Looking to Winter

My race season is done and I still have plantar fasciitis. In the months leading up to Mountain Masochist I looked forward to the relief of not having a race to train for. I looked forward to the feeling that I could afford to forego my runs in order to heal my foot. But now that that time is now I am not so happy about it.

The only real stress I have ever felt is with being limited by an injury. When the weather is nice (as it has been since Hurricane Sandy) all I want to do is plan out and run some fun adventures. My tick list has been growing since September, but I finally had to stop look at maps and Internet blogs when they started to depress me. I miss the feeling of a crisp fall climb followed by the descent. With the leaves off the trees more sun hits my body and makes me feel good. The lack of leaves makes the views better too. I want to breeze through the breeze.

Before my injury I was getting fast. The last run I did before admitting that I was broken was done in just a hair over an hour for 7 miles of technical singletrack with about 1000' of climb and 500' of descent. I've never really posted times like that. I bet I can get it back when this is all over but when will that be?

2012 Hardrock. Photo by Brenden Goetz.

Mountain Masochist 2012

It has been a long three months.

After Hardrock I felt I was ready to start training for speed. I made it a goal to run the 2012 Mountain Masochist 50M as fast as I could and started training accordingly. It was late August when I overdid it with my Rogue Racers and gave myself Plantar Fasciitis. I was doing too much speedwork in too little shoe on feet that have been weakened since the Bear 100 in Sept. 2011.

But I caught it early and started the road to recovery with two and a half months to go until Mountain Masochist. I thought I stood a good chance of being healed by then.

I stopped running but I still had all of that energy that brought me to run ultras in the first place. It needed to be burned and there was so much to do around the house. Even though I wasn't running I was doing too much on my feet for it to really start healing. So I made the decision, with three weeks out, to start running again. Not much. Just a couple of runs a week until the November 3rd race.

The runs went well. I managed to get 6 runs in. Between 3 and 5.5 miles they ranged in distance. It was nice to get out again and run in the mountains. I hadn't lost my speed, just my cardiovascular performance.

My foot wouldn't hurt during the run but it would afterward for several days.

It was never really a question of whether I would run the 50 miles. I had more than a sneaking suspicion that I would run the Mountain Masochist and finish alright. I just wanted to enjoy the run, the people, and the chance of seeing my good friend Michelle run her first ultramarathon as well.

While hurricane Sandy delayed my arrival in Virginia by a couple of days I still found myself at the starting line on Saturday with Michelle, laughing and joking, then suddenly running. Michelle asked "Was that the start?"

We ran together for the first few miles, catching up. Then we hit a few streams and people were too dainty in crossing them. I took off. I excel at stream crossings and felt daring, wanting to go out harder than usual. I felt bad, Michelle and I had been having a great conversation...

Things went well to mile 26 when we encountered the snow for the first time climbing up to Buck Mountain. They told us this would be the worst year of Mountain Masochist. I was "thanking God" that we had snow. A "saving grace." A medium I excel on. The gravel roads were not.

Things continued to go well. I had a rough time entering the loop. I think my body's digestive system had a temporary hiccup. But when I hit the luge track that was the trail up Mount Pleasant I smiled and ran faster. The summit was beautiful and the sun was out!

The rest of the race went well. The ridge was long, evoking my "this has been going on too long" anger. Great snow up there as well. The 8+ inch deep snow making a great uneven luge track. I met a runner named JB and his wife and we talked Hardrock. Turns out his name was Jonathan Basham. Holy cow. Barkley finisher. If I had known I would have asked many more questions about sawbriers and raw chicken.

The finish was great. Lots of people and I actually felt pretty good for finishing 50 miles. Maybe I don't need to train any more? Ha Ha.

Michelle came in looking fresh, wearing fresh GU on her chin. Very enthusiastic for finishing her first 50 miler she said "I expected it would hurt more than it did." I suspect she has a good career as an ultrarunner ahead of her.

My thanks to her crew: Mike, her fiance. Jamie, her friend. Seeing them at a few aid stations was nice. It is always nice to see someone you know. It's also nice to meet new folks as well.

What a great race.

