West Coast trailrunning eye candy

Summer is my absolute favourite time of year for hitting the local dirt - too often literally, but I digress - mainly due to the fact that it is dry and sunny, brilliantly green, warm, and the snow level has receded enough to be able to get into the awesome high country ("high" here being above 4000'). And so, after seeing other amazing pics of lovely places like Banff, Colorado, and California, here for your viewing pleasure are some of the places Martha and I have played over the past few weeks. We have had some fantastic weather here in BC, and we took the opportunity to hit the local hills as I crammed in my final preparation for the Tor des Geants in September. Thanks to the 40-Something Dirt Divas for company on a lot of the runs!

Hanes Valley

forest nypmhs frolic in the dappled sunlight

looks like good HURT training ground

going up...

...seriously up

looking north to Crown Mtn and beyond

ripping it down the mountain bike ramps of our famous North Shore

Deep Cove (sea level) to Mount Seymour (4754 feet)

Pump Peak #1 - thinking of Bob Withers here

view north from Mt Seymour - Mount Garbaldi on the left

From mountain peak to cooling down and cleaning off the Raptors in the ocean. Only in Vancouver!

Manning Park - Heather Trail

this is an incredible place to run!!

you  just want to keep on going, don't you? More! More!

I love that my wife likes to run too  :-)

or maybe she likes the flowers as well - lupines galore!

it's hard to keep your eyes on the trail sometimes when the scenery is so fantastic

going for that new Facebook profile photo  ;-)

Manning Park - Mount Frosty

I use the term "trail" loosely here

Stands of larch trees - fantastic!

The long trail down to Lightning Lake

...and at the end of it all....

Post-run recovery time. Of course, I have already downed my bottle of Ultragen before contemplating the Wheat Ale!

 

Volunteering at the STORMY Ultras - Aug 10

Something I had on my race calendar for the past few years has been the STORMY 100-mile run. Not to run the race, but to run the Edith Lake aid station. The past few years, I was doing it alone...all night! But this year, my lovely first wife Martha joined me to help out and keep me company. It was a wonderful change sharing it with her, and more than a bit easier to stay awake as a result!

Our adventures up there included: 

• saturating rain
• mosquitoes
• a runner who was too fast for us to be completely set up in time (we had water set up, but he stealthily sped through when we were back at the car getting more stuff)
• lost runners
• falling trees
• mosquitoes
• eating more green olives than the racers did
• Bruce's Famous Turkey-Avocado Wraps (tm)
• an exciting mid-race break to Howe Sound Brewing for lunch and some Three Beavers and King Hefe
• bears. I know they were out there. Watching us. Waiting. Sniffing. Really.
• me being able to take off in the morning and run a couple of relay legs as part of a team of race volunteers (hey, we placed 11/26, not bad for a throw-together team! Thanks Jess, Bill, Kim and Mischell)
• driving home Sunday afternoon, having a quick 2-hr nap, then heading out for my Mom's 70th birthday party.
• the fun and satisfaction of helping our friend and RD Wendy Montgomery, as well as all the racers out. 

I wrote up a much more detailed account which can be seen over at the LaSportiva mountainrunning blog site - please head there to read more!

Yummy.....

p.s. green olives are awesome. I had these for the first time at an aid station at about mile 60 at the Massanutten 100, and thought I'd found nirvana. You know you want some. Next year we'll bring the gin as well if you still need convincing.

Media coverage of San Diego 100

The race report is coming, but I was pleased to see that I made it into the online version of Ultrarunning Magazine's recent race review - cool! We'll see about the print version:


http://www.ultrarunning.com/ultra/features/news/medina-and-larkindale-win.shtml

Maybe next time I will be in the headline instead of the picture  ;-)    yeah right!


Briefly, the race went really well. I rocked it for 80 miles before really fading out later on - I just hadn't done enough distance training. Time was 23:02 for 12th place overall, so I hit the sub-24 goal I had going in....and flirted with top-10 until I slowed down. Overall I ran better than I expected, which is always enjoyable and pleasing.


SD100 is a beautiful course, and I just loved running it. More to come .....

Tenderfoot Boogie 50mile - 15May10

Last weekend was the inaugural Tenderfoot Boogie 50-mile (and 50k/25k) race, a point-to-point route going from Squamish to Whistler. RD Gottfried Grosser did a great job assembling bits of trail into one contiguous route where nothing really exists, although much of it is on the current and to-be-established sections of the new Sea-to-Sky Trail. Any first-time event is a bit of a crapshoot as far as how it will come off, but Gottfried puts on a good event at the Frosty Mountain 50k so I hoped today would be no different.

I always look for a 50-mile or 100k race around May, as it is the perfect time to load this kind of distance in preparation for a summer 100-mile event. With the cost of travel, race entry fees and border hassles playing a part in attending other venues, it was great to have Tenderfoot appear on the calendar – a local event within easy driving distance.

