Final Taper Week

Strong, swift, soft.

Embrace the pain, refuse to suffer.

Relentless forward progress.

Run when you can, walk when you have to.

Just keep moving.

Holy crap it's hot.

Don't listen to your body, trust your training.

It's funny sometimes where your mind goes while running. Sometimes, especially when you're running solo, you have to talk to yourself to keep from going crazy. (That's right, world. Our rules are different. Join us and let the insanity envelop you like a warm, soft blanket.) And when you start measuring your runs in hours rather than miles, the <thuff-thuff-thuff> of your feet hitting the trail invokes a few, repetitive thoughts or phrases. Naturally the voice in my head goes on and on like a lonely old grandmother with dementia, so the stuff I have listed at the top is a very small list, but I'm willing to bet that many other runners can relate.

Right now though I find myself doing the roughly same thing only I'm not running. I'm "tapering" which in layman's terms is "sitting on my ass and bugging everyone around me about my race this weekend." Only it's not some motivational quote or words of encouragement. It's stuff like:

• That pain in my heel better freaking go away.
• I need to check my nutrition strategy again.
• Is everything I need packed in my running bag?
• How many days left?
• What shirt am I going to wear?
• Is Wednesday the right day to start carb loading?

And so on and so on. Ahh, pre-race jitters. Gotta love 'em.

Speaking of carb loading, I'm kind of looking forward to it; although I really like my protein. Still, three days of sweets and starches and little else will be a fun change of pace: pancakes, spaghetti, rice, sweet potato, bagels, juice, dried fruit, etc. Is it a perfect plan? Probably not. But my body should respond well, it's not something that will cause any negative mental stress, and everything on it is relatively easy to prepare.

So, five more days. Five. All the miles, all the trips to Palo Duro Canyon since May (25 by my count, each one taking ~45 minutes of driving), all the long runs and blisters and 100+ degree days and purchases at Get Fit have led up to this. My first ever 50K trail run. Whatever shape I'm in will have to do. I figure my body is physically capable of running 20 quality miles on the trail, meaning my mind will have to be good for at least another 11. That's the fun part though, and the reason I'm doing it in the first place. Be significant. Besides, if I want to run the 50 mile race next year, I have to get this sucker out of the way first.

One more thing. It's a long shot, but there's always a chance that someone who is actually running the race will read this blog. If you're one of those people who by sheer luck found me here, and you can do it again out at the canyon this Saturday, introduce yourself and I'll let you have one of the ten kitschy, cotton, Palo Duro Canyon t-shirts I came across recently. It has a picture of the Lighthouse and says "I Love Texas!" or something equally cheesy, I forget. They run huge though, so I hope you're a pajama t-shirt kind of person.

Enough rambling. Back to obsessing over my trail groceries.

Palo Duro Trail Run Course Guide

Foreword
If you're a canyon veteran, I'm going to apologize in advance for leaving anything out. (Please leave a comment and tell me what I missed.) If you've been to Palo Duro Canyon before but don't really remember much, let this serve as a refresher. And finally to those who have never been to the canyon, I hope I provide enough information to give you an idea of what to expect but not enough to spoil the experience of your first time out there.

Anyone who knows me or has kept up with this blog should know that I am extremely proud of Palo Duro Canyon. But never let it be said that I'm not equally appreciative of those who have taken the time to make it such a wonderful place to go trail running. The trails are in great shape and have a good variety of difficulty and technicality, and they didn't get that way because of deer or cattle or a band of magical elves with construction hats and tiny shovels. So let this guide be dedicated to those folks - Red Spicer, Bill and Wynn Ross, Kevin McClish, et al. - who gave up countless hours of their free time so that goofballs like me can have such a fun and amazing place to go trail running. I just hope that one day I can look back and say I ran these trails, and made a respectable attempt at working on them, as much as they did.

Update: After corresponding with Bill and Wynn Ross, there are a few more individuals (by no means though is the list complete) who deserve recognition for the contributions they've made to the beauty and success of the PDC trail system:
 - Bill Snure
 - Chris Villagomez
 - Jason Bass
 - Bryan and Nuggett Quillin

Thanks, guys!


Notice: you may consult or print this park map for additional reference.

How to Get to the Starting Line (Juniper Day Use Area)
After you've entered the park there's really only one way to go, so just stick with it for a while and take care not to hit any deer. The road will wind and turn and go downhill until you eventually get to the bottom of the canyon. What you're initially going to be looking for are river crossings, so don't let anything else distract you.

River Crossing #1

River Crossing #2

The first significant structure you reach will be the Pioneer Amphitheater where the musical Texas is performed every summer. Just around the corner from that is a convenience store for tourists the trading post. (No, kids, we're not stopping for candy. We just ate an hour ago.) Also on the way you'll pass the Interpretive Theater (on your left), Givens, Spicer & Lowry trailhead and race aid station (on your right), and river crossing #1. Keep going though until you reach river crossing #2 and the Lighthouse trailhead.

