Monthly Archives: April 2011

NYC Draft Results

27 Wednesday Apr 2011

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There are a lot of benefits to not being selected in the NYC Marathon draft.  I’ll be saving some serious coin.  I’ll have more vacation time to apply to Thanksgiving and Christmas.  But mostly, I won’t have to run another marathon this year.  Pretty sure I’m done with marathons for 2011.

If I do another 26.2 mile run this year, it’ll be either the Denver Marathon, which I really enjoyed last year.  Or the Boulder Marathon, since it’s local and I’ve never run it.  But I only care to run a few more organized runs this year.  They aren’t cheap.  And I want to focus more on trail runs than road races.  The only two runs on my radar are one in Vail and one in Aspen.  Both are half marathons on mountain trails.  So I’m not exactly disappointed at the results of today’s draft.

CT Cronica: slEd dog emerges

24 Sunday Apr 2011

Posted by in Colorado Trail

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Saturday starts Friday.  As you print out maps of directions to the Long Gulch Trailhead and google nearby restaurants, your mind is on the trail early.  During drinks and brats later that evening, your neighbor friends ask you about the next morning’s hike and you detail the area around Hwy 285 and Kenosha Pass.  You return home after 9pm and assemble your gear.  You expect snow so you load up.  Saturday, you wake a bit earlier than for other hikes since you need to drive further than previous segments.  You’re out the door by 5:30 am – driving through falling snow.  Vics doesn’t open for another half hour so you figure you’ll grab a coffee in Aspen Park.

After turning off 470 onto Hwy 285, you call your mom at 6am.  You call her most Saturdays although not this early, but there won’t be any other opportunity today.  Besides, it’s 7am her time and old people get up early.  She’s crying.  She’s too weak to talk, but says enough.  She tells you her doctor setup a visit for her with a Pulmonary doctor for Wednesday.  The steroids aren’t working anymore and she has to stop them due to the side effects.  The doctor told her she needs to make plans.  You want to cry too but you don’t.  A few minutes after you hang up, with your mind wandering, you feel all four tires lose traction.

Your Honda Accord is no longer gripping the road, there’s no point in steering.  You remove your foot from the accelerator, and although you don’t move the steering wheel, you keep your hand on it with a light touch.  You’re drifting toward the median, which is a small ditch between your two lanes and the two oncoming lanes.  You feel the car spinning and figure it’s ok as long as it keeps sliding along on your side of the ditch.  You spin 180 degrees and are now sliding backwards, but still on the road.  Your speed has slowed marginally but you feel you are continuing to spin.  You turn the wheel a bit to reverse the spin but that doesn’t work.  You feel yourself drifting toward the ditch in the median, and the car is continuing to spin.  You nudge the car a bit in the direction of its spin thinking you might be able to handle the ditch if you’re facing forward down the hill.  The ditch is covered in snow and probably grass so you might gain traction.  You don’t really know but you just want to get turned around because driving backwards – whether in control or not – is never good.  The nudge works to accelerate the spin without over-correcting and you’ve now spun 360 degrees and are still in your lane.  But now you’re drifting towards the right side of the road which has a similarly sized ditch after the shoulder, and is bordered by a tall rocky cliff.   That’ll leave a mark.

Your car is slowing but still sliding and you need to decide whether to turn and accelerate out of the ditch, or let the car ride into the ditch.  Important decision but less critical now that you’re not facing a slide into on-coming traffic.  Turning against the slide didn’t work earlier, and accelerating out of a spin only works in the movies.  You don’t make an immediate decision; instead you watch as you slowly slide into the cliff wall.  You’re saved by the fact that the car is still spinning, and you give the wheel another nudge to accelerate the spin.  It works and you’re again facing backwards – a full 540 degrees of spin – with maybe 10 feet still remaining between your driver’s side door and the cliff.  This last spin slows the car and it comes to a near rest without you ever having touched the brakes – which you now apply for a full stop.  The car’s nose is pointed against traffic and slightly lower than its rear.  You first try backing out but the tires spin, so you leverage the weight of the car and drive forward out of the ditch.  As soon as you’re back on the road, you see the semi bearing down on you in your rear view mirror.  You punch the accelerator and risk losing traction again.  A mile later you pull into the King Soopers in Aspen Park for some coffee.  The car is fine, you’re a wreck.

The remaining drive to Kenosha Pass is slow and dangerous.  The plows are out and you hope the roads are safer when you drive home.  You see Tumbleweed in his car at the junction of Hwy 285 and Lost Park Road (forest road 56).  He asks if you’re still up for this given the weather.  Yes, you are.  You’re not you anymore.  Your trail spirit began a segment or two ago to take the shape of a trail dog and now you’re Sled Dog.  You can’t quite remember all the reasons this is your trail name, but you just know it’s the right trail spirit for you.  Your trail persona will fully emerge in today’s 16.6 mile slog through ice and snow.

You dressed well for the snowfall – or as you refer to such spring snow showers –  a Colorado slow rain.  You strap on Yaktrax over your La Sportiva trail shoes.  Above that you’ve already attached your REI Gators.  For leggings you have on Nike Dri-fit running shorts and a pair of Under Armour tights.  You layer two shirts – first a thin nylon type of Under Armour Heat Gear and second a thicker Under Armour All Weather Gear.  Gloves, fleece skull cap and a light jacket complete your ensemble.  You have extra dry clothes in your pack.  You start off running.  It’s a gradual uphill.  The video below captures the start of segment 4.