Of course, “easy driving distance” still meant a 3AM wake-up alarm in order to get the 5AM start….. but the early glimmer of sunlight on the horizon and stars overhead indicated that we were in for a fantastic day as far as weather was concerned. Martha and I threw our gear in the car, put full coffee cups into their holders, and headed off up the highway.

My season so far has been “pretty good” with some decent races at Chuckanut and Diez Vista (yah, yah, I’ll write those up sometime soonish…), but a blowout at Sunflower a couple of weeks earlier. I was feeling cautiously optimistic heading into a 50-miler, but really haven’t been doing the long distance that could confidently put me in the top of the field. Looking at the sign-up list, I knew I was in the upper range, but faced some tough competition from speedster Jacek Doniec, Tracy Garneau, Mike Palichuk (coming off a recent sub-3:00 Vancouver Marathon), and Tim Wiens (sub-7 at Mt. Si 50m a month ago).  I figured Jacek and Tracy would be gone off the front; I might be near to Mike only if he cracked; but that Tim and I would probably be pretty close. Of course, I would need a pretty solid effort to back up my expectations. My “pretty good” early season has indicated a relative lack of speed, but a fairly strong and steady endurance – maybe not a great combination for the 50k “sprint” distance, but better for longer events like the day’s 50-miler. My plan was to let those four go ahead at the start to not get sucked into a pace too fast for me, and to run my own race and hopefully pick off any stragglers.

As expected, the five of us took off in a bunch at the start, and I held with the others for the first few kilometres, enjoying the conversation as we tried to follow the trail. The navigation challenges that would characterise the day started early, with the trail being marked with translucent red ribbon that was very difficult to see in the early dawn light. I was glad that I had done a training run on the first 25k of the course to know where it went, but was already worried about the remainder that I had not seen. 

Kerry Ward, Bruce Grant and Mike Palichuk at 1 km
Photo: Kerry Ward

Not too far into things, I let the other four runners go ahead of me as planned, taking some timely bathroom breaks to force the separation. I was generally feeling alright, but didn’t have my groove on yet. It was either slow coming, which is not unusual, or was going to elude me entirely. I hoped it was the former. I ran with a consistent effort, wanting to pace myself, but also with intent. The distance clicked off pretty quickly over the first 20km, a fairly level section of the course along roads, river dyke, and gradual uphill single-track. The trend of the race would be uphill all the way, since we started well down-river and down-hill from the finish in Whistler. I was surprised to catch Tim as he popped out of the woods, and we ran together into the first major aid station at 25km.

Tim really took off from me at that point, pulling away on a long road section until he was out of sight. I was really surprised to see Tracy just after the aid station, in a jacket walking her dog and yakking on her cell phone – I don’t know what was up, but she was out of the race. That was too bad, she was on track to do really well. As Tim disappeared into the distance, my groove was definitely taking its time coming on, but I felt steady and focussed on getting fluids and calories into me. The quest for marker ribbons began in earnest now, as I was on an unfamiliar part of the course and trails I had never seen before. After a long segment on the gravel road, the route – finally – pitched upward on a rocky track that took us way up above the river we had been following. Apparently the trail was a historic track from 1910 used when the railway was built, and the only off-road section through a very narrow part of the valley. As it got to its summit, the views over the river were fantastic, and the surrounding snow-covered peaks glistened in the early-morning sunlight.

Unfortunately, this track spat us out onto the busy highway. I automatically headed north towards Whistler, but there were no ribbons. The road was heading downhill, and I stopped after a kilometre or so, still not seeing any course markers. Before going too far down, I turned to retrace my steps to make sure I had not missed something where the trail ended. After 100 metres or so, I stepped over the highway barrier at the side of the road, and noticed show prints in the dirt there. OK, so some other runners had gone this way too. I turned around again and headed along the highway northbound once more. And on and on it went, cars and trucks zipping by at 100km/h for a number of interminable kilometres. Finally, I could see a red marker ribbon ahead, and a chalk arrow (wow!) pointing off the road into a bunch of trees.

It wasn’t really a trail, but it wasn’t the highway either. There were lots of ribbons indicating the path through this semi-bushwhack, although there were vestiges of an old trail there in places. Unfortunately, this was all just a bend in the river and we had to climb back onto the highway again. Zzzoooom!! Shhhwwwooosh! Plod plod plod plod. I cursed the highway, but knew that there was nowhere else the route could go.

After a few more km’s of gradually uphill road and approaching the limit of my patience, we flipped off the highway to an aid station and the entrance to an old gravel road. Hey, at least it wasn’t pavement. This was about halfway in the race, and I was there in just under four hours. Fanciful finish times started bouncing around in my head, but there was still a long way to go, as well as the bulk of the race’s elevation gains including, apparently, some snow. The snowline was ~2000’ higher than where I was, so something was going to turn up sometime soon.