Lighthouse parking

Now the Lighthouse trailhead is probably the most frequently used area for the thousands of hikers/bikers/runners who visit PDC every year. This is mainly due to the Lighthouse trail itself, but also because it's literally the center of the whole trail system. So naturally it serves as the "middle" of the 12.5 mi loop that you'll be running as well as home to another aid station. If you're a 20K runner, you'll pass through it twice. If you're running the 50K, you'll pass through five times. And if you're running the 50-mile like a boss, you'll go through here...yup, you guessed it. Eight times. So smile big and give an enthusiastic "Thanks!" during your first time through, because the good folks manning this station are going to be real familiar to many of us before the day is over.

Back to the driving directions. You'll want to really slow your vehicle down once you reach river crossing #2, because it will be dark and this is where a lot of people have gotten lost in the past (me included). Immediately after the Lighthouse parking area is Alternate Park Road 5. Turn here. Do not go straight/left. Most likely it will be marked before race day, but you can look for the road sign just in case it isn't.

Juniper Day Use Area entrance

After you make the right onto Alternate Road 5, drive a mile or so until you see the Juniper camp on your left (sign on the right, pictured here). Do not drive down in there. Pull up a tiny bit more and you'll see a flat, unpaved area on your left that serves as parking. If you don't get there early enough and it's filled up, don't panic. Volunteers will help you park along the road. Once parked, just walk down into the camp and start warming up for the big race!



The Bottom Loop (First Half)
Juniper camp: start/finish, restrooms, an aid station, and post-race burgers can all be found at this spot. Toe the line, take a deep breath, and get ready to have a great, great run!

Juniper  Trailheads

The race starts on the second half of Juniper Riverside, which is pretty narrow in its entirety so there won't be a lot of passing going on at first. If you consider yourself a faster runner, trust me when I say you want to start up at the front. If you don't, it's going to drive you nuts not being able to find your happy pace. Really though, this trail is a great warm-up, and it's going to be dark, and everyone is going to be amped up itchy britches, so just relax and settle in for the first mile. Eventually the trail will end and you're going to come out of the trees, cross Alternate Road 5, and switch over to the Juniper Cliffside trail. If you need to pass some folks, this is where you want to do it since the course gets narrow again on the other side.

Juniper Cliffside

Juniper Cliffside

Juniper Cliffside, I have to say, is my least favorite part of the course and I honestly can't figure out why. It doesn't have much sun cover but neither does Lighthouse or GSL. It is pretty hilly, with many using that as reason enough to tag it as the most difficult trail on the course. I kind of like hills though, and the scenery isn't bad either. Eh, I guess there has to be a loser in every contest even when all the contestants are pro. You'll see here that I've provided a few looks that you'll get over the next three miles.

One significant thing about this section though is the inspiring landmark named after one of the most well-liked people to ever walk these trails. I'm talking of course about the late J.M. "Red" Spicer, former director of the PDTR and one of the folks who helped create and maintain a lot of this course. It's at this landmark that many runners, myself included, pay their respects by tapping the rock every time they pass by.

Red's Rock - Juniper Cliffside

Not long after you've passed Red's Rock, you'll briefly hop off the trail and into the Lighthouse parking area. If you can't decide right away that you need anything from the aid station, take into consideration that the next one is about 2.5 miles away. And remember: always thank those volunteers whether you take something or not!

Juniper Cliffside exit

Now you're about to get friendly with the most popular kid in school. No joke, in one training run I typically come across more hikers and bikers on this trail than I see on all the other trails combined. There's just something about Lighthouse that everyone loves. It's like people who go to New York City and they just have to go to the top of the Empire State Building. Not that the Lighthouse isn't really cool, don't get me wrong. I always have a lot of fun getting up there.

The Top Loop

Lighthouse Trailhead

Let me start off by saying you will not run all the way to the Lighthouse during this race. If you want to see it up close, my suggestion would be to go out the day before and hike up to it. Stretch your legs a little. Take some nice pictures. The round-trip is a little under 6 miles, and it's a fairly easy trek overall so you're not going to tire yourself out or anything.

Lighthouse Trail

As I hinted earlier, the Lighthouse trail doesn't have much in the way of trees. Or anything that gives you shade really. Right around the 1.1 mile marker there's a cliff that provides some protection from the sun, but forget about that after 9am or so. The trail is nice though, starting out flat, then gradually going uphill into a mix of surfaces and elevations. There are plenty of open spaces as well, similar to what you saw on Juniper Cliffside.