Devil's Path, Halloween 2012

Where else would I rather be on Halloween? If only I could find a trail run in the setting for Washington Irving's The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. But wait! What about the Devil's Path in the Catskill Mountains of New York?
      A classic long run of the Northeast, I felt it would be a fun reconnaissance mission to run a short loop on the eastern end of the Devil's Path on my way to the Mountain Masochist Trail Run in Virginia. My original plan had me running it a couple of days before Halloween but Hurricane Sandy made me push back my itinerary so that it was just right. Squeezed out a quick 1:49, 5.0 6.0 mile run (so slow due to technical difficulty!) with 1,800' of climb on Indian Head Mountain (3573'). I arrived at daybreak, having left home at 3am, and the lighting and fog at the summit added to the creepy feel of the trail. No better place on Halloween!

"Certain it is, the place still continues under the sway of some witching power, that holds a spell over the minds of the good people, causing them to walk in continual reverie. They are given to all kinds of marvelous beliefs, are subject to trances and visions, and frequently see strange sights, and hear music and voices in the air. The whole neighborhood abounds with local tales, haunted spots, and twilight superstitions; stars shoot and meteors glare oftener across the valley than in any other part of the country, and the nightmare, with her whole ninefold, seems to make it the favorite scene of her gambols..."

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, Washington Irving 

Hardrock 2012

Photo taken by Brenden Goetz.

“Are you opposed to running in the rain?” Brenden asked.

“I am just concerned with hypothermia issues,” I lied. The truth was that I really hate running in the rain.

We continued our crouch under the overhang of the chest high boulder, silent in our individual thoughts. The rock was located at 12,500’ of elevation, high in Maggie Basin, quite exposed in one of Colorado’s stereotypical alpine mountainsides. It really wasn’t a good place to be hiding from the lightning storm that was now very real all around us. We were too high, in an area that was too treeless. We were too visible to the mighty Thor.

            “Let’s give it another couple of minutes and then reassess,” I said. Hoping to delay making a decision - especially a decision to go out and run in the rain.

            We had 500’ vertical feet of steep goat path to climb to make it to the exposed ridge. This was one of the only sections I hadn’t run a reconnaissance mission before the race. I didn’t know what lay beyond gaining the ridge but I was pretty sure the trail remained high and exposed for a while. “Best be sure that the storm has passed before trying to do any exposed traversing, ” I told myself. Mentally, I was thinking of any excuse I could to justify not going out in the rain.

            A few more minutes passed and the rain showed signs of abating. I stood up slowly, creekily. 85 miles of running in 36 hours followed by 25 minutes of crouching under a low boulder had made all my muscles below my forehead stiff. Looking to the southeast the ragged-bottomed, low-lying clouds looked to continue to the ridgeline less than two miles away. My best guess was that it was going to continue to rain.

            Hoping to see signs of good news, I turned slowly in the opposite direction and looked to the Northwest. Four heads popped above a rock less than 200 feet away, all debating the same simple question: stay or go?

            Seeing several others around me kickstarted my brain into action. “Wanna go?” I asked Brenden sharply. “Yes” he responded, and I didn’t wait for him to get up before I took off. He could move much faster than I could at this point and would catch up within a few of his long strides.

            The threat of lightning loomed as we restarted our march to the ridge. This time we had a much faster pace. It’s amazing what adrenaline can do for performance. I kept one eye on the trail and one on the cloudy ridgeline. Every nanosecond I was calculating the possibility of another close lightning strike, calculating the amount of time I would spend exposed on this ridge, searching for escape possibilities. My mind was buzzing with assessing the conditions and calculating the routes toward survival. Finally, a true test.

            The trail got weaker and started to traverse a slope. I saw scuffed dirt, a sign that someone wasn’t far ahead. The driving rain hadn’t washed away the footprints yet.

Three hundred feet to the ridge. Two hundred feet. A switchback. One hundred. The summit.  Now where do we go? I had hoped that the race course would drop down the other side of the ridge but the trail appeared to continue up the ridgeline from the pass that we are standing on.

How’s the weather? Improving. Good. Let’s go.