You rest after about a mile and a half and evaluate your clothing.  Tumbleweed removes a cotton sweatshirt and vents his snow pants.  After starting off a bit chilly, both of you have warmed up a great deal.  You tuck your jacket into your pack and keep everything else on.  For the rest of the run, all you’ll ever change are your hat and gloves – pulling them off and on again numerous times.  Once again, you demonstrate experience with a good call on gear.

But you credit a trail spirit with your best call of the day.  Your Yaktrax have been gathering clods of snow and intermittently scraping the snow balls from the soles of your feet is annoying.  You hear Gadget Girl tell you a story from another run where she developed an acute injury from running with clumps of snow under the arches of her shoes.  You listen and you remove the YakTrax.  You knock off the snow and ice against a metal sign on a tree.  To their credit, the treads are extremely light and fit easily into your pack.

Like last week, this trail seems to forever be climbing uphill.  Combined with the snow, which is fresh powder and seemingly deeper, running becomes difficult and you walk large portions.  When you’re finally running downhill, it surprises and hurts your quads.  You don’t know the terrain under the snow.  Rocks are dangerous and holes elicit grunts of unanticipated pain.  This is fairly slow downhill running by your normal standards.

  Eventually, you gain momentum and begin to soar downhill, but it ends suddenly with a wipe-out where both of you lose your legs to the snow covered ice.

Slogging through deep snow wears on you and the day has become long.  It took several hours to pass through a 7 mile valley – or Long-assed Gulch as you’ll call it from now on.  You refer to the trek as the Nebraska Expedition because the blowing snow and your fatigue made scenery appear black and white and you were reminded of a Bruce Springsteen album.  As the trail begins to slope upward again, you put your YakTrax back on.  The timing of that gear change-up is perfect as the snow and ice are continuous and the trail mostly cuts across a steep slope with significant exposure to a downhill tumble. 

The sky might be clearing but there’s still not enough sun to know what time of day it is without looking at your iPhone clock.  You’ve been running for four hours and are on pace to finish in about six hours.  Man, two more hours of intermittent, soul-crushing post-holing.  You’re starving.  You stop and eat an uncelebrated power bar.  You want real food.  The final miles are entirely lead by Tumbleweed as you can’t see the trail; partly because your sunglasses are too dark and partly because you don’t have the experience to even see it covered in snow.

Because you’re walking much more of this trail than previous segments, you talk more with Tumbleweed.  You converse about Easter, your mom, your harrowing drive, and about how these are really just the foothills to the CT.  Tumbleweed considers the foothills to end on the western side of highway 285 – on segment 6 where you’ll cross the Continental Divide.  Segment 6 is over 30 miles.  You make that and you’re getting a tattoo.  Or something.

You’re fairly amazed with yourself for nearly completing 4 segments of the CT in April.  You say nearly because today’s hike isn’t yet finished.  Tumbleweed says most hikers don’t start until much later, some as late as June.  But those are hikers who take it straight through.  Five weeks of non-stop hiking.  His plan though is to run the segments on weekends.  And you hope to participate in as much of it as you can.  Your plans initially were to just do the first segment or two, but now you’re hooked.  You’re seriously considering running the entire CT now.  In fact, you can’t imagine not doing the segments along the Collegiate Peaks.  Of course there’s no visibility today from the snow, but you’re not even close to where the good views begin.

You’re on the final stretch to the Long Gulch Trailhead.  The trail is steep here and you serpentine downward.  The switchbacks are hard to see in the powder but Tumbleweed has the eyes of a hawk and has guided you through 16 miles of snow covered trail.  You shuffle into the trail head exhausted.  Once again, you agree to stop at the first place you see that appears open for lunch.

This turns out to be the Coney Island Hot Dog Stand in Bailey.  You’re hungry and nothing sounds better than a dog or burger.  You enter into a place out of time.  You’re suddenly in a ’50s or ’60s boardwalk style diner.

You order onion rings, an Elk Jalapeno Dog, a chili cheese burger and Diet Coke.  You eat the onion rings while the rest of your order is prepared.  The place is actually packed and the only free seating is outside – which is nice.  You attack the Elk Jalapeno Dog first.  When you are this starved for calories, the flavor of food is elevated to the extreme and you ravish your plate.  While eating you discuss plans for the remainder of the CT.  A lot remains – over 400 miles in 24 segments.

Tumbleweed would like to complete the trail in September.  This means you’ll need to double up the shorter segments and start camping the nights as Tumbleweed does now.  You determine to work out a schedule to make this happen.  You didn’t have summer plans a month ago, but now you’re committed to run as much of this trail as possible with Tumbleweed.  Each segment is such an intense experience.  Today will be remembered for trudging through the snow.  Many times you were knee deep in stale, crunchy powder.  It’s safe to expect more days like today as you’ll be chasing the snow melt.  You learned the value of wearing gators.  They not only keep snow out of your shoes, they keep your shins warm.  You’ve already learned a great deal about proper gear.  A small tent might be your next purchase.

Tumbleweed drives you to your car and you part ways.  Your next get together will be segment 5, and your last trek along the CT foothills of Hwy 285.  You call your sister driving home to talk about your mom.  Sandy just spoke with her and she’s feeling much better.

Trail Runner

21 Thursday Apr 2011

Posted by in Running, Storytelling

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The picture to the left is of a good friend, Rob Graham, and me heading out in the morning to complete our two day hike to the summit of Pikes Peak.  This was in 2009 and is the year Rob got me into hiking and ultimately trail running.  Partly because Rob got me back into shape with healthy recreation, and partly because he really is a master hiker in terms of experience, but mostly because Rob goes by various trail names and promotes his personal creed of health and fitness which lends him a spiritual quality – I oftentimes refer to him as my Guide (uppercase “G”).  It’s pretty cool to have a Guide and it costs me nothing.