I filled my two bottles with nuun, said Hi to my friend Gail who was there crewing for her hubby George, and asked her to pass on my good wishes to George and my wife Martha running behind me. Not too far in, and after stopping to assess a poorly-flagged fork in the road, I caught up to the first of the 50km racers who had started up the trail an hour after the 50-milers did. Actually, it ended up being a string of runners I passed and chatted briefly to – until there appeared three runners coming back along the road towards me. They said they hit the highway again, and there were no ribbons there. Well crap, I hadn’t seen any ribbons for the past kilometre or two, but wasn’t surprised. I knew we had to hit the road again to get up to Brandywine Falls. There was a side road off to the left a little while back, but no markers I could see; the trend of marking had so far been to not flag anything that kept to the main trail, so I said screw it and kept going to the highway. As indicated, there were no ribbons or chalk arrows there, but quite a number of northbound shoe prints in the dirt shoulder. I headed on up the highway, followed by a couple of the 50k runners behind me. I could see no one ahead of me along the road.

The highway kept going and going, with no ribbons or chalk anywhere. I stopped and looked around each time a side road entered the highway, but there was nothing I could see. After about 4km’s, with an irritation exacerbated by fast vehicles, black asphalt, and bright sun beating down while reflected off a cliff beside me, and still no marker ribbons, I was feeling that I was off course and had blown something. I was of ill-humour. I have a pretty good navigational sense and rarely miss course markers, but I was losing confidence I was on the right track although I couldn’t figure out where I might have gone wrong. But then, heading past in his truck honking and waving at me, was RD Gottfried. I turned, expecting him to pull over to tell me I was off course, but he kept on going. What the- ?? That must mean I’m on track. Then why haven’t I seen any ribbons anywhere? Amazingly, after another kilometre, out of the blue appeared a metre-long red ribbon attached to a highway sign, fluttering in the breeze. OK, so I am on course, but we could have used 30cm of that ribbon further back somewhere.

Brandywine Falls approached, and I was interested to see that there was a highway crew there with cones and a flagperson to guide us across the busy highway. There were also two ambulances I could see. I stopped at the park gate and looked for the next ribbon, eased a bit when one of the first-aid people pointed across the park road. Ah. South-east, of course. It was nice to be off the pavement again and into some trail and trees. As the trail wound down, it crossed the railway. The railway had a sign saying “McGuire 1 Mile”: McGuire was our next aid station, and race notes indicated it was 2.5 km from Brandywine, so I downed the little that was left in my bottles. I was hot, thirsty, and getting a bit light on the fluids.

This was part of the new Sea-to-Sky Trail, freshly gravelled (unfortunately, they appear not to know about water bars to prevent instant erosion)  with some steep climbs, exposed sections under power lines, and bits that were slow as I navigated around massive puddles or blowdown trees. I did note a fantastic view of the volcanic spire of Black Tusk in one of the clearings. Ribbons were again scarce, and more than a few times, my confidence was only there due to seeing other shoe prints in the dirt. The trail eventually turned away from the main Sea-to-Sky trail it was following, and onto an older, narrow trail that was one of the highlights of the route for me. It was so rocky with tricky footing, it reminded me of the Bruce Trail in Ontario or the Massanutten course in Virginia. I was slowing through here for reasons beyond the tricky footing, as I was drying out. I knew I had to get some fluids in me soon, so where the heck was that aid station?

Well, despite the “1-mile” sign on the railway, and though race documents indicated it was 2.5km to McGuire, my GPS track shows it was 5km. Combined with the slow terrain, and I had been running with no fluids for an hour in the increasing heat of the day. Now I was behind, and needed to catch up.

I rolled into the aid station to refill and refuel, and was surprised when people there said I was in second place. Hunh? I hadn’t seen Mike or Tim for several hours, and definitely had not passed them. They must have gone off course somewhere. With 28km to go in the race, the pressure was on now to maintain my placing through to the end, with a couple of potentially faster runners not far behind me. Good motivation to hoof it! I charged out of the aid station, determined to do what I could to hold my place.

…and onto a great section of trail that skirted the Brandywine River, dancing through the woods before crossing the raging torrent on a suspension bridge. After crossing the bridge, I looked around for ribbons, and not seeing any, ran straight and into the campsite there, which seemed odd. Before I got too far along, though, some campers yelled at me that the course was “over there” behind me and along the riverbank again. Oh – there are the ribbons, a few metres up from the small trail junction after the bridge….after the turn should have been made. Hay-soos!

I have to say that this section was my favourite in the whole race. It was a lot of sweet, winding single-track through the forest along an old trail, and was just lovely to run along. We popped onto the gravelled Sea-to-Sky trail again for a while, but left that after a bit to hit some more single-track again. All this time, I was trying to hammer back more nuun and some calories to make up my deficit, and finally managed to stop for a honey-coloured pee. Not good, but at least it was enough to have to let out. Keep drinking, man!

