Running with Kenyans

credit Max Mujynya

Today was the 30th Corrida de los Locos. It is a 5-mile out-and-back race held on a golf course in Santa Fe. I have never run the race, but The Desert Babe won it last year. In fact, the first run I ran with The Desert Babe was the weekend after this race last year. It is put on by the Santa Fe Striders and in fact, next year The Desert Babe will become the co-race director for it!

At any rate, it is pretty awesome that the race has been going on for 30 years. Conditions have varied greatly, but this year it was clear blue skies, no wind, and warmed into the 50s late in the race, meaning tshirt and shorts!!

Last year the winning time was around 30 minutes, which is fast considering the rolling course, one long climb, and 7,400 ft elevation. Except for about about 0.25miles on the road, the rest are either trail (with a short segment of sand, yuck!) and packed dirt cart paths.

All allusions of high ranking finishes disappeared with I saw the Kenyans had shown up. While Santa Fe has a program that brings in professional Kenyan runners to live and train, these Kenyans were actually from the nearby New Mexico Highlands University. Regardless they looked (and were) fast!

credit Max Mujynya

There is not much to say, other than the course was awesome, Kenyans were fast, and turned out to be a great day. I came in third in my age group and The Desert Babe came in second overall. A ringer from University of New Mexico ran and she was fast! Unfortunately, no pottery, instead awards were cowbells (which will be handy at Snow Shoe Nationals). But next year, I hear the new race director will bring back the pottery.

By the way, the winning time was over four minutes faster than last year, and nearly 7.5 minutes faster than me. Yikes!

#nmTrue

Make that TWO State Champions

credit RedRiverMiner.com

I honestly never thought this would happen, but I won my first race!! Now, keep in mind, there were only about a dozen other races, but I will take it!

The Desert Babe (openly copying that name from http://highdesertdirt.blogspot.com) and I traveled to the Enchanted Forest in Red River, NM, a beautiful little mountain town near Taos, to compete in the Low O2 Snowshoe Challenge. This is certainly an apt name, considering the race takes place at +9,500 feet! This race also serves as the New Mexico State Snowshoe Championship, a title The Desert Babe has won two times already (2012 and 2014, she was out of the state in 2013). Admittedly, we were both nervous going into the race: The Desert Babe had a title to defend and I am still a newby at this sport.

I ran for the first time in snowshoes and competed in my first snowshoe race several weeks ago at the Santa Fe Snowshoe Classic. It was a little over 5k and brutal, including a 1.5-mile long climb. This race had a good turnout (~75 races) and I placed eighth, which was great, but I was also over five minutes behind the winner!

So, going into yesterday’s race, my goal was to push as hard as I could. I wanted to try and stay close to the leaders, but also realized 10k is A LOT longer than 5k (like twice the distance…), so I really had no clue what running that far on snowshoes would feel like. The 5k race nearly killed me!

As the NM State Championship, the top two finishers in each age group qualify for the national championship, taking place in Eau Claire,Wisconsin this year. I had no doubt that The Desert Babe would win the women’s race, much less her age group (she beat all the women in the Santa Fe race by at least five minutes), so I knew we would be going to Wisconsin regardless. On a side note, The Desert Babe missed making the national team by only about 30 seconds last year, so I am confident she will make it this year! I knew the turn out for this race would be small, but I also did not want to qualify for nationals simply because there was no one else in my age group.

Before getting to the race, I should highlight how beautiful the location is. Red River is about 45 minutes from Taos, nestled in a tight little valley with a beautiful stream running along the town. There is a little ski hill here, and if you have ever seen the mountains here (part the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, southern Rockies), these mountains are STEEP and the skiing looks really intimidating! The Enchanted Forest is privately held land that has beautiful cross-country skiing and snowshoeing trails winding through a thick pine forest. And the snow was fantastic up there! It was thick and sticky, with typical crystal blue skies!

Ok, back to the race. Warming up, I saw two guys that looked like the main competition. One guy looked like he knew what he was doing and the other guy has his shoes bolted into his snowshoes, so obviously he was serious! Both were clearly older than me, but as The Desert Babe pointed out, especially with snowshoe running, age does not mean much. After The Desert Babe and I returned from out warm-up, several late arrivals had showed up. They both looked young and strong; one of them had beaten me at the Santa Fe race. Looks like I had my work cut out for me!!

The State Champs flexing their guns!