Lighthouse-GSL junction

After around 1.8 miles, you'll find yourself at the LH-GSL junction. (Regarding what I said earlier about it's popularity, can you see the footprints going to the Lighthouse? And see the lack of them on GSL?) Take a right on Givens, Spicer and Lowry, ignore the big thermometer if it's trying to tell you it's hot, and get ready for a few of the more demanding sections of the course.

Now when I say "demanding," I don't mean GSL is super hard or anything, because none of the trails at Palo Duro Canyon are super hard. But there are a few relatively lengthy uphills, and there's quite a bit of loose, gravely rock, and there are some tight, winding corners (in a section I call The Racetrack). And running it in the middle of the summer can be brutal and make you wish you had brought more water. But having said that, this is definitely my favorite section of the course. Maybe it's because of the increased difficulty or maybe it's because of the scenery. I don't know. There's even a spot where I bonked once (it's a long uphill starting at the .6 mile marker), instantly becoming a zombie and dragging my knuckles the 4 miles back to Juniper camp. But I try to run it almost every time I go out and I'm like a kid at Christmas when I do.

One important note about the first quarter mile or so of GSL. There will be a creek bed that you'll cross over, and immediately take a left after you do. This isn't really part of GSL proper, but instead an addition that was made a few years back to increase the length of the course. Just a small detour, nothing big. About 400 yards in you'll come across another fork. Go right this time and you'll quickly see the 6 mile course marker. From there it's a hop and a skip to the GSL-Little Fox junction.

Now you're at the famous Dos Loco Senioritas aid station. Maybe you even heard these great ladies before you got there, whooping and hollering at the runners ahead of you. There won't be as many treats at this station compared to the others since it's not exactly close to the main road, so plan accordingly. From here, you'll take a left and continue on down GSL.

Cottonwood Flats - GSL Trail

And don't let this next section - Cottonwood Flats - trick you into thinking that the rest of the trail is flat and fast. You're about to run into what I affectionately call The Moon. Why I call it that and not "Mars" is beyond me, since the black rocks and red dirt probably make this section look more like the latter rather than the former. I'm guessing it's because "moon" is easier for me to say when I'm exhausted and deliriously talking out loud to myself.




The Moon - GSL Trail



Cairn - GSL Trail

A few more things about GSL. (I told you it was my favorite!) At one point when you're about a mile away from the trailhead, and the trail opens up into a plateau-like area, look for the cairn (pictured on the right) and feel free to add a rock of your own. As a matter of fact, there have been a lot of cairns popping up all over the course lately, but this one seems to be my favorite. (I've even seen a lizard perched on top and sunning himself on this one.) I suppose it's just a unique way visitors can leave their "graffiti" without doing any damage. (If you spot a medium-sized piece of white gypsum on this particular cairn, I carried that from a few miles back!) Also look directly to your right before continuing on. In my opinion it's one of the best views on the whole course, even offering a nice look at the Lighthouse off in the distance. Oh and the last 0.1 mile section of GSL (or first if you're going to be picky about it) is probably my most favorite of all tenths out there. Why? Well for one thing it's downhill. And it signals that I've survived GSL. And there's an aid station at the bottom during races. But if it's a summer training run, it's because there's a rest area nearby where I can wash my salty face and fill up my water bottle after the 100 degree heat has beat down on me so bad, I keep imagining that a football helmet-wearing monkey standing on the back of a unicorn is going to burst out of the bushes any second and start singing Broadway show tunes.



Givens, Spicer & Lowry Trailhead

Once you're off GSL, you'll turn right and have to run on the main park road. Not for long though. At the bottom of the hill, right after river crossing #1, you'll see a narrow trail to your right. That's Paseo del Rio and that's where you want to go.



Paseo del Rio Trailhead

There's not much to say about this trail really. It's flat, relatively straight, and absolutely the shadiest part of the course. Love and appreciate the abundance of trees and cliffside here, because it's a Palo Duro Canyon luxury. This trail is pretty narrow too, but there's a very slim chance of racers being clumped up at this stage so there's little worry of getting stuck in slow traffic.

Paseo del Rio exit

After a mile or so, you'll pop out of the trees and back onto the main park road. Very similar to what you saw coming out of GSL, this section of the course is also paved. Just turn right as you come out, then make your way over river crossing #2 until you reach the Lighthouse Hiking Trail sign and course marker. Upper loop complete, 10 miles down, 2.5 miles to go!

The Bottom Loop (Second Half)

Rojo Grande Trailhead

Alt Road 5 - Rojo Grande

Once in the Lighthouse parking area, you'll see off to your left the place where you came in earlier from Juniper Cliffside. It's a fork, with the left branch serving as the trailhead of Rojo Grande. Go that way and cross over Alternate Park Road 5 to the trail that continues on the other side.

