries, said that Van Deren “can go hours and hours and have no idea how long it’s been.” Her mind carries little dread for how far she is from the finish. She does not track her pace, even in training. Her gauge is the sound of her feet on the trail.

“It’s a kinesthetic melody that she hits,” Gerber said. “And when she hits it, she knows she’s running well.”

Her family and friends offer full support. Still, they worry.

“I’m just terrified we’re going to lose her,” said Barb Page, executive director of the Craig Hospital Foundation.

Running was always the self-prescribed antidote to seizures. When Van Deren felt an aura, a tingling sensation that signaled an upcoming seizure, she would lace her running shoes and go out the door. She never had a seizure while running.

Born Diane Kobs, she was a stellar multisport athlete who became a touring professional tennis player, unaware of her future bout with epilepsy. She married Scott Van Deren, taught tennis and dabbled in distance running.

Pregnant with the couple’s third child (Matt, now 19), Van Deren had what seemed an out-of-nowhere grand mal seizure. Then another.

Tests found a black mark on her brain, a scar of sorts, traced to an unexplained seizure that Van Deren had at 16 months. Like a burst dam, epileptic seizures flooded her life, three to five times per week.

For nearly a decade she worried when the next would strike. When Scott was at work? While driving?

Surgery to remove the part of the brain where seizures originate is sometimes possible, if the source is a concentrated spot. Van Deren’s head was tethered to electrodes. When she later saw the videotape of her next seizure, she witnessed what family and friends saw countless times: a rigid woman convulsing uncontrollably. Eyes rolled back. Blood dribbled from her mouth.

It was horrifying. And illuminating.

“I always thought epilepsy was my problem,” Van Deren said. “It wasn’t.”

She was eligible for surgery. She did not hesitate. She has not had a seizure since.

The surgery was not without costs. Van Deren struggles to remember people she recently met and has missed flights simply by getting too involved in a conversation at the gate.

“She never remembers where she parked,” Page said. “Never, not once, to this day.”

The lapses are not always amusing. Her husband placed photo collages around the house to help his wife remember vacations and family milestones that slipped past her memory’s reach. Robin Van Deren, the 21-year-old middle child, recently told her mother that she lost a part of her in the surgery. They cried together.

About seven years ago, Van Deren looked for help. She was teamed with Gerber.

He has taught her coping tricks to keep life organized, from placing the keys in the same spot every time to marking trail forks with a rock or stick, just in case she has to go back.

For someone who could not take a bath 12 years ago for fear of drowning from a seizure, every fork is just another challenge, happily accepted. That is why the text messages and e-mails from Van Deren so often come at about 3 in the morning, saying she is about to leave the house, maybe run up Pikes Peak.

They are usually sent from a BlackBerry that her children have taught her to use. And they are usually filled with lots of exclamation points.

Pilot Hill 25k

2009-05-31T19:22:00.004-06:00

Looking for a small-scale, low-key trail race where all runners are made to feel right at home? Have I got a race for you! The Pilot Hill 25k, held outside the town of Laramie, Wyoming, is the oldest footrace in the state. Old-west scenery of rolling prairie backed up by Rocky Mountain views characterizes the route.

The race starts on pavement - but once you're over the first hill, it's trails all the way. The course winds around some hilly grassland before twisting up and over limestone outcroppings and through a small canyon. The water stops are casual and friendly - a pickup truck or two with a jug for water and another for Gatorade. That's me in the turquoise top to the far left of the photo, starting toward the back. Don't want to get run over by Nick Clark or trip up Michael Huntington!

Brian Martisius and Patrick Eastman run toward the middle aid station at a blistering pace.
Coming into the middle aid station, the climb begins - first up a wooded hill, then a series of switchbacks to the top, where a number of large antennae (and another aid station) await. The climb, which seemed endless on the way up, now flies by on the way down.

Jonathon Zeif descending back into the middle aid station.
Coming down from the hill, the course retraces many of the same trails from the way up. The final hill back toward the start (and now the finish) line seemed a lot steeper coming up than when we'd blasted down it when the starting whistle blew. But the finish-line crowd rallies all runners 'til they've crossed the line. The front runners hang around to watch the rest of us mortals squeak past the finish, and in a race this small, you may even win a prize! I was the proud recipient of a Pilot Hill beer glass this year, the prize for 3rd female in my age group.

Thank you, High Plains Harriers! And see you next year.