The race was a two-lap course (there was also a 5k race starting at the same time). It started in a field (after starting on single-track at Santa Fe, snowshoe races are much less hairy when they start in a field so everyone can line up across the starting line). The course immediately climbed up a groomed XC ski trail. About 0.2 miles in, it jumped onto a single track (aka, you would have to be good to pass) for 0.3 miles. It then got back onto the ski trail until around the 1.4 mile mark, where it got back onto single track nearly to the end of the first lap (5k mark), winding through trees on hilly, sometimes short, “punchy” climbs.

Right off the start, I was in fourth place. My heart felt like it was about to explode (even though it never really went over 150 bpm; not sure if it is altitude or what, but cannot seem to get my heart rate much over 150 bpm anymore). Once we got back onto the ski trail, ~1 mile in, I took third place up a long gradual climb, then second on the decent. But already first place was nearly out of sight, that guy was flying! First the rest of the first lap, I could hear third place behind me, although, I did feel some relief once I got onto the single track on the back half of the first lap, because I knew it would be hard for him to pass me on the single track.

When I went through the halfway point, I had developed some breathing room from third place, but first place was nowhere in sight. I was pleased with trying to hold on to second place. I just hoped I wouldn’t blow up on the second loop. The second half of the race was pretty uneventful. I kept putting time into the guy behind me and had the fortune of knowing what to expect on the loop (having already run it), so I felt more relaxed. The second half of this loop was great: winding through the trees and feeling comfortable with the gap I had on the guy behind me. I comfortably cruised into second place.

After finishing and nearly puking, I cheered The Desert Babe on as she finished two places behind me, crushing all of the women and becoming a three time NM State Snowshoe Champion!

Where it is always fun!

After finishing, she asked if I won, and I explained how badly I was crushed by Rene, the guy in front of me. But, I was comforted by the fact that the winner was racing in the world championships in several weeks. More importantly, he is from California, making me the NM State Champion!

Awards were not for several hours, so we headed to town for food (and milkshake). The whole time in town, The Desert Babe kept saying she thought Rene only ran the 5k distance, but I assured her he simply destroyed me in the 10k.

Well, during the awards ceremony, I was called up as the overall winner. It turns out Rene did only run the 5k distance, The Desert Babe was right! Not only did I win my first race, but I led for most of the race. Meaning this was the first time I ever led a race and won a race!!

All in all, it was an awesome day. Since we both won the race, The Desert Babe and I both won a free night at a yurt in Enchanted Forest and took home some nice pottery award. As if the day couldn’t get any better, on our way to pizza and beer, I say my first big horn sheep, and not just one, but an entire herd! #NMTrue!!

Now that you have read this long-winded ramble, here is more well-written article, but my favorite journalist: http://www.snowshoemag.com/2015/01/26/2015-low-o2-snowshoe-challenge/

GoPro!

Just hoping I don't crash off the start!!

Fly-fishing, dog long jump, running races, bike races, various kayak competitions, whitewater stand-up paddle boarding, bouldering, free-style slack-lining, and on and on all squeezed into the small (and posh) mountain town of Vail over one weekend. Welcome to the GoPro Games. Both The Girl and I were competing in multiple events; we were both racing the Vail Pass half marathon, she was running the 10k mountain running race, and I was riding the time trial bike race. We arrived Friday evening in time for dinner then quickly collapsed into bed.

There is one highlight to this night. In the middle of the night, I woke up from one of my most classic dreams. In the dream, The Girl was sitting, staring with complete focus down on her bare feet. I walked up to her. Without looking up or breaking any focus on her feet, she said in an intense, confident tone, “These are The Blade,” pointing with both arms to her feet, “when I run, they slice up the ground.” If I was not impressed (and a little intimidated) by her running ability before, The Blades erased all doubt.

Saturday morning, The Girl (aka The Blades) and I woke up early to run in the Vail Pass half marathon. We were told the race goes from the town of Vail up to Vail Pass (aptly named), but the true consequences of this race never really sunk in, we just knew it would include a lot of climbing. Also, while named a “half marathon,” the race was actually 13.7 miles, instead of the true half marathon of 13.1. Just a minor difference, right?