"El Viejo" - Rojo Grande Trail

If I had to pick a second favorite trail, Big Red would probably be it. Narrow with lots of hills, some decent shade, a river (that hasn't been running much because of the drought), and some pretty awesome scenery like this old cottonwood tree here.

 

Rojo-Sunflower junction

About a mile later you'll come out of the trees and see the main park road. Keep right and you'll go right back into the trees, only now you'll be on Sunflower trail which will seem like a mix of Rojo and Juniper Cliffside. After another mile or so, you'll come to another fork. In the picture below, taken the day before a bike race, you can see that some folks obviously have a hard time reading signs so the trail is taped off. Ha! Us runners need no such help! <grab crotch, spit> Just veer left onto Juniper Riverside and you'll be headed for home.

Juniper Riverside-Sunflower junction

There isn't a lot to say about JCR that hasn't already been said about the previous few miles. The section is flat, narrow, and provides brief moments of shade. Simply keep running knowing that the Juniper camp is just up ahead!

And that's it. That's the course. Easy peasy, bacon greasy. If you're a 20K runner, WOOHOO! Grats, you did it! But if you're running either of the 50s? Sorry, kiddo. You have a ways to go still.

Summary
Hopefully this has served as a fairly informative guide on what to expect while participating in a Palo Duro Trail Race. And more importantly, I hope I've shared some of my enthusiasm with you regarding how awesome of a place it is to visit. I've run through this course many, many times now, yet I'll be swept up by its beauty on race day as much as I was during my first time out.

In closing, I want to ask that you please, please, no matter who you are or how competitive you plan on being, slow down every so often and look around; especially at sunrise. You'll likely be upset with yourself later if you don't. Because being on the trail isn't just about physical fitness. It's an escape from the modern world, a nod to our ancestors, and it's sadly becoming a rare occasion that only the lucky ones get to truly experience. I feel it's our duty to appreciate not only the opportunity that we've been given, but also our physical ability that affords us that opportunity. The badge we put on every time we go out is that of a trail runner, but it's not pride that makes us wear it. It's humility and reverence. We take care of the trail and it takes care of us. So again, pause for a moment. Smile at yourself and at your fellow runners. And allow the smells and sights and sounds remind you of what running used to be before they paved paradise and put up a parking lot.

And if I can't convince you of how vital it is that we allow running to help define who are, maybe Roger Bannister can.

"We run, not because we think it is doing us good, but because we enjoy it and cannot help ourselves. The more restricted our society and work become, the more necessary it will be to find some outlet for this craving for freedom."



Jump strong. Fly swift. Land soft. 



Be Significant

This past Sunday I celebrated my 41st birthday, but that's not what this post is about. Not really anyway. No, it's more about one thing that started going through my mind that morning as I got about halfway through a planned 18-mile run.

Backing up a tiny bit, I had originally wanted to run 24 miles out at the Canyon, thinking the workout would serve as my last long, difficult run before the PD 50. Two more 18-milers after that and then I'd be in a full taper right up until "gun's up." But apparently people other than me use the canyon, and sometimes those people happen to be bike riders, and sometimes those bike riders like to have races of their own. Le sigh. So coupled with the fact that Lissa - my best friend/canyon partner/race team captain -  was on death's door with a cold, there wasn't a whole lot of internal debate going on about going out or staying home. Stay home, run an easy 18, then do my 24-mile run at the canyon next week. Yeah, that's a good plan. Let's do that instead. OK, go!

So go I went, with every intention of roughly sticking to my 50K nutrition and rest plan: stop every 3 miles, consume 300 calories and 800 mg of sodium every hour, and make sure to mix in some protein and fat along with all the carbs. Here's a list of what I had to eat in the beginning:

• cinnamon raisin bagel w/honey and 1 cup of milk (1.5 hours pre-run)
• 3 Fig Newtons (after mile 6)
• 8 oz grape juice and 4 oz sliced turkey (after mile 9)

OK, so I said something about a thought that I had halfway through. What was the thought? It's the post title - Be Significant. You see, it was my birthday and I wasn't spending it how most people would. Most would be sleeping in, or going to church, or eating brunch with family and friends, or watching TV and drinking coffee. Not me though. No, my butt is up running around the neighborhood like some idiot with nothing else to do. "So," I thought. "What exactly is so special about running 18 miles? Am I going to look back and remember doing anything worthwhile on this day? Reflect on the fact that I ran a distance I'd already run before? Probably not. So don't just run 18 miles then. Make this day truly special. Be significant. Do something unexpected, something you can be proud of. Nut up or shut up, young man, because it's time to measure up."