Eventually the fun trail spat me out on a road. Again, there were no ribbons to mark which way to go. I stopped and looked – nada, but to my right was some big municipal works yard or something, so we must go left. Along the street, across a bridge, and ah-ha! Ribbons that led down the bridge embankment. To a gravel road. And no ribbons. What the- ??  Frick! Walk along a bit – wait, there’s a small ribbon tied around a 3” rock up a gravel embankment….oh, and there’s some ribbons at that small trailhead in the woods. Cheese whiz, man. Run through some nice trail for a couple hundred metres, and plop out into a gravel parking lot with the highway through the trees just in front. And where to go from here? No ribbons. Again. I started along the gravel road off to my right, but paused and looked back the other way just to double check. Wait, that looks like a crew person reading a map, so I ran back towards her. She looked up and pointed me sort of back and towards the highway, but I still couldn’t see any course markers. I stopped and dragged my heel in the gravel to make an arrow pointing this direction where the trail came out.

I got to the end of the parking lot, and there was a ribbon tied to a lightpost, and another on the other side of the highway. OK, I can see where we’re headed now. Up the road a bit, and ribbons led off to the left, and to a small aid station where a kind lady was sitting in the sun, reading. I filled my bottles and grabbed some fig newtons and banana, then headed into the forest again, and uphill along some switchbacks.

I was kind of fired up here, and charged up the hill until I saw someone not too far ahead. I kept on hiking the steep grind with good purpose, and caught up to the guy, Ward. We chatted for a while, and he lamented that he was DQ’d because he went off course along the railway to McGuire instead of the trail, but felt way better now and was loving the day because there was no pressure on him now. I enjoyed chatting to him, he was really enthusiastic and positive. He also said that this was a loooooong hill that got into the snow, so though I left him behind, I knew I had another 1000’ before the snowline and backed off my pace a bit to settle into a more sustainable stride, still aware of my overall placing and not wanting to give too much time up to the guys behind me. Eventually the climb did hit the snow, which got gradually deeper until all the dirt was gone and all footing was on top, and occasionally through, the snow. It was slow going, with the snow wet and slippery as it melted, but still mostly firm enough to walk on. There were lots of alder trees pulled down with the snow, laying across the trail that made for some careful stepping over or around to get by them, they really disrupted any flow you might be able to get in the snow.

After 7km of uphill, a cairn of rocks marked the top of the ascent, and it tipped downward. For a while, at least. Then it headed back up again, steeper this time, although there was marginally less snow since this part was either more exposed to the sun or underneath trees. Three cyclists were coming down the other way, and they said I was almost at the top. Good, I was getting pretty tired, and the grind was wearing my legs down. I pitched over the crest, and finally headed downhill for good. With 6km to go, I was still in second place, and no one in sight behind me although that didn’t mean I could dilly-dally. I was quite fatigued though, and unable to push the pace as hard as I would have liked. Still, I passed the last aid station with 5k to go and ran into the forest along the cool mountain bike trail “A River Runs Through It”. The ups and down, twist and turns, and bike rails to go over reminded me of my training route on Burnaby Mountain, so I enjoyed this part a lot as well. But still, the finish seemed to come so slowly. I knew there were 2km of paved trail that led to the finish line once I got off the dirt. Keep going, those guys are close behind.

I finally hit the paved Valley Trail, and tried to pick up the pace for the final couple of k’s. It was hard, and I was wrung-out at this point, feeling the gradual rises in the trail that slowed me to a walk. Motivation came from the unseen runners behind, and I tried to keep running as much as I could. And then, there it was, the clearing of the park the finish was in, and around the corner, the finish banner. I crossed the line in 9:22, and still in second place overall, behind Jacek who finished in an excellent 8:09. I was wise to have kept running, as Mike came charging to the line a mere four minutes behind, and then Tim cam into view seven minutes after Mike. Wow, the three of us were pretty close after all that.

After finishing, the post-race chit-chat with Mike, Tim and Jacek revealed that we all had some serious route-finding challenges out there, and most of us at some point spent some time off-course, lost, or trying to find the right way. Mike and Tim were as confused at how I got in front of them as I was, it was hard to figure out who may have been off or exactly what happened. We all agreed that on the whole, things were pretty poorly marked, so most people were probably off somewhere. As confident as I was that I was on–course after seeing Gottfried on the highway before Brandywine Falls, I had some niggling doubts after talking to the three other guys.

I waited for Martha to come in, she seemed to be taking longer than expected and I was worried she had a bad day. I ran back along the trail to see if I could meet her, and there she was, looking happy and strong. She had kindly run with George for most of the day, helping him find the course. George is colour-blind to red, so the red marker ribbons – where there were any and as hard as they were to see for normal eyes – were absolutely invisible to him. However, at his insistence, she left George at the last aid station to run to a very strong finish, and felt great. She should – Martha ended up being the first overall female finisher in the 50-mile race, and new course record holder! How cool is that?

George had a tough day, getting badly dehydrated and seriously low on sodium in the unexpectedly long section before Brandywine Falls. Some of the later aid stations were out of water by the time he came through and had nothing but Ultima drink left, which he wasn’t partial to drinking. But, in an amazing show of resilience and mental fortitude, he persevered to finish the race despite his challenges. I am really proud of him for doing so, it can be so easy to quit when things get tough. Way to go George!