Greenland Trail 50k (& 25k)

2009-05-10T18:37:00.001-06:00

It felt good to stretch my legs on the first Colorado trail race I've run since moving back to my home state last year. The 25k at the Greenland Open Space on Saturday was not the most scenic race I've ever run, but early in the summer it represented a great opportunity to get out onto some dry trails and run alongside other trail runners.

The weather was sunny and dry -- and very, very windy! The wind was the most challenging part of the race. I actually kept my jacket on for the whole race because of the wind's icy bite.

The course begins on the Old Territorial Road, a wide trail that parallels an active railroad line. A few trains going by added a nice distraction as we got our legs pumping. The wide trail allowed for runners to distribute themselves along the course and stick to their preferred pace: 8-milers sprinting, 50k-ers settling into a carefully-measured trot, and 25k-ers somewhere in between. The first 3 1/2 miles are a very gradual uphill rise, but feel fairly flat. This part of the trail is mostly grassland, with few trees. Mountain views emerge toward the south and west.

At around mile 3.5, the course turns left onto the Kipps Loop and climbs fairly consistently for the next mile and a half. The summit (approx. 7,400 feet elevation) is at mile 5. While this hill on the Kipps Loop is fairly steep, the wooded hill makes up for it; I saw a lot of birds and a few deer in this stretch of the race.

Three straight miles of downhill running follow the summit, at which point the 25k and 50k runners turn around and do the loop again, while the 8-milers race to the finish. After this second loop, the 25k-ers finish, and the 50k-ers do the loop a total of four times. I did the 25k on Saturday, and was happy to be done with the course after two loops. It's not that the course is particularly challenging -- I believe, in fact, that it could be a nice first ultra for someone attempting 50k for the first time -- but I'm someone who runs trails to "get away," to feel like I'm discovering a wild place, and this course just didn't do it for me.

The race was well organized and it was fun to meet trail runners from a variety of Colorado locales, but having run at Greenland once, I doubt I'll be a repeat runner.

See you on the trail!

Blue Skies and Red Rocks at Coyote Ridge

2009-03-02T17:29:00.000-07:00

Sunday afternoon I decided to break from my usual Pineridge routine and run down to the Devil's Backbone Open Space from the Coyote Ridge trailhead. I was amazed at how crowded the trails were for the first two miles, but after cresting over the first ridge, the trails quieted down and I was able to savor the blue skies and red rocks along the ridges. I took a few photos - enjoy. And see you on the trail!

Clicking on any image will bring up a larger version to view.

Carpenter at 44: Still Master of the Ascent

2009-02-25T07:12:00.002-07:00

I was pleased to see this fantastic profile of Matt Carpenter in the New York Times on Monday. Carpenter, one of our local Colorado runners, has long been associated with the Pikes Peak-area Incline Club and among his many running accomplishments, his records for the Pikes Peak Ascent & Pikes Peak Marathon still stand. Enjoy -- and see you on the trail!!

Photograph by Kevin Moloney for the New York Times.

At 44, a Running Career Again in Ascent
By Michael Brick
Published: February 23, 2009
MANITOU SPRINGS, Colo. — The course follows old Ute tribe trails 20 miles up, down and around Pikes Peak, a narrow, gravelly passage rising 7,815 feet to crest 14,110 feet above sea level. Tourists with respiratory ailments are cautioned against making such an ascent, even by car. Motorists on nearby roads are advised to employ manual transmission. Promotional materials for the summit warn of altitude sickness, lightning, hypothermia, rattlesnakes and wild animals carrying bubonic plague.

Matt Carpenter expected to run it in about three hours.

At 44, Carpenter is known as the grand paladin of high-altitude distance running. In 1993, he set record times — still standing — for the 13.3-mile Pikes Peak Ascent and the Pikes Peak Marathon, races he won again in 2001 and 2007, both times on consecutive days. He has also set speed marks in a high-altitude flat-surface marathon, a 50-mile race and a 100-mile race.

In 2002, after his marriage, the loss of his sponsorship and the birth of his daughter, Carpenter was considered a champion in eclipse. Nearing his 39th birthday, he won only the familiar Pikes Peak Ascent, with a time 22 minutes behind his own record, and placed 33rd at another mountain race.

But as the milestones of fleeting youth have given way to the slipstream of middle age, Carpenter has returned to form. Last year, he won six long-distance races, setting two course records. And he is training for the Teva Mountain Games in June in Vail, Colo.