• GU vanilla bean energy gel (after mile 12)
• Kashi Oatmeal Dark Chocolate cookie, baby dill pickles w/juice, and 8 oz Gatorade (after mile 15)
• 100 calorie box of craisins (after mile 18)
• 1/2 cup refried black beans on a small, flour tortilla and 12 oz defizzed Diet Dr Pepper (after mile 21)
• 2 Fig Newtons (after mile 24)
• 16 oz Gatorade (after mile 27)

Glancing down at my Garmin, I hit 26.2 miles at 4:57. Then I passed some guy for the third time who was mowing his lawn and probably asking himself what in the hell I was doing. Then I had that last two cups of Gatorade and told Lissa how I was really beginning to feel not-so-well, but I sure did love my new Julbo Ultra sunglasses. Then I stopped my Garmin at 30.04 miles and saw that I'd run it in 5 hours and 41 minutes. Be significant.

Who has two thumbs and ran 30 miles on his 41st birthday?

Oh and that PDTR course guide is coming. Soon. Just like I said.

The Big Long Awaited Granddaddy Update Post (Part One)

Although this introductory picture here was taken by my beautiful daughter after the Barr Trail run, it's pretty much what one would see if one were to catch me after every run. Because that's how I roll, bee-yotch. All out, no holds barred, pedal to the metal. Or because I tire easily, I don't know. I'm beginning to forget things in my old age.

So here we go. Let's see how long-winded I can be while going into detail about what I've been up to this summer. I mean, it's not like I have my summers off, so you can only imagine how busy and run down I would be trying to squeeze my workouts into the grueling and hectic schedule of a high school athletic trainer on vacation. Nah, it's not like that at all.

Colorado. Let me start off by saying that if someone were to call me up right now and offer me a job (that included a pay raise of course) working somewhere in or around Colorado Springs, I might take the time to pack my bags before hitting I-40 and heading west. Put simply, that whole area is just the bees knees, and the folks who live there are some of the luckiest people anywhere ever. And them thar hills is absolutely the funnest and most difficult places to run that I can imagine. I mean look at it. Seriously. How can anyone look at this picture and think something stupid like "Eh, whatever."? They can't. Trust me. I'm a doctor.

So anyway, the race. We get to Manitou Springs and park about a mile downhill from the start. And when I say "downhill," I mean it. The walk up served as a dang good warm-up and just a small taste of the climb I was about to endure. It was a good crowd though and the weather was nice, and I hadn't traveled all that way to start wetting myself before we even toed the line. But once the gun went off, and I jogged with the traffic up the remainder of the street, I was just about ready to give a good ol' "See ya!" to the people up front. But rather than do that, I figured I'd just walk a bit. And walk a little more. Oh I mean, hike. Hike! Yeah, I'm hiking up the mountain and my heart is about to explode out of my chest. We'll say that because it sure wasn't running. Two freaking hours to walk hike 6.25 freaking miles. What was it I said way back in June when I ran up the mountain in Santa Fe? Learn to walk/jog? Ha! Good one, Jason.

Well I got to the top and I'd managed to make the cut-off time limit, but I didn't want to diddle my doodle for very long because I still wanted to make the finish line in 3 hours. And let me tell you the trip down was way easier. Almost as if I was just starting the race. Six miles? That's it?!? Ka-chow! My ankles were still cruddy and loose from the numerous sprains I'd subjected them to over the past month though, so my pace was a compromise of sorts. Fast enough to have fun and make my goal but slow enough to prevent anything on my body from blowing up on me. Plus it was vital that I stop every so often and take some pictures like this one here.

Without dragging this out any longer, I reached the end of the trail, fried what was left of my quads on the last quarter mile or so of downhill street, ran up the super steep HAHA YOU'RE NOT DONE YET block to the finish line and collected my race shirt. Of course the best part was yet to come - sitting in a cold, mountain river and letting the pain lose out to sweet, sweet numbness.

Part two coming soon!

Is This Thing Still On?

Wow, OK. It's been quite a while since I posted anything. I guess I turned out to be one of those people who gets all excited and gung-ho about making A COOL AND AWESOME BLOG ABOUT ME THAT EVERYONE WILL LOVE but then lets it die after a few weeks. What a putz.

Well no! I'm not going to be that person. I'm going to entertain (both of) you and tell you all about the interesting life I've been leading, and provide you with valuable insight on how (not) to run. So here goes...