            A short climb and we reach the top of the bump on the ridgeline. This must be the bump they call “Buffalo Boy” that stands above its namesake basin. The adrenaline is still fueling my muscles as we pass a runner that Brenden and I had dubbed “Our Green-shirted Friend” several hours earlier. He appears to be cold, but still coherent and still moving, his arms drawn into his thin windbreaker. The sleeves flapped, empty in the misty wind.

 I had been worried about him, but seeing his condition makes me a little less concerned. Minutes earlier, in the middle of the worst part of the thunderstorm, Brenden and I watched as our Green-shirted Friend had walked by our spot under the boulder of protection. “Crazy,” we had thought.

            We continued, traversing high on the ridge, for several minutes before taking a slowly descending traverse off the ridge. The weather improving, I still didn’t want to be high any longer. The trail wasn’t descending fast enough. On, and on, and on. The search for Stony Pass. Then we would have just 13 miles to go…

Run Log Catch-up through Hardrock

I am back in New Hampshire now and have some time to write about my adventures of the last couple of months. In the next couple of days I am going to attempt to complete serveral things:

1. An update to my run log through to Hardrock
2. Hardrock Race Report
3. A look forward to Mountain Masochist in November

Here is the Run Log update.

June 03-09 2012: This was preparation time for departing for Colorado so I only ran three times this week. The schedule revolved around my long run: the 31.9 mile Pemi Loop on my birthday (see write-up). Weekly Summary: 41.0 miles, 9450' vert.

Along the Buckeye Trail, CVNP.

Along the Buckeye Trail, CVNP.

Along the Buckeye Trail, CVNP.

Catching the train back to my truck.

June 10-16, 2012: The majority of this time was spent traveling towards Silverton, my home until Hardrock. On the way I was able to pull off an 18-mile long run along the Buckeye Trail in Cuyahoga Valley National Park as well as a 10 mile run up Bear Peak and Green Mountain in Boulder with Brenden. Additionally I was able to jog up Mosquito Pass in Leadville unacclimatized but still feeling pretty good. It was a week of classics across the country. Weekly Summary: 34.5 miles, 6700' vert.

The pass to Dives.

June 17-23, 2012: My first week in the San Juans was fruitful. A long run out-n-back from the Bear Creek Tunnel to Virginius was hot and dusty but boosted the amount of reconned run route greatly. Other runs included a quick jog to the South Mineral crossing, an out-n-back to Dives-Little Giant Pass from Silverton, and a jog up to Oh! Point. Weekly Summary: 56.4 miles, 12,750' vert.

June 24-30, 2012: A week broken up by being needed on an Outward Bound course. My long run was a two-day adventure involving 4WDing up Maggie Gulch, riding my bike and camping at Grouse Gulch, and running to my truck again (see my previous post) - a pretty neat way of reconning some run route. Other runs included a run from Cunningham to Dives-Little Giant Pass and a run from Molas Pass down the 34 switchbacks to the railroad to Needleton to Ruby Basin at 11,600' of elevation. Despite being choppy I think it was a good week mileage-wise: 49.2 miles, 14650' vert (does not include hiking out from Ruby which would have added another 15 miles and 2400' of climb).

July 01-07, 2012: Helping out with an Outward Bound course, helping with the Aid Station supplies, and a backpacking trip with Bob cut down on my mileage for the week. This was the middle week for tapering, anyway, by my mileage was sightly less than I had planned. Besides the backpacking my runs included a run up Arrastra Basin cut short by a thunderstorm, a short run to Kite Lake from Beartown, and a long run of only 6 miles part of the way up Kendall Mountain. Weekly Summary: 9.5 miles, 2600' vert.

July 08 - 14 (and 15), 2012: Did a little more running than I had hoped in the week leading up to Hardrock with an 8 mile high altitude run on the CDT looking for a lost OB patrol. Took the rest of the week off up until Hardrock and then ran a great race. I'll post a race report soon. Weekly Summary: 110.5 miles, 35600' vert.