Postscript:

As I said, I had some niggling doubts about how I managed to get ahead of Mike and Tim without ever seeing them. The next day, I pulled up my GPS track and compared it to the race map, and realised that it was me who had missed a turn after the Chance Aid Station, and cut about 1 – 1.5 km off the route. This put me in the wrong and despite any similar errors Mike or Tim may or may not have made, I was uncomfortable knowing I came out ahead due to an error and could not ethically let myself take advantage of this situation. I wrote to RD Gottfried and asked him to add 15 minutes to my time, enough to ensure that I was placed in fourth overall behind Mike and Tim (he added 19 minutes). I left the option to DQ me open to him, but to be fair, most of the field would also have to be DQ’d since most people went wrong somewhere due to the vague markings. So, congratulations to Mike and Tim for their overall placing, and Mike for being first in the M 40-49 age group!

Interestingly, except for Tracy dropping out, the finish this way was exactly as I had predicted to myself before the race.

Next year, instead of racing, I think I will volunteer to mark the course myself, there are definitely some improvements to be made there. On the whole though, this was a first-year event, and Gottfried did a good job putting together such a long event over such a logistically challenging route – thanks, Gottfried!


Equipment:
LaSportiva Wildcat shoes
Julbo Contest sunglasses
a whole tube of nuun, variety flavours
Nathan Elite handheld bottles 

Freewheeling -or- what kind of training do you like?

Last Sunday, my friend Wendy took a group of us fellow runners out on a beautiful day to run some new-to-us-but-not-to-her trails in her backyard in Squamish. Wendy is the RD for the cool STORMY Trail Races, and I have been over the course route a number of times. It's got some great trails, but I knew that there were more and more trails in the Squamish are that I had not explored, so it was with great enthusiasm that we took up Wendy's offer to guide us around.

The trails were amazing! Primarily used for mountain biking (must take my bike there some day...), the trails are single-track of various ages, from old well-used ones to brand, spanking new ones, funded from Federal government Economic Action Plan money. Nice to see some taxpayer $$'s going into human-powered pursuits instead of roads or auto companies...but I digress. The route took us through some regrowing clearcuts, some older forest stands, over creeks, across bike tricks, and around rocks. Along the way, we heard birds, saw bear poo, and got great views of the surrounding snow-covered peaks from time to time. The pace was casual to match the different conditions of the various runners - Janet had just run Miwok, and Martha and I did a trail marathon the week prior - but it was laden with chit-chat, laughter, trail gossip (shhh), wondering where we were, and picking where to go next. All in all, it ended up being one of the funnest four-hour runs I have done for a while - thanks, Wendy. 

Along the way, I pondered on why I had not run some of these trails before; why I had typically stuck to the well-known STORMY race route in my previous outings up to Squamish. I often wonder why I don't escape well-known routes very often, and had an interesting related discussion the previous week with some other running friends. I was talking to Gail, and she likes exploring new things, seeing a trail branch, and taking the unknown route to see where it goes. Her hubby George tends to stick to the same routes all the time, and isn't big on exploring like Gail is. I realised that I identified closer with George's approach, running known trails, although like last weekend, it sure can be fun doing something new.

I think the difference is that I tend to go out on a training run with a specific purpose and agenda, be it time or terrain. I know route X will take me 3 hours, or that route Y will give me 3000' of climbing. It is fun doing this, and there is a sense of purpose, but it gets a bit repetitive. How do you find new trails, then? You have to explore, or have a guide who has already done the exploring for you.


Sometimes those trail branches are duds, dead-ending in brush or at a cliff edge, or looping back on itself. Those situations are always disappointing, and disruptive to the flow of a run. However, sometimes the new stuff can be incredible, and a great addition to your quiver of running routes. 

As for last weekend with Wendy, it opened my eyes to the greater possibilities for the area, so I'll definitely go back. I'll hit the trails we ran on, but I will also be more willing to branch out a bit as my familiarity with the area grows.

Sunflower 26m trail race - May 10

Just a link to my Sunflower race report over on the LaSportiva Mountain Running blog....
http://mountainrun.wordpress.com/2010/05/07/sunflower-trail-run/

Season opener this weekend - Chuckanut 50k

This Saturday will be my first race of the season, the Chuckanut 50k down in Bellingham. This year will mark my 9th effort at that race, it an event I love getting down to. I have been relatively consistent in my results there, typically finishing in a 5:15ish sort of time, with outliers at 5:35 (ouch) and 4:42 (yowza!). I love running this race because it is the first time in the year when all the local PacNW runners congregate and I get to see friends from Washington, and even BC too, who I haven't seen since last season. Everyone shows up for this one, and it is a great time. It is a fun course and has always been well-organised, with current RD credit going to Krissy Moehl and my LaSportiva teammate Ellen Parker. Weather can rane from nasty Pacific winter conditions with wind, a deluge of rain, and maybe some snow, or it can be warm and spectacular out; it looks like we'll get the latter this weekend, which is a real bonus.