1. In July, I ran the Barr Trail race in Colorado. It was 12.5 miles and very hard, but also one of the funnest runs I've ever done. I'll post more about it very soon.
2. In August, I sent my second kid to college. I miss him a lot, but he's going to excel and have a great career afterwards, so it's all worth it.
3. On September 4th, I ran my first marathon (distance) out at Palo Duro Canyon. Before you ask, it took a total of 5:50, but that included walk breaks, rest stops, water refills, snacks, etc. Accomplishing this had many benefits, one being that I convinced myself I can complete the upcoming 50K. I'll post more about it very soon.
4. I want to make a detailed guide on running in PD Canyon, and more specifically on the 12.5 mi trail loop that we'll be running at the 50. This guide will be for those who aren't lucky enough to go out there as much as I've been - 20 times in the past 3 months - and will include: pictures, descriptions, tips, etc. As with with the aforementioned items, I'll post this very soon.
5. I'm growing my hair long. Why? I guess I'm hoping it'll help me run like Anton Krupicka.
6. RunKeeper says I've logged 500 miles since April. Rather than being happy about it, I'm a little pissed off at myself. I should have hit 500 sometime in July. Ugh. Quit being lazy, Jason, and put some freaking miles in.

Alright, that's enough for now. My next post will be way more awesomer and fulfilling. And it'll have pictures. And I'll make it very soon, I promise.

Yeah, We're Crazy. So?

Finding and watching these videos did two things for me:

1. Made me laugh and put me in a good mood.
2. Reminded me that I'm not alone in my obsession.

Every day, every week, I make my schedule around when and where I'm going to run. Of course sometimes something happens that causes me to change that schedule - injury, illness, sudden family issues - and I need to learn not to freak out too much about it. To remember that running isn't the only way to improve physical and mental health. Still, the feeling a fair weather day, hand bottle of ice water, and perfectly adjusted shoe laces can provide is tough to beat! And that exact moment you sprain your ankle (which I did this past Sunday) or wake up too late in the morning (and it's already 90+ degrees) can honestly be an emotional shock. "Now what am I going to do? I don't want to cross-train. Or heaven forbid...DO NOTHING!"

I'm better than I used to be though. Really. OK, not really. But I'm trying.

Enjoy the videos and have a great 4th of July weekend!

A Long Way To Go

In just a short month I'm going to participate in the Barr Trail Mountain Race in Manitou Springs, CO., so I wanted to spend Father's Day weekend running something similar. When it comes down to it though, running is running, and as long as I've put in the miles and strengthened my legs and core, any 12 mile race should be doable. Yeah. Or so I thought until I started up the mountain in Santa Fe, NM.

The plan was to do "A Long, Strenuous Hike With Great Views" up and around Atalaya Peak, a 9.5 mile route that's part of the Dale Ball Trail system. Thankfully the altitude didn't seem to affect me much, as my resting heart rate of 57 was unchanged (if not slightly lower) the morning of my run. The weather was incredible and I was well rested. So with no reservations, I started out at my normal pace and looked forward to an enjoyable morning. But very early on, I began to question that simple-minded strategy. Because "uhh, I'm not even a half mile in and this is already getting pretty steep. And it's not flattening out."

Oh Toto. I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.

The starting elevation was around 7300 ft above sea level which is certainly higher than the rim of PD Canyon (3500 ft), but it's not that significant. After one mile though, I was at over 7600 ft, and I'm used to seeing no more than a 100 ft climb over the course of a mile at home. At two miles, the elevation was over 8200 ft. And after three, the top of Atalaya peak, it was just shy of 9100 ft. Running for no more than 30 seconds felt like a quarter mile sprint. Ugh.

What an idiot I turned out to be. A naive, inexperienced idiot. There's just no running that kind of climb. Not right now anyway. Not in my current physical condition. All this time I thought the "walk the steep uphills" rule applied to the tiny sections of PDC that aren't completely flat. Oh, Jason. Those aren't uphills. Those are speed bumps compared to what you're going to see in Colorado, so you better learn to attack the small stuff.

Well hard lesson learned. I wore myself out on Atalaya, deciding to just head back down and call it a day. Still, I'm really, really thankful for the experience I gained from a mere six miles. Going up hundreds of feet per mile is all about being smart and saving your juice for the parts that don't instantly jack your heart rate up to 160+ BPM. Patience, patience, patience. (Something I need to learn and not just in running.) And as difficult as the climb to the top was, it was equally fun hauling ass on the way down, slowing down only to prevent a nasty tumble or glorious dive off the mountain.

So now I know what it's going to take to complete the Barr Trail race, staying under the allowed time limit and getting my shirt and keychain. Now I know what to expect physically and mentally, and how to better pace myself on both aspects. Now I know that I'm definitely not ready. But I will be.

The Lighthouse

"Did you go by the Lighthouse?"

I get that question a lot when I mention that I like to go to Palo Duro Canyon, but I had no idea why. I knew that in my two past races that I supposedly ran near it, but I honestly had no idea how popular of a trail and landmark the Lighthouse was, or what it even looked like, until recently. And it's not really the frequency of that question that convinced me but rather the traffic. Seriously, after only two times I've already lost count of the people I see on this trail. Dodging all kinds of bikers and hikers (but no runners so far) has become a new technical aspect to deal with, but it's all good because it's a really, really beautiful and relaxing run.