“Whenever we race, I know it’s going to be a good competition — unless it’s at high altitude, and then I don’t stand a chance,” said Uli Steidl, 36, who placed second behind Carpenter at a 50-mile race in San Francisco in December.

In part, Carpenter has owed his prowess to his physiology. His resting heart rate has been measured at 33 beats a minute, lower than those of Michael Phelps and many astronauts. In a test at the United States Olympic training center in Colorado Springs, Carpenter’s VO2 max, a gauge of the body’s ability to process oxygen, registered at 90.2, perhaps a record high for a runner. (Only Bjorn Daehlie, a Norwegian cross-country skier, has scored higher. Lance Armstrong recorded an 81.)

Still, cardiorespiratory capacity can take an athlete only so far. Carpenter runs at least three hours every other day. On alternate days — rest days, he calls them — he runs an hour and a half. Though weather seldom impedes him, he owns a $10,000 220-volt treadmill with three motors capable of providing an impossible pace of 3 minutes 20 seconds a mile on a 27 percent grade. And he lives here, at the base of Pikes Peak.

No rigorous antidoping program exists in high-altitude trail running, primarily because such an effort would be prohibitively expensive. Carpenter has never been publicly accused of doping; he said he has never taken performance-enhancing drugs and was happy to be tested any time.

“He trains as hard as he needs to win, and then he’ll do a little more,” said Nancy Hobbs, the executive director of the American Trail Running Association.

A stick figure at 5 feet 7 inches and 122 pounds, with pinched features and bright blue eyes, Carpenter wears a mop of unkempt hair that gives him the appearance of a sideman for a rock band reunion tour.

Born in Asheville, N.C., he moved from state to state with his mother, who was divorced, sickly and struggling to hold down work, he said. By his account, he spent his childhood in rabid pursuit of arbitrary goals. Whole days were given to throwing a tennis ball against a wall. He once held his breath underwater until he blacked out. In high school, a class schedule conflict deposited him on the cross-country team.

“I actually thought we were going to run across the country,” Carpenter said. “I thought we’d get out of school a lot.”

As a teenager, Carpenter learned that the man he had believed to be his father was actually his adoptive stepfather. In his freshman year of college, his mother committed suicide. For years, he dreamed of his biological father, who eventually tracked him down through his running career.

“I’d always made him whatever I wanted to be,” Carpenter said of his father. “If I felt poor, I made him a rich guy. If I needed an athlete, I made him a fast runner.”

Carpenter did not find his stride as an athlete until his mid-20s. In 1989, he left a computing job to focus on running. He won 7 of his first 14 races. Two of them had the word “climb” in their name; a third, the Pikes Peak Marathon, did not need to.

In 1993, an Italian group called the Skyrunners recruited Carpenter to run a marathon on a high-altitude flat course in the Himalayas. He spent the next seven years traveling the world for Fila. The company cast a mold of his feet for custom shoes.

“They’d point to a mountain, and we’d run up it,” Carpenter said. “I felt with every race that somebody was trying to beat me and take away my sponsorship.”

Though he found relatively little success on traditional courses, placing 42nd at the Boston Marathon in 1995, Carpenter won 15 of the 17 high-altitude marathons he entered in the next seven years. He founded a group called the Incline Club, leading weekly training runs around Pikes Peak. He married a member, Yvonne Franceschini, in a ceremony on one of the group’s outings. The newlyweds tied cans to their backs and ran home.

Every Sunday, Carpenter has returned to lead the club’s training runs, proselytizing local joggers with his training philosophy: “Go out hard; when it hurts, speed up.”

In 2000, Fila dropped the Skyrunners program, said Lauren Mallon, a spokeswoman for the company. On July 9, 2002, to celebrate the birth of his daughter, Kyla, Carpenter ended a streak of running on consecutive days for 5 years 57 days. He stopped doing his sit-ups, took shortcuts, slept poorly and started losing races.

“Somebody told me you don’t know who you are until you do a 100-miler,” Carpenter said. “I said, ‘Damned if I’m going to die and not know who I am.’ ”

So Carpenter started lifting weights. He strengthened his core muscles. He enlisted his wife and daughter as crew members. Soon, family life turned into something resembling the “Gonna Fly Now” montage, only with more running.

In August 2004, Carpenter entered the Leadville Trail 100, known as the Race Across the Sky. Partway through, his quadriceps gave out. Sometime after midnight, walking the last 30 miles with his knees locked up in the manner of Dr. Frankenstein’s monster, Carpenter finished in 14th place.