Two years later, we’re running the Colorado Trail.  There’s of course some walking, but it’s mostly running.  And I can’t think of any hobby I enjoy more.  I fell in love with trail running on the Barton Creek Greenbelt in Austin over 20 years ago.  There are so many qualities that make trails stand out as exceptional environments for a run or workout.  For me, it’s the surface itself.  I love the focused footfalls that the trail, rocks, hills, cliffs, snow, and creeks require.  It’s almost impossible to day dream about work or fantasize about anything at all.  Maybe some people find this sort of escape doing puzzles or collecting stamps.  For me, the trail – especially when running versus walking – takes complete focus.  And such focus is the quintessential escape.

We’ll be running the 16.6 miles of segment 4 of the Colorado Trail this Saturday.  Snow and or rain is expected.  That’ll add a little something to the experience.  I feel extremely fortunate to be able to run these trails on weekends.  Grateful for my health and lucky to have Karen’s support to take off for the day.  This is shaping up to be an epic summer.

CT Cronica: A Twofer

11 Monday Apr 2011

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You just ran 24 miles this Saturday morning.  So far this winter, that makes 1 marathon, 2 half marathons, and 40 miles of the Colorado Trail – because where you come from it’s not spring ’till Easter.  You meet up with your ‘ole trail buddy A Lo Hawk about 8 miles east of Bailey.  Except he’s changed his trail moniker now to Tumbleweed.  You’re still working on your trail name while he’s on his 3rd.  New trail, new trail name.  To your knowledge, only Guides can change trail names like that, so Tumbleweed must be a Guide.  You’ll refer to him as Tumbleweed at times, and as Guide at others.  Before this hike got too far along, you collected the trail name, Sled Dog.

Like segment 1, you got up early and picked up a 20 oz coffee at Vics before heading down Hwy 287 at 6am.  90 minutes later you were at what would be the end of the hike, at the Rolling Creek trailhead ending segment 3.  You leave your car here and drive with Tumbleweed to the start of today’s hike/run at the South Platte River trailhead marking segment 2.  You stop half way though to drop off food and water at the Little Scraggy trailhead – hiding a cooler behind a tree.  This is a brilliant plan to avoid having to carry so much weight.  Today’s CT endeavor will consist of both the 11.3 mile segment 2, and the 12.7 mile segment 3 – two epic adventures in one.  A twofer.

Epic I begins with the climb.  The pic to the right of Tumbleweed standing on dramatically slanted ground is not a trick camera angle – that’s the slope.  You run when you can but you probably walk here as much as anywhere during the entire day.  Out of 24 miles, you might have walked 4 of them.  Probably less.  You come to learn that you have to run the inclines when possible because there isn’t much else and you’d like to finish before sundown.  You adapt your running form to the up-slope shuffle.

This climb is a marathon unto itself.  Seemingly endless, you feel your calves strain to a bursting point until saved by numbness.  You believe you might be nearing the top as the trees thin and the sun becomes bright.  You remove your top shirt – the blue Moab high-tech racing t-shirt.  You still wear your long-sleeve Under Armour all weather gear because the early morning air is chilly and there’s a slight breeze, although you roll up the sleeves.

The mix of cold air and searing sun is climate you strongly associate with the Colorado mountains.  One of your favorite dichotomies.  Dressing properly for it requires experience and a bit of luck.  You can’t control the weather, and you don’t know what temperature variances to expect as you rise in elevation.  Pockets of cold air drop on you as you rise up the trail and feel as thick as liquid.  But you have good gear and the single shirt serves as the perfect shield.

The never-ending climb appears to reach a summit.  This appears several times from what turn out to be false hopes.  You count these as humps.  After many humps, you ultimately summit the apex of this climb.  The view isn’t what you expect.  You’re overlooking the Buffalo Creek Fire of ’96.

  The view could be depressing, but it’s not.  It’s eerie but interesting.  Even beautiful, but overwhelmingly dead.  You wonder if later you’ll encounter a cadaverous herd of animals slaughtered by the fire.

You survey the burned out valley below.  Treeless, you easily spot the trail as it drops into the valley before you and rises on the opposite side – crossing this deceased hollow.  You enjoy a good rest at this summit, replenishing food and water.  And you replace your long-sleeve shirt with the short-sleeve Moab jersey.  The blood is flowing strong enough through your veins now that you consider running shirtless – but the wind suggests otherwise.  Tumbleweed led the entire climb.  He’s simply so much stronger than you on trails and you appreciate his pace setting.  You lead as you start back down the other side into the Buffalo Creek Fire.

You’d been climbing for so long that your downhill muscles are atrophied and it takes awhile to warm-up.  You go slow on steep sections but speed up as the grade flattens.  The scenery is surreal.  You run through a huge swath of forest – miles of burned down tree stumps  enveloped in new grasses.  But the grass is dead too from the winter.  This would be something to see in the spring as the grasses turn green.

The occasional blooming cactus flower causes you to pause to admire and take a pic. Segment 2 of the CT has been as absent of fellow hikers and bikers as the first segment.  You finally encounter people as you near the Little Scraggy trailhead.  The first person is a lone woman biker.  Both athletic and attractive, she resembles Erika Nepolitano.  As far as you know, she might be the Redhead Writer herself as Erika is known for her local mountain climbing exploits.  Doubtful though as this lady doesn’t drop any F bombs.  You chat for a minute on the trail and continue onward – into a virtual thicket of human activity at the trailhead.  You’ve reached the end of segment 2 and search for your stash of food and drinks.