Hardrock 2012: Grouse to Maggie, June 24, 2012

"Shit!" I said. I looked frantically down at my campsite, 500' below me. 6 switchbacks. 1 mile. I turned back to my backpack again and removed all of its contents again. "Where are my salt capsules and electrolyte tablets?" I asked myself aloud. I knew the answer. As I repacked my backpack for the third time the debate raged in my head. Should I go back down to my campsite and get my electrolyte tablets or should I just push on without? I could use this as a lesson in humility and put the extra miles on to have them. I could also use this as a lesson in problem solving and find my way to my destination 26 miles away using my resources (the large amount of food in my pack). Finished with the repacking I decided to push on. "Let's just see what I can do with this body and my food," I thought.

My plan had been executed fairly well to this point. Yesterday I had "four-wheeled" my truck up the Maggie Gulch road and left it parked, waiting for my return. I filled my large backpack with enough food and gear to last a comfortable night out and rode my bike the 2000' descent back to the Animas River and then up the road toward Animas Forks, stopping at Grouse Gulch. I spent a comfortable night in a comfortable spot. No key piece of gear or food had been left behind.

At least until I discovered my electrolytes missing causing my mind to start the constant loop - assess my state and take actions according to my resources: If I start to feel sick, eat some more food and slow down. If I feel good keep going.

Show me your "Duh" face!

Sloan Lake from the trail up Handies.

Though quite dehydrated from my night of sleep I hiked 2200' to the top of American-Grouuse pass and dropped into American Basin. Reaching the bottom, I started the climb up to the highest point on the Hardrock run route, Handies Peak, standing at an elevation of 14,058' above sea level. I reached the summit in 2:36, meeting two Hardrockers at the top we had a long pleasant conversation about the upcoming race and the race in years past.

Handies from Gizzly Gulch.

Departing the summit of Handies I was able to run all the way down to to Burrows Park. Running the Cinnamon Pass road, a nice gentlemen stopped and offered me some gels, cliff bars and Doritos. Calculating the sodium content of each I took a huge handful of Doritos and started walking down the road. Folks in passing cars smiled and waved at the gentlemen walking the road with the orange hands and orange ring around his mouth. The gentlemen waved back enthusiastically.

The 2600' climb up Cataract Gulch was slow. Most of the elevation is gained quickly and then the trail flattens out for several miles as it slowly climbed to the continental divide.

On the far side of Pole Creek the elevation was lost even slower. The section is pleasantly mellow and running the entire trail was possible. The scenery changed abruptly from steep, rocky, loose valleys and peaks to mellow, wide, grassy valleys with meadows in the bottoms and rounded peaks standing above. The ease of travel in this terrain makes for a tangled web of trails which caused confusion in the vicinity of the Pole Creek Aid Station. I spent about 35 minutes tromping around the meadows and hills looking for the spot by the lake where the Aid Station would lie. All I found was a dried up mud hole where the lake should have been. The trails and location of the Aid Station at Pole Creek remain to be seen.

Ominous looking clouds but ultimately just a tease.

The final climb up to Maggie-Pole Pass was long. Mostly because the trail doesn't really gain any altitude for about 1.5 miles. Though running up the West Fork of Pole Creek seemed endless it was broken up by the small herd of 15 or so Elk on the other side of the basin. I could have sworn I heard a male bugling. Isn't it too early?

Pulling over the summit of the endless climb that is Maggie-Pole pass, I was greeted with another climb as the route continues along the ridge for several hundred feet before leveling and then plunging toward the Maggie Aid Station at the end of the 4WD road. Because the directions could use some updating in this area I gave up trying to find a trail used by the Hardrock in past years and beelined it to my end point of the day.

Arriving at my truck I grabbed my can of Chef Boyardee Ravioli and Coke that I had stashed and replenished did my best to replenish my lost salt. This was my final long run, three weeks before the race, marking the start of my taper period. What a relief. I could use a rest!

The Pemi Loop

Like most of my long runs I try to schedule them for days with good weather. I check the weather forecast daily until a day with sun and pleasant temps is forecast. As the day approaches I check for updates on the weather almost hourly in anticipation for the optimal time to run.