A year later, Carpenter returned to beat his own time by seven hours, win the race and break the course record by 93 minutes. Since 2005, he has won 13 more distance races, including a 50-miler. No one has beaten him in the marathon on Pikes Peak.

“A lot of people say you want to quit at the top of your game, but I don’t want to quit at the top,” Carpenter said. “I want to know where the edge is, and I want to know when it’s going to stop, and if I slow down and drag out running, so be it.

“At this point, I like that fine line of balancing right between injury and not injury, seeing what I can get out of my body. Sometimes I lie in bed at night and wonder if I’ve done all I can, and if I haven’t, I go out at night and do more.”

Just after dawn one Sunday last month, as a light snowfall prettied the old town square, Carpenter led a group of runners past buildings here with names that seemed to taunt: the Iron Springs Chateau Melodrama, a dinner theater; and Our Lady of Perpetual Help, a church. The group made a sharp right turn at the outskirts of town, climbing into the mountains.

Here, snow-muddled conifers canopied the trail like some desert Sleepy Hollow. The runners trudged upward, ignoring the bitter cold, the twilit vistas, the call of some distant wild thing attacking its breakfast. Three hours later, breathing steadily, Carpenter quizzed his charges, climbed into his sport-utility vehicle, and set off to fix a peanut butter sandwich.

“It’s neat,” he said, “to see all these other people develop a passion.”

Pineridge In Winter

2009-01-23T16:07:00.001-07:00

I sometimes struggle to get myself outside for a run when it's cold and dark. Winter can pose a challenge for any runner who wants to stay on top of her mileage, but for this runner in particular, who thrives on a steady diet of sunshine, winter can be a daily struggle to get in the miles.

But then, along comes a day like today. High on a recently-submitted grant proposal (I'll take a thrill wherever I can get it!) I headed out into the sparkle of freshly-fallen snow. This, then, was my reward for braving the cold.

Enjoy these photos of the Pineridge Open Space, about three blocks from my house. I managed to snap a few pics before the camera batteries got too cold & stopped working.

Cheers, everyone -- and have a good weekend! See you on the trail.

The Best Birthday Present Ever

2008-12-12T08:17:00.000-07:00

Have you ever watched the Olympic Games, or a big-city marathon on television, and wondered what it would be like to run with one of the elite runners who dashes by -- or maybe a Kenyan 10k champion like Richard Kiplagat? Well, Michael Chambers of New York got to live out that fantasy yesterday when his wife paid Kiplagat $400 to go for a run with him on his birthday.

The article got me thinking about who my fantasy birthday runner would be. As a trail runner, I think my fantasy run would be with someone from the Tarahumara people, or perhaps mountain runner Rick Trujillo, recently profiled in Runner's World. Bernie Boettcher would probably be a fun trail companion - although I'm nowhere near as fast as he is, I often recognize myself when I read his column in Trail Runner Magazine.

In any case, I thought this was a very cool birthday present, and thought I'd share it with you.

See you on the trail!

Both photographs by Yana Paskova for the New York Times.

A Moving Birthday Gift
By JOHN BRANCH
Published: December 11, 2008
For an avid runner, perhaps a synthetic running shirt would be a welcome gift. Maybe a heart-rate monitor, or an iPod. But for a truly one-of-a-kind gift, nothing could beat what Michael Chambers received for his 40th birthday on Thursday: a world-class runner from Kenya for a day.

“What a birthday present,” a stunned Chambers said as Richard Kiplagat, 27, entered his SoHo apartment, ready to run.

It was like a take-home fantasy camp, akin to hiring a Brazilian soccer star to kick the ball around in the backyard, or a Chinese table-tennis champion to play a few games in the basement.

Kiplagat was paid $400 to run with Chambers and have lunch with his family. A driver in a Lincoln Town Car picked him up at dawn at his home in New Milford, N.J., and returned him late in the afternoon.

“When it comes to running, I’m always ready to do it,” said Kiplagat, wearing New Balance clothes and shoes and an effervescent smile that seemingly comes without a dim switch.

He admitted to being surprised when his manager called last week, saying an odd request had been made through the New York Road Runners: someone wanted to hire a Kenyan runner. Kiplagat, a former 10-time All-American distance runner at Iona who is now one of the top road racers in the world, splits time between the United States and his home in Marakwet, Kenya. He did not hesitate to say yes.