This is a much needed rest.  You sit down to eat and drink.  The 11 miles felt like a marathon and took 3 hours.  For the first time, you try protein drinks.  Probably smart.  You drink Muscle Milk – although it states it isn’t milk.  And if it contained a drop of lactose, you wouldn’t be drinking it.  It’s chocolate milk as far as you know and it goes down like dessert.  Yum.  Another drink you try for the first time is Venom Mojave Rattler.  You discover it’s lightly carbonated and don’t finish it.  You also leave it behind as the can is fairly hefty.

You start back up for the remaining 12.7 miles.  The trail is gorgeous and you understand why it’s popular for mountain bikers.  It’s nice to be in trees again after having traversed Buffalo Creek Fire.  You note the thick bark over-growing the old CT trail signs.  You expect to walk much of the second half – epic II.  But you start off running, shuffling really.  Segment 3 appears to contain more rolling hills than segment 2.  There’s some decent downhills where you gather momentum.

But there’s also as much uphill climbs.  Your uphill running form improves with repetition, although it’s a very short-stride shuffle.  You know you won’t ever finish if you don’t run the climbs along with the easy stuff.  It’s a relentless slog to the finish.

Epic II is continuous.  You’re surprised to find yourself running it with so little walking, but it’s a slow run.  The shuffle.  The trail is extremely well groomed and easy to follow. It’s this amazing splendor, knowing how fortunate you are to be in these woods, that keeps you from thinking of your aching calves and tender feet.  You have pain everywhere from your toes to your hips, but you’re mostly oblivious to it.  You are however thinking of lunch.  You’re tired of trail food and want something real.  After forever, Tumbleweed begins to recognize the trail from where he camped out the night before.  You’re nearing the end.  It’s downhill and you finish strong.  You pop off your backpack and stumble on your walking legs.  You’re done in more ways than one.

On the ride to pick up your cooler at Little Scraggy trailhead and Tumbleweed’s car at the South Platte trailhead, you think and talk a great deal about your hunger and where you’ll find a decent restaurant out here.  The run took you 6 hours and 45 minutes, so it’s no longer lunch – it’s dinner.  It makes sense to turn right at Buffalo Creek onto Hwy 126 toward Hwy 285.  There will be plenty of choices once you reach the larger highway.  But halfway there, nestled among one of the prettiest valleys in Colorado, you come upon Zoka’s Restaurant & Bar in Pine Grove.  Your rule is to stop at the first place that looks open, and here the parking lot is full.  And for good reason.  This place earns no less than 3 Puerco Pibil awards.  One for the beer.  The owner Kurt has blended Maharaja and Avery IPA for what he calls a Maharipa.  Other than a Black and Tan, who does that?  This beer is punchy and spirited.  Outstanding!  The second award goes for the salsa.  You don’t know what Kurt did for this but the tomatoes in this dish must be God’s tomatoes.  Actually, they might be black heirlooms.  The salsa isn’t hot, but it has the absolute best flavor imaginable.  The third award goes for your dinner, a Zoka burger.  OMG!  The Kobe beef was infused with a triple cream brie.  You ordered it rare with the flesh seared and it was cooked perfectly.  It came with sauteed onions that added a sweetness on top of the satisfying cheesiness.  This burger could compete with any in the world for the most delicious sandwich ever.  If you ever find yourself sporting around the Colorado trails of Buffalo Creek and Pine Grove again, you plan to stop by Zokas.  Shoot, this place is worth driving out of your way for.

Intervals

10 Sunday Apr 2011

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After running my first track workout in decades, it occurs to me I don’t really know how to run intervals anymore.  Or more specifically, how to understand their measurements.  So writing this is as much thinking out loud as anything and I’ll take feedback.  I’ll reiterate my splits below from my earlier post on timing.

Q1: 1:43 rest 2:15     Q2 1:59 rest 2:20     Q3 1:43 rest 2:29     Q4 1:44 rest 2:26     Q5 1:42 rest 2:26     Q6 1:40 rest 1 mile cool down

These intervals consist of 400 meters each, or what I nostalgically refer to as quarters.  And it was quite nostalgic stepping back out onto the track.  I ran these quarters at Niwot HS – a gorgeous setting with mountain views.  I warmed up with a mile around the track.  I used the default clock app on my iPhone in stopwatch mode to track the splits.  I simply hit the split button so it recorded my rest intervals along with my quarters.  I couldn’t tell how fast I was running and had to wait until I got home to read the times.  It was a bit awkward but not so much given how slow I was running.  I estimate my iPhone weighs about as much as a relay baton.

The first trick was determining how fast to run.  The idea of intervals is to run some fraction of race pace – somewhere between 75% and 90%.  My legs have forgotten how to run fast and so I kept it pretty slow.  Part of what I want from this exercise is to relearn fast running form.  And the last thing I want is to strain a muscle.  I don’t really know but I feel like I was running at 75% race effort – had the race been a single quarter.  Which is to say I believe I could run a quarter in 75 seconds.  I’m sort of curious if I really can.  I’ve no doubt that if I keep up these workouts, perhaps once a week for a month or so, that I could run a 75 second quarter.  Once I’m confident my body has adapted to running fast and I won’t injure myself, I’m going to run one balls out to see what I can do.

What you can’t see in these splits is my form.  I was learning.  The second quarter was a struggle and you see it in the time as it was my slowest.  I think I was tired from the first quarter and didn’t focus on form, perhaps it might be that I ran my first rest interval too fast.  But after that, I paid attention to my arm swing and stride length.  I wish I was a little further along but I really am starting with the basics of track running.  It should pay dividends in the Bolder Boulder.  Per my 2011 roadmap, I am devoting 2 months to developing speed for the year.  After the Bolder Boulder, I’ll return my focus to trail running and distance.