I like the idea of running the Pemigewasset Loop on my Birthday - June 7th. This would be my 31st birthday and some mileage estimates put the Pemi Loop's mileage at 31. It seemed appropriate. The weather forecast made it look possible right up through the the evening of June 6th. At 5:30am on the anniversary of my birth I woke up, checked the forecast one last time, and was shocked out of bed by possibilities of rain and thundershowers. Just 5 hours earlier it had been sun and nice temperatures for running.

I rushed out of bed and out the door without eating. I felt like grabbing something on the way would be more time efficient as I would need every minute possible of daylight if the weather were to be rainy. Rain makes for slick footing in New England. The algae and moss that grows on rocks making up the trail becomes slippery the second it become wet. It causes a person with a conservative running style to slow down dramatically. I was running alone and needed to be running conservatively.

Running along the Pemigewasset River.

I arrived, clothed and prepped myself, and was on the trail for 8:00am. I had chosen to do the loop the counter-clockwise way, running the 4.7 mile section of abandoned rail first, rather than at the end of a long climbing day. I covered it quickly and was starting the climb up my first climb (Bondcliff 4265') within 49 minutes of departure. I was struck by how nice the Bondcliff trail actually was once it really started to ascend. Below that one steep section the trail was washed out and loose and slow going. It would have been much easier to descend. Probably why many folks do the traverse in the opposite direction.

Looking back at Bondcliff from Bond.

The summit of Bondcliff was pleasantly exposed. I had hiked this peak about a decade ago but could did not remember it. It was probably socked in that day. The run up to Bond (4698') went well. The weather was holding in there and I could see all of the peaks of the loop were not shrouded in clouds at all. Still I quickened my pace. In the mountains sometimes speed is safety.

A nice view from Galehead Hut.

The trail took a lot of concentration to keep up a strong pace. If I let my mind start to zone out into daydream land (a place I usually like to go on trail runs) I would slow my pace to a quick walk. I kept having to remind myself to step it up. The trail junctions came and went and soon I was at the summit of South Twin (4902') looking down the 1,100', 0.8 mile decent to Galehead Hut. The decent went slower than I had imagined. much of the ledge was steep and very slick, causing me to stop often and figure the best moves down to the next island of safety. It was slow going and I arrived at the Galehead Hut at 4:11 elapsed time some 15 miles into the 31.9 mile traverse.

I filled up on the only water that does not need to be treated and hit the trail again, noting the darkening clouds and intermittent sprinkles threatening to ruin my mood. There is one place on the loop I would consider bailing out to avoid a storm. Taking the Franconia Brook Trail would be only slightly shorter than running the remainder of the ridge but it would take me to the valley floor and level out - a much safer place in a thunder storm. By my appointed bail out point I had heard no thunder but the rain had dampened my mood a little. The decision to continue was difficult. If I continued out the Garfield Ridge there was nowhere to go but to the exposed summit of Lafayette (5260') or turn around. The turn around would make my run much longer but easier. I didn't like the thought of having to turn around. Still I made the decision to run the ridge and I am glad I did.

My memory of the Garfield Ridge Trail was that it was a lonely, long and rough stretch of trail. Of these only the rough seemed accurate on this day. Hikers came with great regularity through this section and time passed relatively quickly. Before I knew it I was running up the six false summits of Lafayette. Thank goodness I had remembered the false summits as I would have been mentally drained by the time I had finally gained the summit if I had not.

Looking down at Greenleaf hut (on the left)

and the top of Cannon Cliff to the right of it.

Looking back at Garfield Ridge in the middle of a shower.

Franconia Ridge.

I had one last shower on the flanks of Lafayette and then the sun came out for my cruise of the Franconia Ridge. It couldn't have been better timed. The concentration of people is much higher on the Franconia Ridge and I passed people left and right on my gradual descent by Lincoln (5089'), Liberty (4459'), and Flume (4328'). It was nice seeing people on my Flume as it marked the end of the summits and the start of my final decent. They were doing the Presi Traverse the following week and were out doing a training hike. We had some good laughs over very little and parted.

The decent down the Osseo Trail was painful but I was happy to finally drop out onto the Lincoln Woods trail for the final flat run out to the truck. I ran at a 7:45 pace for the last 1.5 miles to the truck and hit the stop on my stopwatch - 10:26.