As far as the actual running aspect goes, Chuckanut is not my kind of course. It starts and finishes with 10k of packed gravel railbed, so tends to favour those athletes with some early-season wheels underneath them - and that ain't me at the moment. My training has been consistent this season, but I am taking a different approach this year with a lot of core strengthening and cardio work which has paid great dividends in hill climbing, my typical weak spot. However, what I have been missing so far is speedwork and leg turnover, so with 20% of the race run on flats, I'll be lacking the skill that most benefits that part of the course. The middle hill section should go well, but overall it likely won't be a stellar finishing time for me. But who cares - I'm not worried about that! What I am really looking forward to is seeing friends and enjoying another beautiful day in the woods!

This year's race will also be a tribute to our dear friend Dave Terry. Despite the opportunity to catch up with many friends, I will definitely miss seeing Dave on the course, he was always a regular at Chuckanut.
Dave Terry climbing up Little Giant Basin Road, Hardrock 2007

Evolution Valley 100k run – Bishop, CA

I had first heard of the Evolution 100k trail several years ago, through my friends Howard and JB. The idea of the ongoing event – not a race - was to run the designated loop at your leisure, and post results to JB's web site. Pictures of the place looked absolutely stunning, and my desire to take on this challenge was piqued when my buddy H'ard did it a few years ago and I heard his stories of the route's grandeur.

The Evo 100 loop is in the backyard of Bishop, California, which is the hometown of several excellent runners who used these trails for training. The Sierra Mountains of the Eastern Slope provide beauty, excellent trails, and altitude, so it is no wonder you see guys like Phill Kiddoo and Jeff Kozak at the top of many race results.

Phill hosted us for this year's Bishop Ball Buster weekend, which had the Evo100 as a key feature of three days of planned runs. Of the numerous B3 participants, only five of us would take on the Big Loop; the others taking on the 26-mile "Skyline Marathon" route instead.

Phill, H'ard, Eric, Jimmy and I were up at the crack of some single-digit number, and at the trailhead discovered some ice on the surface of puddles in the light of our headlamps. However, the immediate uphill start towards Piute Pass warmed us up pretty quickly. The glow of the rising sun gradually revealed the majesty of the surrounding hills, and illuminated our trail ahead just as we reached 12000' Piute Pass. The landscape spread before us on the other side of the pass was nothing less than absolutely stunning – one of the most beautiful areas I have had the privilege to run.

The trail tipped downward for a long time after this, passing from the high alpine down into the dry coniferous forests in the valley below. It was fascinating to see the different kinds of trees down there; though we have a lot of trees up here in BC, the species were much different there. Our pace was consistent, though unhurried. We had a few breaks here and there to refill our water bottles from the frequent streams that crossed the trail. We had a bit of a running joke between the varied water-collection techniques, with Phill taking his water directly from the stream, me using a SteriPen to zap any bugs, and "Team Giardia" who wrestled with a pump filter that got progressively plugged and slower over the course of the day.

Eventually we came to a trail junction that put us onto the John Muir Trail/PCT. This in turn was a long uphill grind from the valley up to beautiful Evolution Lake, then on through the following alpine moonscape to Muir Pass. Evolution Lake was amazing to see, and it was difficult to not stumble on the trail, what with all the looking around trying to take in the scenery! We were fortunate that there had been some recent rains in the area, so that the otherwise thick dust from heavily-travelled trail was kept to a minimum. We did pass a few hikers, who were amazed that we were doing in one Day what they were planning on travelling in four to ten days. It all depends what you enjoy, and we're all out there taking it in.

Phill is a very strong runner, and somewhat more acclimatised to the altitude than the other four of us, who hailed from sea level. He took off on the trail up to Muir Pass, and we straggled along after him. I had a tough time at this point, being a bit low on energy and really grinded my way up the rocky trail to the top of Muir Pass. As I approached the summit, I could see Phill standing on a small hill....though as I got closer I realised he was on the top of the intricately-constructed stone Muir Hut. This beehive of a structure is quite amazing to have in the middle of nowhere; I can't imagine the effort it took to build it.

We were all a bit bagged here, and took a few minutes in the hut out of the wind to recharge. Jimmy actually had a quick catnap since, the early start of the day and the altitude were making him sleepy on the trail. The break was good for me too, as I knocked back another gel and a bar to pump up my energy reserves again.

The trail tilted downhill on another long valley trail again, and I definitely felt stronger as we got into a more oxygenated zone...or maybe it was the gels. It was a great slope to be running down, mostly a nice, runnable grade down, with a pretty clear trail surface that allowed for some looking around to take in the wonderful scenery around us. Part of the way down, the sun dropped behind the nearby peaks, and the valley started getting cast in shadow. We reached our final trail junction that took us off the main JMT and began the climb up towards Bishop Pass, our final vertical challenge of the route. We regrouped, recharged a bit more, and then headed up the climb.