The purpose of running intervals is to see if you can repeat the fast runs consistently after a controlled rest period.  And you want to be less than fully recovered before you start the fast run again.  Even though you start-up again before your heart is back at rest, you feel ok after 50 to 100 yards.  In a quarter that is.  If you’re running mile intervals, it takes longer.  It’s a pretty cool feeling though.  You start running with this heavy feeling and then it’s as if your heart rate catches up with your body’s needs.  I like intervals.  I still remember running mile intervals in cross country at Texas State.  I could run 6 of them in the 4:40s.  That was such a kick.

I don’t know if I should place more emphasis on lowering my rest interval or my quarter pace over the next several weeks.  I feel that since I am trying to work on my form, I should look to lower my quarter pace and keep the rest interval consistent.  Once my legs and gut are strong enough, I can try to reduce the rest interval.  But currently, there isn’t a tremendous variance between the two – only a little over a half minute.  It should be a good minute.  I would like to see my quarter dip below 90 seconds before I try to reduce my rest interval.

I’ve thought about running distances other than the quarter.  I believe I should keep it basic and consistent though before I try to mix things up.  I need to learn my pace before I try a medley interval with quarters, half miles and miles.  I’ll search some running blogs for ideas.  I read Runner’s World and it usually contains some training advice.  But I’d like feedback on my plans.  So please comment.

Timing

09 Saturday Apr 2011

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Timing’s everything. Checkout these two pics of my run in the Boulder Half Marathon. You might have to click on them to see this, but both feet are off the ground in each shot. It’s the same spot, the one with gloves is 2 miles out and the one without gloves is with 2 miles left. So same lucky cameraman I assume. The first pic has me stunned as I am running uphill, and considering I’m running so slow the odds of that photographer catching two shots of me airborne are unreal. The dude has some incredible timing.

See the chic a step behind me at the finish in the 3rd pic? I put on a small surge at the end. I looked up her results from her bib number 1655. Her name is Caolan MacMahon. Turns out she is in the same age division as me – for women of course – but the really amazing thing is she ran only 3 seconds slower than me. I finished 241st overall, Caolan finished 242nd. Sort of rare to finish so close to someone who ran essentially the same pace, considering you both could have started anywhere apart from one another in the pack. We must have started standing fairly close to one another. I spent a full minute in a port-a-potty at mile 4, and ran the second half of the race 4 minutes faster than the first; she ran the second half 1.5 minutes faster than her first half. We even registered at nearly the same time as our bib numbers are only 4 digits off. Weird timing.

I ran my first track workout of the season today. Technically, my first track workout in about 25 years. I ran 6 quarters, which is to say I ran 6 loops around the track at 75% full speed and maintained a controlled rest interval in between. I used a 1 loop jog as my rest interval, and recorded the pace of that along with the quarters themselves.

1 mile warm up

Q1: 1:43 rest 2:15

Q2 1:59 rest 2:20

Q3 1:43 rest 2:29

Q4 1:44 rest 2:26

Q5 1:42 rest 2:26

Q6 1:40 rest 1 mile cool down

Maybe I’ll post another blog on some of the granular details of those splits after I’ve analyzed them. Just getting them published for now before I reset the stopwatch app on my iPhone. Or better yet, to any coaches reading this, feel free to comment. I don’t normally time myself. I don’t wear a watch, not even in road race events. I used to have such a good feel for my pace that I didn’t need to. I’ve lost that inner timer though and I’m using timing now as a tool to relearn my experience. After a quick look at the splits, I find the timing interesting for several reasons. My splits are oddly even for both the quarters and the rest intervals. That’s not surprising on the rest, I’m jogging around the track at a standard pace. It is surprising that my quarters are so even considering I’ve forgotten how to run interval workouts. Then, notice that the 2nd quarter is the most off from the others. If I recall, this is not unusual even for experienced runners. It must be a norm. Although I think more in-shape athletes tend to run the second quarter as their fastest rather than their slowest. That’s because the first quarter serves as a warm-up of sorts. And then they, as you, settle into a pattern. Synchronous timing.

Timing is everywhere. It’s timing when they tell you your baby will be on the waiting list to receive a new heart for 4 to 6 months – and that’s how long it takes for another one year old baby boy to make his little heart available to Lil L. It’s timing when Susan comes home a day early from the week of work in Austin for a date night – courtesy the grandparents – and that puts her in bed with her husband when they receive the call at 2am letting them know the heart is being flown to Hobby International. It’s timing when Lil L’s sad heart varies wildly in rhythm, and his new heart – after it’s been disconnected from the machines and is organically part of the living Lil L – beats solid, steady and even. God’s timing.

CT Cronica: Green Chili

08 Friday Apr 2011

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“Really?  Thank God!”  You land at the trail head after a seriously steep serpentine and even though you knew you were nearing the end of the trail, it seems sudden nonetheless.  Finishing up a 16 miler requires adjustment.  You stretch on the rail leading to the bridge.  Others are standing on it taking pictures, so you drift down to the river itself.  The shallow torrent is as cold as it is clear, and you proceed to souse your head.  You feel the mountain water cleanse layers of sweat soaked sunscreen from your face and scalp.  This river bath is the ultimate cool down.