“I said, ‘Wow, it’s unusual to do something like this,’ ” Kiplagat said. “Especially for a Kenyan.”

It is unusual for anyone, even a wealthy New Yorker. Chambers runs about 40 or 50 miles each week and has completed three marathons, including the New York City Marathon last month. He finished in 4 hours 8 minutes after reaching the 20-mile mark in three hours.

“The last six miles were just awful,” Chambers said.

About 8:30 a.m. Thursday, he was about to embark on his daily run when his wife, Tina, stopped him. She wanted to present a birthday gift from her and Michael’s parents, Ray and Patricia Chambers. They attended lunch with Kiplagat later in the day.

Ray Chambers is a former part-owner of the Nets, the Devils and the Yankees, and a long-time philanthropist. He now serves as a United Nations envoy for the fight against malaria.

Michael Chambers, an investor in various Web and media companies, and his wife have made a habit of inventive, if expensive, gift-giving. The two took a trip to Africa in 2000. A couple of years later, he had a wing of a school built in her name in Tanzania. Last year, he adopted an elephant in her name through a wildlife federation.

Chambers had become enamored with the strength of the Kenyan runners, and the stories of poverty and perseverance behind them. He recently read Toby Tanser’s book More Fire: How to Run the Kenyan Way.

Tina Chambers presented her husband a DVD of “Marathon Man,” the 1976 movie starring Dustin Hoffman; a compass; and an atlas marked to the page for Kenya. And there was a folder. The front page read: “Happy birthday, baby. Let’s go to Kenya and run with the Kenyans.”

The folder included information about a training center in Iten, Kenya, run by Lornah Kiplagat — a world-record holder in several distances, and Kiplagat’s older sister. A trip to the center in February is the main part of the birthday present.

But the family wanted to give Chambers something to experience on his actual birthday. A call was placed to the New York Road Runners about two weeks ago. The request was a first, and it was specific.

“No knock on Ethiopians, who have been amazing,” Tina Chambers said. “But to find Richard, it couldn’t get better.”

Sam Grotewold, manager of professional athletes for the Road Runners, made the connection with Kiplagat’s manager. Kiplagat was game. Not having a precedent for such a gift, they decided on the rather arbitrary figure of $400. The Chambers family said yes.

When the surprise was revealed, Kipligat and Chambers posed for pictures — Tina had hired a photographer — and stepped out into the cold drizzle on Greene Street. They walked up to Prince Street and jogged west. Side by side, talking mostly about the differences between life in the United States and life in Kenya, they ran north through Hudson River Park, turning back after a few miles.

They ran eight miles, at a sturdy 7-minute-per-mile pace. It was quick for Chambers, but Kiplagat usually trains by running 10 or more miles at a 5:45-per-mile pace.

“We’re back,” Chambers said as the two entered the apartment again. “I won.”

Chambers was drenched in rain and sweat. Kiplagat looked as if he had done little more than climb a flight of stairs.

“I was pushing him a little bit,” Kiplagat said. “I wanted to see how fast he was. I was listening to his breathing. He was not breathing as hard as I thought. He looked very strong.”

Chambers noted just how quietly Kiplagat moves. His breath and his footsteps never got heavy, he said.

“It’s literally like running next to a cheetah,” Chambers aid.

The conversation in the apartment turned to Kenya and Kiplagat’s childhood, which involved running five miles to and from school in bare feet. With Michael and Tina Chambers in another room preparing to go to lunch, Kiplagat ran his bare toes through a lush shag rug.

“Wow,” he said. “It’s the American dream.”

A Heart Attack, or a Long Run? Blood Tests May Confuse the Two

2008-12-01T07:45:00.000-07:00

Photograph by Filip Kwiatkowski for the New York Times.

A fascinating article that appeared in the New York Times a few days ago indicates a medical curiosity that runners should learn more about in order to avoid misleading lab tests. Apparently, it's possible for the body to retain higher-than-usual levels of a heart protein, troponin, for up to 24 hours after vigorous exercise - and sometimes longer. This could falsely indicate a heart attack, and potentially lead to unnecessary medical interventions and wasted medical expenses.

Bottom line: Whenever possible, wait 24 hours after exercising to have blood tests, and if the tests show a higher level of troponin, make sure your doctor knows you're a runner!

Read on below... and see you on the trail!