I felt pretty good heading up here, and was able to power along quite well. We all picked our own paces up this long, long ascent, with Phill racing off ahead of us muttering something about "there are five of us and only four beers in the car". The sunlight gradually diminished as we rose higher, but I cleared the trees just as the glow was fading from the western sky behind the mountains across the valley. It was serenely beautiful.

I fished in my pack for my flashlight, and in the process realised that I had lost my headlight somewhere on the trail. I have never had issues with a broken light or depleted batteries, but always have a backup light and hoped that this would not be the first time I would require one. We passed a group of campers who were set up on a rocky prominence overlooking the valley; in a way, I was jealous of them having such a fantastic spot to camp out with a view like they had, but our mission was different today.

I caught up to Eric, and we slowed our pace until Jimmy also caught up to us; Phill was long gone, and H'ard was trailing a bit behind coming up the hill. After marching on for a while, I realised that Eric and Jimmy had dropped off pace and were a ways back down the climb – it ended up that Jimmy's light failed and they both had to run with one light between them, which made for slow going. Not realising their plight, I kept taking advantage of my good energy and powered up whist was turning into an unending ascent. In the dark, and never having been here before, I had no idea how long the climb went, and what dark hill or peak we actually passed over. Of course, it was way higher than I kept thinking along the way, but that's part of the fun of running somewhere new in the dark. As I got to what must have been the top, the full moon started peeking over the mountains, and illuminating the area around me in slices. With this ambient light, I could finally see what had to be the pass.

Sure enough, I tipped over the top, and then was met with the rockiest part of the entire trail. I found it challenging to get over this stuff with my sub-optimal lighting, and had a heck of a time following the trail on a rock fall section that was all large boulders. I did get off course here, and had to rely on my GPS to relocate the trail fifty metres up the hill. Once I got back on track, things were pretty clear, and the trail got progressively clear of rocks.

The trail ran along Long Lake, which was now illuminated wonderfully in the glow of the moonlight. Despite my increasing fatigue and desire to be finished, I really enjoyed this part of the trail; the perspective of running at night in the lunar glow is something most people don't get to appreciate. The trail left the lake and tipped down sharply, and I knew I was on the final descent to the parking lot. I came upon South Lake and knew I was almost there, but there was one last short but steep climb towards the parking lot.

Phill came out of the van to welcome me in, congratulating me on Becoming Evolved. It was great to be done, but what an awesome trail that was. I jumped in the van to warm up, change and grab a cold beer, and to wait for the other guys to come in as well. Eventually Jimmy and Eric popped out of the woods and proclaimed their tales of just one light between them, and shortly afterwards Howard came in too. H'ard got the credit for Revolving, now completing the loop in both directions.

I have to say thanks to all the guys for company, and especially Phill for hosting us and showing us his backyard trails. I'd like to get back to down to revolve sometime myself!

Cascade Crest 100 – Pacing Janet

There is nothing quite like doing an activity for the first time. Yes, there is that, but I'm specifically referring to athletic endeavours. Most of us begin from a place where running a 5k is a challenge and seems an insurmountable goal. Remember the old 12-minute run in high school and how intimidating that was?

One of the things that I love about running in races is seeing people take on something that they never thought they could do. In the ultra world, the people who are at the start line for their first 50k, 50 miler or 100-miler are filled with fear, anticipation, courage, uncertainly and exhilaration. There is nothing quite like it, and I love to see those emotions in first-timers. It is one of my great joys of running ultras, eclipsed only by the incredible joy and self-wonderment when those same people arrive at the finish line having achieved what they never thought possible before.

And so I was extremely flattered and honoured that my friend Janet Rosenfeld asked me to pace her at the Cascade Crest Classic 100 mile race, which she was targeting to be her first 100. She felt my experience running a few 100's would make me a great pacer for her, and seemed to gain a good deal of comfort and confidence by knowing I would be at her side. I tool this trust very seriously, and ensured I prepared myself physically and mentally to take on the role and meet her expectations, keeping her on course and allowing her to fulfill her goal.

Over the summer, Janet trained with an intensity that forms part of her character. I was amazed at the dedication top training and hours-on-feet that she managed to get in while maintaining her full-time job, coordinating daycare and parenting of a preschooler, and being a wife to a hard-working husband. Somehow, she was managing to put in the training time that I have always dreamed of. She was doing pretty well on her plan with the input of several other experienced ultra friends, and I helped coach her a little bit through her last several weeks. For her benefit, and also somewhat selfishly, I did not want to be pacing someone through the final miles of a tough 100-miler who was overtrained and/or injured. But Janet arrived at the start line eager, healthy and fit. It looked like my job was going to be easy.

Janet breezed into the first couple of aid stations at 25 and 35 miles cheery, alert, and moving at a comfortably relaxed pace. She was doing well and showed no indications of fatigue, stress, dehydration or stomach upset. So far, she was right on track.