Refreshed, you join A Lo Hawk sitting on the river bank.  A Lo Hawk notes you completed the 16 mile trail in under three and a half hours.  You’re not quite completing full sentences yet and mumble a response.  You are ready now to eat your sandwich.  You take a couple of bites, but it’s stale so you decide to save your appetite for a more formal lunch.  The two of you reach consensus that you’ll stop at the first place you pass on the ride back that appears open.  You sit long enough for your heart rate to calm down, and you think about returning to this trail head in two weeks to begin the second segment of the CT.  You remove your socks and shoes, showing A Lo Hawk your splintered toe nail.  He’s impressed by this but then you admit it was already cracked before slamming it into that rock a few minutes earlier.  You’re both really hungry so you get in the car and leave without ceremony.  You chat during the drive about other occurrences  that drift back to memory.  Most notably, you’re both amazed you just completed 16 miles without running into a single hiker.  What are the odds of that?  Enchanted forest indeed.  The parking lot was fairly full at the ending trail head, so where is everyone?

Sprucewood Inn on Hwy 67 at the intersection of Pine Creek Road is the first place and there is no question about it being open.  A dozen vehicles are parked outside.  You enter with the expectation of it being the best restaurant ever because the sign said beer and you are thirsty.  There’s outdoor seating, a beer garden of sorts, and you decide that’s where you’ll sit given the bright sunshine and unseasonably warm weather.  The bartender says you’ll need to order from the bar as she is too busy to wait on patrons sitting outside.  That’s fine.  You order a bottled beer – there is no tap – water, and the green chili.  A Lo Hawk orders the same beer and a burrito.

You sit outside with your beer and water and appreciate what a fantastic trail run you just completed, what an incredible day it is, and how fortunate you are to have shared this experience with a good friend.  You recall the trail chat you had on tattoos.  A Lo Hawk commemorated his PCT and AT hikes with specific designs around his ankles.  For the first time ever, you could see yourself doing something similar if you were to complete the entire CT from Denver to Durango.  It’s not likely you’ll complete the entire trail, but it doesn’t hurt to think about it.

The bartender brings out your food and you dig in.  You’re reminded of the scene in Once Upon a Time in Mexico where Johnny Depp eats the best puerco pibil he’s ever had, and he’s compelled to go into the kitchen to shoot the chef dead.  Good movie.  This is absolutely the best green chili you ever ate.  Hands down the best, and you’ve eaten some good shit.  The neighborhood’s annual chili cook-off has produced some outrageous green chili.  Your friend Dave, raised in New Mexico, makes some tasty green chili with lamb and pork seasoned in bacon.  But this is the best in the world.  And it’s located 10 miles west of Sedalia.  The Sprucewood Inn is worth a return visit.  And so is the Colorado Trail.

CT Cronica: Ultra

07 Thursday Apr 2011

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You might have started off leading this final leg, you don’t remember.  If you did, A Lo Hawk passed you at some point.  He’s ahead of you with hopefully only a few miles remaining when your feet begin to hurt and you reconsider promoting your shoes with a blog link.  This run brings forth memories of the Imogene Pass Run last September.  The bad part of the IPR – miles 8 and 9 leading up to the peak.  The only thing that kept you running then was the pressure of not forcing the runner behind you, whom you knew was likely to be feeling as tired as you, to have to pass you.  That trail didn’t provide the ability for runners to easily pass, and so you felt obligated to maintain your position and pace.  The CT at this point actually widens to double track, so you run alongside A Lo Hawk.  But that is short lived, you mostly fall behind – even when walking although there isn’t much of that.  The first 4 quarters feel like they were yesterday – this is the ultra quarter.

At some point you carry on a conversation with A Lo Hawk.  Talking is much more rare now too.  One of your chats covers the topic of falling.  You’ve only taken a couple of spills your entire life – both on trails.  The conversation foreshadows a near fall.  You slam the big toe of your right foot into a trail rock so hard you nearly hit the ground.  You scream loud enough to cause A Lo Hawk to turn around.  You don’t know if you were injured, you keep running.  But it hurts.  Bad.  You imagine it as a bloody stub, but the pain gradually subsides and is replaced with the misery afflicted to the soles of your feet which have become tenderized flesh.

It once again occurs to you that you are wearing the right shoes.  The thing about trail running shoes is they have a glob of rubber on the front, not unlike a car bumper.  These shoes re-earned their way back onto honorable mention in your blog.  That bumper clearly saved your big toe from destruction.  Thank you, La Sportiva.  Once you sufficiently recover from the pain and fear of toe loss, you find it ironic, almost irritating, that like the two falls you’d related to A Lo Hawk, this occurred in the last mile of your run.  But that’s probably not coincidence.  No doubt, the end of any run is when you are weakest and most likely to stumble.  Good reason to slow for a cool down.  And A Lo Hawk certainly is shuffling along the trail much slower these last miles.  The final downhill leg resembles the IPR’s 7 mile drop into Telluride.  As was the case then, A Lo Hawk’s and your quads are too weak to push it in.

Upon seeing the trail head, marked by an iron and wood foot bridge crossing the South Platte River, you are ready to simply walk it in.  And A Lo Hawk feigningly slows to meet your expectations.  But then you hear him mumble something and with renewed vigor he kicks in the final stretch.  This is fairly impressive considering the steepness of the trail here, but you feel more like penalizing him for the pitcher’s balk.  Your mind was set for walking, and you almost did.  Instead, you finish the trail running, as you had done for 16 miles; but without any pretense of strength by kicking.  You finish up slow as if running a cool down.  Much like you did during the last half mile of your most recent half marathon.

CT Cronica: Enchanted Forest

06 Wednesday Apr 2011

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The 4th quarter is at least the start of the second half of the course distance-wise.  You’ve certainly gone over 10 miles by now.  A Lo Hawk begins slowly although a bit faster than you would have.  But you loosen up and begin to enjoy the look and feel of the trail.  You appreciate having discarded your second top shirt.  It’s almost odd how the air retains some iciness – you feel it in the ring of sweat around your head below your cap.  And yet you feel the warmth of the sun too.  Outstanding running conditions for both weather and scenery.