From the New York Times:The Lab Says Heart Attack, but the Patient Is Fine

By Gina Kolata
Published: November 26, 2008

The man was 40 years old and seemed perfectly healthy — he had just run a 10-kilometer race. But he fainted after the race and was rushed to a hospital. There, in the emergency room, his blood was tested. His levels of a heart protein, troponin, were sky-high. It looked as if he was having a heart attack.

The runner ended up in the coronary intensive care unit at Hadassah-Hebrew University Medical Center in Jerusalem. He was in the hospital for four days, undergoing test after test. Yet nothing appeared to be wrong, his doctors — Lior Tolkin, Beth Goldstein and David Rott — report in a recent issue of Cardiology. He had no other symptoms of a heart attack; every test of his heart’s function was normal. And his soaring troponin levels, which can be an indicator of heart muscle damage, went down to normal.

A false alarm or a heart attack averted or maybe a lab error? Researchers say the most likely explanation is that the man had been caught up in a poorly understood but surprisingly common phenomenon: blood tested shortly after a long or strenuous bout of exercise is likely to show abnormalities, maybe even indicators of a heart attack or liver failure. But usually the patient is not in danger. Instead, those results are normal and are not a reason for concern.

While it is unusual to find such effects after a race as short as 10 kilometers, researchers say they are well aware of the general problem.

“I can tell you several stories like that,” said Dr. Fred Apple, a professor of laboratory medicine and pathology at the University of Minnesota School of Medicine.

In one, in fact, he is the center of the story.

Dr. Apple likes to experiment on himself, so one day, when he was a medical resident at Washington University in St. Louis, he drew his own blood and sent it to the hospital lab for routine tests.

The next thing he knew, he was being paged and escorted to the coronary intensive care unit. His blood test results were terrifying, with levels of an enzyme, creatine kinase MB, 10 times higher than normal. Like the runner in Israel, it looked as if Dr. Apple was having a heart attack.

His heart was fine. But Dr. Apple had just gone for a long run (he was running 50 to 60 miles a week in those days).

That experience, in the 1980s, made Dr. Apple curious about lab tests after strenuous exercise, and led him to systematically study the problem, documenting the exercise effect.

“I’d say that 5 percent of people who stress their bodies with exercise could bump up some of these levels above the level that signals a heart attack,” Dr. Apple said.

To avoid false alarms, he suggests that patients avoid lab tests within 24 hours of exercise. If not, he said, “you are asking for abnormalities to be detected.”

Dr. Malissa Wood, a cardiologist at the Massachusetts General Hospital who is a marathon runner, goes further. “I think it’s a really bad idea to have blood work unless something is wrong,” she said.

Dr. Wood and her colleagues have studied runners in the Boston Marathon, testing their blood before and after the race for proteins that can indicate a stroke risk or a heart attack.

“Almost everything we looked at went up,” she said.

And it may not take hours of exercise to do it.

Rob Shave and his colleagues at Brunel University in England recently reported in the Journal of the American College of Cardiology on nine young men who ran a marathon distance on a treadmill. The researchers took blood samples from the men every 30 minutes while they ran and periodically for 24 hours afterward. All had marked increases in troponin within one to two hours after they started running. Everyone’s troponin levels fell within an hour after the run, but in eight of the runners the protein’s levels rose again over the next hours, and five runners had elevated levels 24 hours later.

Yet, Dr. Wood noted, this study involved healthy people. They were not having heart attacks. “Their hearts were fine,” she said.

It is not known for sure why exercise can elicit such strange lab results, researchers say. But part of the explanation is thought to be immune system responses involving inflammation, and part is thought to be effects of temporary skeletal muscle injury.

For example, some studies biopsied the muscles of runners before and after marathons. After the race, muscle fibers were broken and dying. But skeletal muscle is very different from heart muscle. When heart muscle dies in a heart attack, it never regenerates. Skeletal muscle does. Within four days, those runners had repaired their skeletal muscle, growing new muscle fibers to replace the ones that had died.

An echocardiogram also might be misleading. Vigorous exercise can bring on transient abnormalities in the functioning of the left ventricle.

Further complicating the picture is the huge variation from person to person.

“Everyone responds differently,” Dr. Apple said. “Each person is their own little experiment.”

Enzyme levels also soar in people with larger muscles, men as compared with women, blacks as compared with whites. Enzyme levels in a black man after a marathon can be twice as high as those in a white woman, Dr. Apple said.