The trail itself isn't much different than any other flat, winding trail out there, so it's a great way to loosen up during that first mile or two of a workout. Just shy of two miles though, you come to a decision: keep going or switch off to one of the more difficult parts of the PDC Trail Race 12.5 mi loop. (Miles 3-6 on this run.) I'd originally set out with the plan to run the latter, but decided about half a mile in to take the opportunity to see what all the fuss was about. The Lighthouse! "Did you go by the Lighthouse?" OH OH LIGHTHOUSE! OK, fine. Fine! Let's do it for frak sake.

After about 2.8 miles I'm guessing, I came to what looked like a dead-end. And a bike rack. Huh? What's that for? Ahhh! Look closer, Jas. The trail becomes a path through some trees and rocks. And it goes up. WAY up. Like "lean way forward and use your hands to grab onto crap so you don't slip and go backwards" up. I'm now climbing, not running, yet I'm still in running mode, so my heart rate is going through the roof and I'm gasping for air while I scramble up the path like a crippled mountain goat. But it's awesome and I'm having a blast going somewhere new. After a few minutes more of nervous, clumsy climbing, I get to the top and take a 10-minute break, using the time to take some customary pictures.

So now I know why it's so popular. And why I'll be going this way a lot in the future.

The Beast

I made a reference to the Beast in an earlier post, and after the day I had yesterday, I figure now is a good time to go into a little more detail about what it is.

So Saturday I had a pretty good day on the trail. It was only a 5 mile filler run, but my energy level was high and I felt strong. In control. It felt as if I was finally hitting my groove, and that trail running was becoming as natural as road running. It was also the end of almost 40 miles, my highest weekly total so far (which I'm really trying to increase at a safe and reasonable pace), and I knew going out there that the only expectation was to enjoy myself. Anyway, it was a great experience. Maybe it was because I had taken a day off, or I had eaten or slept well. I wish I knew because Sunday was the absolute worst and not at all like the shorter run the day before. No, on this run I got to entertain the Beast almost the entire way.

Let me say now that the run was designed to be a long one. The plan was to spend 3 hours on my feet and start getting used to the 6+ hours that would be required to finish a 50K. I certainly didn't expect to run the entire time, but I did want to keep the pace steady and the walks relatively short. What happened though was that I felt exhausted from the start, physically and mentally, and nothing I was doing was making it any better. Pre-workout nutrition? Check (cinnamon-raisin bagel). Hydration? Check (72 oz water). Workout calories? Check (Honey Stinger waffles and Espresso Love GU). I was smart with my pace. I was strategic with the hills. I took my salt tablets. And 4 miles in, I was ready to quit.

The Beast, a mental manifestation that represents itself by telling you how stupid and inadequate you are, showed up out of nowhere and wouldn't go away. So for 11 more miles, I questioned the feasibility of training for a race that was only 4 months away and more than twice the distance I'd ever run in my entire life. I wasn't going to be in shape. I wasn't going to be physically and mentally and spiritually tough enough for 31 miles if I couldn't even handle a half dozen without stopping. 4 months! Are you freaking kidding me? And I'll be 41 years old by then. There's just no way. This is absolutely stupid. The heat is smothering. My left ear just stopped up for some unknown reason. My nose and eyes are sore and raw from wiping them with my shirt. My left, non-injured ankle is hurting and forcing a slight limp out of me. And what is up with these giant mutant flies that are buzzing around my head and chasing me literally almost every step of the way? You're right, Beast. I should stick to the half marathons and consider myself lucky to finish those.

Well I finished my "run" in a little over three hours and wanted nothing more than to just go to sleep. I wasn't hungry. I wasn't thirsty. I just wanted to lay down and wait for the hammered dog shit feeling to go away. I was beat. I challenged the Beast to a minor showdown and got my butt handed to me. My pride and body and will to persevere had left me for lands unknown, leaving me a stinky, salty, exhausted mess. Oh what a difference a day makes. Learning time!

What lesson? I'm still alive. The circling birds, and bat-like flies, and hundreds of stupid lizards of Palo Duro Canyon that love to scare the piss out me by rustling the trail brush every 100 ft will have to find some other paunchy white boy to feast upon this week. The experience didn't kill me, but rather showed me that even the worst times are beneficial. No, the bad times are the most beneficial. I mean, what do we learn from the easy things? Really learn. Sayings like "No pain, no gain" and "That which does not kill us makes us stronger" don't come out of nowhere, right? Genuine, forward progress is made through suffering and fatigue and hurt and sweat and horse flies, and the Beast is nothing more than a bullshit artist. (Ah ha! Now we know where the flies came from.)