You enter into some heavier woods.  The sun continues to splash through the leaves as you enter but soon becomes hidden above the canopy.  You’ve warmed up and don’t need the sun but you experience a new level of fatigue.  Your running form is fine, but your mind is now wandering as much as it would if you were running alone.  You allow gaps between you and A Lo Hawk to develop larger than those in the 3rd quarter.  You even lose sight of him at times around bends.  The trees are thick enough to obscure A Lo Hawk at a distance, yet roomy enough to walk through.  The trail has changed.

You begin to imagine creatures.  Not squirrels or rabbits.  You’re brain is beginning to bake and you’re thinking about trolls and mystical leprechauns.  The setting really is magical and combined with your numb mind supports mild hallucinations.  If there were such things as  two foot tall creatures with size 12 hairy feet, this is where you’ll see them – miles deep in the forest of the Colorado Trail.  You scan the trees ahead, prepared for Hobbit-like characters or Charlie Sheen to appear from behind a tree and accost you for your tiger blood.  As you round a bend, you catch a glimpse of A Lo Hawk before he disappears again around the next curve in the trail.  Feeling alone, your thoughts are illusory.  You quicken your pace.

You’re running stronger now, or the hills have slowed A Lo Hawk, or perhaps he has even stopped to wait for you, and you are now running close behind him.  This has been a long quarter and you now expect this trail is headed to extra innings.  A Lo Hawk is still running the downhills strong, but your pace is close enough to his now that you leave behind the fantasies to begin thinking about finishing.  It occurs to you that you should eat some food.

You’re not interested in your sandwich at the next rest period.  Rob offers you something he calls a pancake.  You have yet to find any manufactured trail energy food that you find palatable, but you like this.  Yes, you’re super hungry but you suspect you like this anyway.  You make note of it as something you’ll provide a link to in your blog.  It’s earned honorable mention.  And so do your shoes.  Your La Sportiva trail shoes lead you up a glacier and have gripped this entire trail with confidence.  Likewise, A Lo Hawk is pleased with his Adidas trail shoes.  Smart gear and smart gear choices today.  You’ve got that going for you.

The rest spot was impressive – on a large boulder that you used your hands in order to climb up.  With a view that justified pictures and should have rationalized sitting for a good hour.  But knowing you’re nearing the end, you don’t hang out too long and you begin the last leg of this trail run.

CT Cronica: The Warm-up is Over

05 Tuesday Apr 2011

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After 6 miles, you reach the Colorado Trail.  “Really?  What was the trail we just ran?”  What you just did was the Indian Creek Trail Head.  It sits south of the CT at nearly the same distance as the Waterton Trail Head sits north of the CT.  Where those two trail head paths collide is the start of the Colorado Trail sans trail head – which is said to start in Denver and end in Durango.

10 miles remain, but according to runner’s math, it feels like halftime.  You’ve completed one trail and are starting another.  That’s half way regardless of distance.  A Lo Hawk leads the 3rd quarter and you notice a different feel to your body with your first steps.  The weight of lactic acid in your legs reminds you of the several hills you climbed over the last 6 miles.  You eventually fall into a comfortable pace as A Lo Hawk leads yet another march, another quarter in this epic run.  It occurs to you that you might run the entire course today.  So much for hiking.  But to be fair, you’ve yet to encounter hills you can’t handle, and the elevation isn’t out of your range.  A 16 mile run is starting to appear possible.

Like a dolly zoom, this quarter expands the further you run.  You realize you are beginning to tire.  A Lo hawk isn’t showing signs of fatigue as he runs downhill with the confidence and speed you demonstrated in the 2nd quarter.  And while he might walk a few steps of intensely steep uphill, he is quick to return to solid pace once the steps flatten out.  You surrender distance on even ground and struggle to close the gap during downhills.  Your pace is inconsistent while A Lo Hawk’s tempo is strong and even. You consider whether he is in that much better shape or if trail running skills are starting to show their impact.

The path meanders in and out of sun and shade.  You feel the heat in the sun and alternate the bill of your cap to forward from rear to counter the glare.  You feel grateful that A Lo Hawk is leading as following is the only thing that’s keeping you running.  If it were your lead you’d be walking – if not resting on a big rock in the shade.  You haven’t hit a wall exactly, but your body requires replenishment.  The end of the 3rd quarter brings relief and for the first time you eat.  You test the carrots – something you’ve never brought along for a run or hike before but seem like a good idea.  They are moist with water while still crunchy.  You’re happy with them and relate a story to A Lo Hawk on how they remind you of eating tunas in Mexico.

You finish the bottle of Gatorade you’ve been carrying in your hand – partly from thirst and partly because you’re tired of carrying it.  A Lo Hawk has been fueled by Cytomax.  Before you start up again, you remove your top shirt and stuff it in your pack along with the empty bottle.  It’s heavy with sweat and you feel smart for your selection of layers.  Up to now, you’ve been alternating lead with A Lo Hawk, but you let him lead the 4th quarter as well.  He’s still strong.

CT Cronica: Trail Legs

04 Monday Apr 2011

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A Lo Hawk shouts from the mountain top at you to take the lead for the second quarter of today’s CT run.  You jump into action.  The CT is headed downhill again so you try to control your pace.  But soon enough you’re flying.  You’ve rediscovered your trail legs and are artfully stepping past stones.  Any over-confidence that is building though is challenged by the first water crossing you encounter.  You slow down to consider either the thin boards to the left or the thick log to the right.  A Lo Hawk surges past your incompetence and skips across the rocks right down the middle of the path.  You’re learning and on the next water crossing – much later in the hike but where you are again leading – you perform gracefully without hesitation.  Although to be truthful, you ran upon that stream too quickly to slow down and had to commit.