Our crew arrived at Hyak aid station, 53 miles into the race and the point where most pacers join in. We keenly watched the oncoming flashlights to pick out Janet, but almost missed her when her smaller stature was hidden behind two other bigger male runners as she went by. I jumped up and ran to join her in the aid station while our crew team made sure she had everything she needed. Besides a few sharp words to describe a new downhill section in the course that she just ran over, you couldn't tell she was 53 miles into a run and once again, I was inwardly relieved for her and for me.

We set off from Hyak and used the next road section to find our pace and develop the subtle communications of body language, sounds and voice that would allow me to sense what pace to go, when to run, when to walk and when to stop. I gained a sense of what food was working for her, how much she was drinking, and a general system check. Pacing is an interesting role in that on one hand you must be a leader at times, encouraging and prodding, but on the other hand you have to take the lead from your runner and not take them beyond where they are capable of going.

But in general, Janet astounded me throughout the night with her strength, consistent pace, and willingness to accept calories and fluids when I told her to (though mostly she knew what to take and when, I didn't have to remind her very much). We traversed the gravel road around to Kachess Lake aid station, and moseyed our way along the never-ending Trail from Hell towards Mineral Creek without much issue, taking it easily through the dark until the sun rose just before the Mineral Creek station. We packed away our flashlights at this point, and while Janet changed her socks, I plied her with grilled-cheese sandwiches. She declined my tasty offering of a Nutella-banana sandwich, which I enjoyed myself. We headed up the road on the next major climb that would take us up to No-Name Ridge, an effort that would occupy us for the next couple of hours.

Again, Janet impressed me with her uncomplaining and consistent effort up this long, long hill. We were pushing a purposeful pace without going too hard, and managed a few running sections as we approached the top and there were more flat parts in the road.

But Janet's most impressive performance was still to come, as we headed out from the No-Name Ridge aid station and into the forest. This part of the course is the one that really takes its toll on runners, featuring the dreaded Cardiac Needles climbs and a summiting of Mt. Thorp. We left the aid station with a group of runners, but quickly left them behind as Janet ran many of the trails in this section, and powered up the steep Needle climbs. I used a bit of pacer psychology with her at this point, claiming that "no, these weren't the needles just yet" and that they were yet to come. So, before we knew it, we were done with those nasty climbs, and traversing the trail beneath Mt. Thorp. Janet still managed a laugh at one point when she looked up the cliff beside us and asked if we had to climb up there, to which I responded "no, not directly up, we get to use some switchbacks."

The remainder of the high country trails were all done similarly, with us running most sections and walking the bits of uphill. I was aware that we were passing lots of other runners, and no one was catching and passing us – more indicative of Janet's wise pacing throughout the race than a contributing factor to overall results. Finally, we tipped downhill towards the last aid station. Despite her amazing strength, Janet was looking and sounding more fatigued at this point, and it was taking – not surprisingly – more effort from me to encourage her to still keep eating and drinking. Though the thought of another gel was so unappealing at this stage, she still never protested and always managed to choke another one down when asked to.

We popped out of the woods into the last aid station and were met by Janet's quietly proud husband Ken. Janet was equally pleased to see him as well, but after a quick hug and kiss we were off again for the last few miles to the finish.

Janet could smell the barn by now, but she was definitely more tired and pushing herself to run the short segments I was suggesting to her. We picked a tree or marker ribbon and ran up that point, then walked briefly to regroup before running on to the next one. In doing so, the last miles under the hot sun passed relatively quickly.

At last, we made the turn up to the train tracks that led towards the finish line. Janet finally let herself realise that she had completed her goal, and broke into a huge smile as we got closer. I was envious of her at this time, knowing the feelings she was having, and knowing how wonderful those sensations of accomplishment, satisfaction, and utter relief were. We turned towards the finish banner, and I stopped to let her take in the final fifty metres herself. It was a wonderful sight to see.

I am so proud of my friend for what she has accomplished, and she made a perfect example of what a person can achieve when they believe in themselves, set a goal beyond their known boundaries, and work with dedication to make it happen. That person could be any one of us. Thanks for the opportunity to witness and be a part of something amazing, Janet!

Hardrock 100 mile race

This year I carried a video camera with me around the course, and put together this little vignette (OK, it's 37 minutes long) of the race experience. This was my first attempt at making a movie, and I'll humbly say I think it turned out pretty well. I hope it gives a runner's perspective on the race, as well as highlighting the incredible scenery that surrounds this rugged course.

As a bit of an overall review of the race, this was my third finish at Hardrock, and unfortunately ended up being my slowest. I ran very well for the first 65 miles, and then my legs blew from a lack of sufficient training and I hobbled in over the remainder of the course. This was a disappointing and painful way to finish, although my overall time and placing was still quite respectable. I was very encouraged to see that I was running in the top ten up until I cracked, which gives me hope for taking that through to the finish in another attempt sometime. It is in me, I can feel it...

This course humbles you, and is always hard.

I hope you enjoy the video.

Hardrock 2009 - A Runner's Journey from lonerunman on Vimeo.