So bring on the next run. Pain subsides and fades like all other less-than-enjoyable memories, and the pleasure that comes from surviving always trumps it in the end anyway. My legs and lungs and mind are stronger than they were before Sunday's run and the next run will prove that.

Oh and pictures!

Slow or Fast?

I had this sticker made for my truck last year. Clever! I wish the idea had been mine but it wasn't.

But yeah, LSDs and speed days. I decided to put both into my ultra program since I really have two goals this summer: finish the 50K in October and run a sub-20:00 5K in September. (Actually I have a third goal - to run a marathon, or at least the distance of one, before my 41st birthday in September - but I figure that should be pretty doable after ultra training for 3 months.) Opposite ends of the spectrum of races for sure, but the latter goal is much older and I'm also not quite ready to give up my "glory days" ability to fast.

After reading a lot of stuff on ultra and trail running though, there appears to be a divide on the necessity of speed workouts. Some will say it's more important to put miles in the book since your goal during an ultra is to simply not fall over dead mid-stride, while others say that things like intervals and tempo runs will boost your lactate threshold, subsequently making you stronger overall. Well I certainly don't have enough experience yet to vouch for either school of thought, but I've always been of the opinion that there's never one simple way of getting better. Instead, we should keep the body guessing. Balance and variety are good for us, and recruiting all muscle types will have a better pay off in the end. And really, come on. Going fast is fun!

So in my plan I almost always run long on Sunday morning and do some sort of speed workout on either Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday. As for what kinds of speed workouts, I'll be doing little more than alternating fartleks, intervals, and a few local 8-10K races. Nothing all out on the races of course, but enough to count them as tempo runs. I just hope that they get me faster because I'm going to lose my freaking mind if I don't get my 5K PR.

Long runs so far are going well, and I'm finally running them at a "conversational pace" that's a tad slower than I used to go. Two runs at PD Canyon that were ~8.5 mi each and a 15.2 mi run through Medi Park this past Sunday that served as a distance PR. Surprisingly too I wasn't that sore afterwards which tells me that the trail running is indeed making me a much stronger runner than I was last year. If I'd tried to run that far last fall, I'd have been hobbling around afterwards for a week. Yet this time I took Monday off and then ran a pretty good pace on the trails this morning. It wasn't overly hot, I didn't tweak my ankle once, and one of the best things of all, I don't have any blisters (knock on wood) because of some sweet socks that were recommended to me. (That and I've finally started some decent man callouses that I've resisted the urge to peel off.) Never underestimate the importance of good socks, folks.

As always, here's a picture taken at the canyon this morning:

No Time To Be Injured

Ah, isn't it just like life to aim straight for my nuts when I'm not paying attention?

So yeah, I sprained my ankle this past Saturday and I wish I could say it was doing something worth mentioning. I wasn't running or thwarting a terrorist attack or anything else that would make a cool story. No, I was getting off a trampoline. Not jumping on the trampoline (although I actually still can do a back flip). Getting off. Like, just stepping down. And it popped. How I have no idea, since one could question the very existence of ligaments after all the crap I did to them in high school, but I definitely sprained something. But I did what a good athletic trainer should do and immediately went into R.I.C.E. mode for the rest of the say. Oh and did I mention that this was a day after I barefoot-kicked the corner of the fridge door extremely hard and bruised an extensor tendon severely enough to cause me to limp for 48 hours afterwards? My bad for leaving that part out. Oh and I might as well mention the stomach bug that had me wiped all day Sunday as well.

Well my Memorial Day weekend was hosed and I was already behind schedule just one week into my training plan but whatever. Shit happens. I figured I'd just move my trail run from Sunday to Tuesday and get right back to it. (Ugh, if everything was that easy.) I woke up this morning, saw that the weather was super nice, taped up my own ankle (very nicely too if I may say so), popped two Tylenol, and headed out. And proceeded to crap out after the first four miles. I mean I was whipped. I don't know if it was the temperature or the horrible holiday diet or an altered stride or maybe my Sunday illness hanging about, but I could not keep my heart rate down for anything. I'm pretty sure it wasn't my foot or ankle as neither bothered me too much. I even tore off the tape after the first half mile or so, and as long as I stayed on my toes and kept my right ankle from going into full, quick dorsiflexion, everything felt fine. No, I don't know what it was but running was brutal today. So I walked way more than last time. But I guess I need to get used to a run/walk mix if I'm to complete a 50K. I just hope come October that I don't start feeling the need to rest until my last 12.5 mi lap.

And I made another wrong turn. (sigh) Hey, at least it was at a different spot this time.

link to today's run

Anyway, enjoy some of the pics I took during my frequent "holy crap, my heart is about to explode" sessions.