Committing your footfall while in mid-step is what makes trail runs so damned fun.  Skill starts with having sufficient leg strength and grows with your swelling confidence.  The faster you run, the greater your sense of owning this trail.  It’s addictive and you know you’ll pay for the good time once the path reverses slope and begins to climb back up.

The upturn occurs gradually though, allowing you to maintain a decent pace.  You’re nearly halted however upon encountering the glacier.  The path is half creek bed and presents you with a tremendous mound of snow and ice.  Your body stops momentarily, but not your momentum.  After assessing the risk, you leap up the middle of the colossus – undaunted by nature and resolute in your commitment to lead this section of the trail.  Not doubting A Lo Hawk’s abilities, you fail to look back, certain he is right behind you; and imagining how impressed he must be right now at your deft trail running prowess.

Typical of running intervals, the second quarter is fast, and will probably be your quickest.  You take the hills strong with little walking.  You guess the wrong direction at a trail intersection, but that’s why you run with a master trail guide.  After a quick photo op, you surrender the lead to A Lo Hawk for the upcoming third quarter basking in the memory of this interval.

CT Cronica: Downhill

03 Sunday Apr 2011

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You rise at 6 am to dress for hiking the first segment of the Colorado Trail.  You laid out your clothes the night before and selected a slew of shirts, extra socks and even multiple hats to make your final dress determination at the trail head.  You make a ham and cheese sandwich and grab a bag of baby carrots for trail food, and stuff it in your pack with clothes, sunscreen and two bottles of Gatorade Perform 02.  You’re out the door and at Vics by 6:30 am for a large cup of half decaf, half real deal for the drive to Sedalia.

You drive about 10 miles west of Sedalia on Hwy 67 to the Indian Creek Trail Head, where your trail guide A Lo Hawk is waiting for you after having camped the night out there.  You spend 45 minutes shuffling a car to the end of the hike, and launch at 3 minutes before 9 am.  A Lo Hawk, who in many ways is more of a spiritual guide than trail guide, takes the lead.  You follow more as if chasing the wind than anything corporeal.  Your expectation is to run as much as the first half of the 16 mile trail, and walk the rest.  But that plan is fluid and will be determined by the terrain and elevation.  You warm up and quickly fall into a fast pace because the trail is noticeably downhill.  Soon you’re flying effortlessly down the single track, and recalling how this trail reminds you of the time you spent regularly running an inner city greenbelt 23 years earlier.  You wonder if this trail will fall downward forever and know that you’ll complete it much earlier than planned if the drop continues.

All downhills end with a corresponding uphill, and this experience is no different.  A Lo Hawk gradually, smoothly shifts gears to maintain cadence as the slope increases and you near the crest.  He talks of trail ultras and the concept of continuum – the notion that each segment, the runs, the walks, and the sit down rests, all comprise equal experiences in your enjoyment of the CT.  As the rise steepens, you look forward to the walking component of the continuum.

A Lo Hawk eventually glides into a walk and you take his picture.  You’ve completed the first quarter of the first segment of the CT.  You don’t know that the quarter metaphor will add up mathematically in terms of today’s hike/run having 4 stops or 4 discrete segments; but you’re thinking more in terms of running an interval track workout of quarter miles.  Such workouts might consist of 6 or 8 quarters, and for whatever reason, you think today’s run might be something like an interval workout.  You’re flexible enough in your use of metaphors to apply the term to the notion of having just  completed a quarter of the trail.  Technically, your first stop came after only 2 or 3 memorable miles – so only an eighth of the trail.  And so far, your gear choice of two layers of thin, high tech shirts – one a red long-sleeve Under Armour jersey, and the second your new crimson red Boulder Spring Half Marathon top – has kept you comfortable.  The air is still chilly but the sun is bright and the wind nominal.  You think about taking the lead for the second quarter.

A Lo Hawk Launches Off on the Colorado Trail

02 Saturday Apr 2011

Posted by in Running, Storytelling

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Meet A Lo Hawk.  A trail moniker birthed in a Maui volcano and carried forth on the PCT and AT.  Having fully tested the patience of loved ones on those summer-long hikes, his plan for hiking the Colorado Trail is to complete segments on weekends.  I believe A Lo Hawk told me there are 28 segments.  That sounds like half a year to me.  But A Lo Hawk suspects he can hike some of the segments in tandem, and he started early.  A Lo Hawk started today with me.

Me was very impressed with myself for being able to hang with A Lo Hawk on today’s 16 mile excursion over the rolling hills of the first segment of the Colorado Trail.  A Lo Hawk finished stronger than me but I held my own for most of the ride.  And man, what a ride.  Physically, it was much more challenging than the recent half marathons I’ve run.  And yet it was totally more fun.  Trail running presents the runner with an epic adventure, and today was no exception.

I won’t provide all the details here because I’ve decided to return to my metaphorical writing style and will publish several narratives as part of a single story on today’s experience.  I setup a new page which should appear as a tab like the About tab on this blog page.  I’m still working to understand the mechanics of publishing this on a separate page within this same blog, so please remain patient with me as I figure this out.

Needless to say, today’s adventure contains enough themes to write several stories.  If A Lo Hawk is successful in his prodding, I’ll complete additional segments of the Colorado Trail with him, and the new story will continue throughout the summer.  I’ve named the story, CT Cronica.  You should be able to view the tab near the top of this blog menu.  As of now, I haven’t added any stories, but I will.