“I’ll often get a call from a clinic,” asking about lab test results for a black man who recently raced, Dr. Apple said. “I’ll say, ‘That’s normal for a black man.’ ”

Dr. Wood said that athletes and doctors should be wary of blood tests that seem at odds with clinical findings. All too often athletes end up in emergency rooms after races because they are breathing hard or they fainted or their chests hurt (typically because their stomachs are upset). Often, she added, those athletes are just fine.

“We recognize that after a long-distance endurance event the body is going through some sort of adjustment,” Dr. Wood said. “Most of it is a blip on the radar screen.”

Blue Sky in Autumn

2008-11-20T08:18:00.001-07:00

Last weekend, my long run took me along the length of the Blue Sky Trail, just outside Fort Collins. The waning autumn light led me to snap a few photos, which I'll share with you.

See you on the trail!

Proposition 2 Passes In California!

2008-11-05T10:31:00.000-07:00

Thank you, California!

In a historic victory, California voters overwhelmingly approved Proposition 2, a landmark measure that bans three of the cruelest factory farming confinement systems -- battery cages, veal crates and gestation crates -- statewide by 2015. By a vote of more than 60 percent, Californians sent a clear message to big agribusiness that cruelty to animals is unacceptable.

While Prop 2 will curtail the suffering of millions of animals in California, the repercussions throughout the country promise to be even more profound: As California goes, so goes the rest of the nation. California’s new law against animal cruelty holds the potential to spark an unstoppable precedent for change in the way farm animals are treated nationwide.

Although veal crates, gestation crates and battery-cage confinement systems have been banned throughout Europe, they remain common across most of the United States. With the passage of Prop 2, California becomes the 5th state to outlaw gestation crates (joining Florida, Arizona, Oregon and Colorado) and the third to outlaw veal crates (joining Arizona and Colorado). Perhaps most significantly, it becomes the first state in the nation to ban battery cages for egg-laying hens, who are killed in far greater numbers than either pigs or calves.

De-beaked shortly after hatching, and crammed five or more into a cage the size of a filing drawer, each egg-laying hen is provided less space than a sheet of typing paper to live her entire life. Now, California egg producers will be required to provide birds with enough space to turn around, stand up and spread their wings. This ban on battery cages sets the stage for other states to follow in California’s path, ultimately affecting many millions more animals each year.

The impact of California’s passing of Prop 2 will be significant, and the efforts of animal protection advocates across the country toward its passage will continue to send ripples across the nation. Thank you to everybody who gave their time and energy to help achieve this phenomenal victory. Together, we are making a difference!

See you on the trail -- and thank you again, California voters!

Pineridge In Autumn

2008-10-31T08:15:00.001-06:00

On yesterday afternoon's run, I decided to bring a camera along, just to capture a bit of the autumn beauty of the Pineridge Open Space.
Happy Halloween!

See you on the trail!

Long May You Run

2008-10-02T08:12:00.000-06:00

If you've been a runner for any length of time, chances are that some finger-wagging Cassandra has warned you that your running is going to ruin your knees.

"You'll hurt yourself!"

"You'll get arthritis!"

I've acknowledged these warnings in the past by telling said finger-wagger that I love running so much that I was happy to live with the risk --- but now I have a new, more effective comeback: scientific data.

A study published recently in the Journal of Preventive Medicine, conducted at the Stanford University School of Medicine has demonstrated that "Long-distance running among healthy older individuals was not associated with accelerated osteoarthritis," and in fact, some data in the survey suggests that runners might actually have a lower risk of developing arthritis in their knees and hips, though the specific study sample was too small to prove in a statistically significant way that running had a protective effect.

The best news of all is, this study isn't alone in dispelling the notion that running destroys people's knees. A 2006 study of runners, conducted by the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine and published in the Journal of American Osteopathic Association, concluded: "It appears that long-distance running does not increase the risk of osteoarthritis of the knees and hips for healthy people who have no other counterindications for this kind of physical activity. Long-distance running might even have a protective effect against joint degeneration."

Even back in 1990, a study in Denmark, published in the American Journal of Sports Medicine, came to the same conclusion: "A lifetime of long distance running at mileage levels comparable to those of recreational runners today is not associated with premature osteoarthrosis in the joints of the lower extremities." And these are but a few of the many studies I came across today as I perused the bibliographies of these three -- all of them concluding that running doesn't cause arthritis, and might in fact be healthy for the connective tissues in your joints that could otherwise develop arthritis as you age.

So run on, my friends, and long may you run.

See you on the trail!