We started off the run around 8,200 ft and the first several miles were relatively flat as we worked our way to the edge of town. I was just trying to keep with The Girl, as we went through these miles at around 7:15 min/mile pace. Then slowly the road started to climb. My ignorance was soon crushed as I realized the road was never going to level. In fact, it was just going to slowly become steeper. It was a bad sign when around the five-mile mark I was seriously questioning if I would finish the race. Also around that time, The Girl slowly pulled away as my legs ached for flat ground; I only saw her in the distance the rest of the race (but I DID keep her kind of in sight the whole time). At mile seven, the course switched from road to bike trail. I walked through this aid station to make sure I actually got some water down; instead, I had to fight back from puking. Fortunately, I got moving again. There isn’t much more to say. It kept getting steeper and I kept getting slower. The last several miles I felt like I was barely moving (I was barely moving), but I kept “running.” To rub salt in the wound, the final 100 meters were one of the steepest parts of the race. After a brutal “race” (more like a slog) that finished at the pass at about 10,500 ft, the warm welcoming we got upon crossing was simply a volunteer saying “good job,” no music, nothing. The Girl and I looked at each other with a look of “What the heck did we just do?!”, got on the bus, and headed back to Vail. We were just happy to be done with that thing!

Because of our next races were the following morning, we wisely took measured to rest and recover so we were primed the next day; we spent the entire day walking around on a warm, really sunny day, watching other events going on – exhausting, but fun! We saw all the vendors, slack-lining, kayaking (seeing Eric Jackson doing flips was pretty awesome), some mountain biking, some dog jumping, and bouldering. Needless to say, we were both completely exhausted that evening. Again we crashed into bed, hoping we would have some energy for the next day.

The Girl’s race started at 8AM and mine at 9AM, which afforded me the opportunity to see her go off at the start. Her 10k started in the middle of town, then quickly headed to the ski hill where it abruptly went straight up. It was amazing to see the line of races working up the hill, pretty rough. I then headed over to my start to figure out when I was going off. It was a time trial, so each racer was staggered by 30-seconds. I guess I should have looked at the schedule earlier, because I discovered I was one of the last to go, leaving a little after 11AM!! Well, at least I would get to see The Girl finish. I made it back over to her finish line to see the first couple racers come in. Not long after the winners came in, I saw two women racing for a sprint finish. In fact, one was REALLY sprinting! Who could have that much energy left? But shortly before the finish line, the slower racer drifted into the other women. It is unclear if an elbow was thrown or not, but it was all in good competition and the racer who worked the hardest reached the line first. I then realized it was The Girl! Not only does she have blades, but she is not adverse to throwing some ‘bows to protect herself! Look out!

After killing some time, we made our way over to my race. I will admit, I was nervous about my start; I really did not want to be the guy who crashed off the starting block! Fortunately, the start went smoothly! The course was similar to the previous days run, but ended about 4 miles shorter. Early into the race, I realized the legs were pretty heavy and it would not be a strong performance. Then I started getting passed. Considering we were staggered by 30-seconds, it was really impressive to see how strong those guys were. I would be putting it modestly to say I got crushed! But, it was motivating to see how strong those guys were. I will remember that during trainer sessions!

As I rolled back in, the weather worsened. As we left the rain had started, perfect timing. All in all, it was a pretty exhausting and exciting weekend. It was amazing how many activities were going on and motivating to see so many great athletes! It is on the calendar for next year, and I will get revenge on that half marathon!

Lubbock, I kind of hate you.

I knew I was undertrained going in my race in Lubbock, Texas, the Buffalo Springs 70.3 triathlon. I knew it was going to be hot. I even accepted it would likely be windy. And I will admit I may have said something like, “I can probably fake my way through it” in my head. What happened in Lubbock, Texas on June 26, 2011 is something that I kept thinking I was going to wake up from in a cold sweat by safe in my bed.

When I left my car that morning it was 82degrees out and the wind was already blowing. When I returned to my car after the race it was 110degrees and the wind was blowing harder. I’ll spare you the play-by-play, but basically I got destroyed on the bike. Imagine someone in a row boat in the rough ocean while speed boats keep flying by. Well, that is basically how I felt on the bike. The wind pretty much took all the energy and self-respect that I had, threw it out the window, drove over it, then backed up to drive over it again, then spit on it, then vultures ate it. Yea, it went that well! By the time I got to the run, my legs were completely cooked. I won’t say much about the “run,” because I loose a part of my soul every time in think about it. To say the least, “running” the one mile between aid station seemed like a monumental expedition.

But, I finished. I say that not out of satisfaction or any sense of accomplishment. Rather that is the single last thread of dignity that this race let me keep. Fortunately, other people suffered as well; I was amazed to see how many people were getting I.V.’s after the race. It actually kind of looked like the fun/cool thing to do, but seeing some people shaking uncontrollably, I didn’t feel like I was worthy. But considering the speedboats that past my little dingy on the bike and run, there aren’t any excuses to be made.

I would like to say I will never return to Lubbock. But there is a competitive part of me that wants to come back and be the hammer to Lubbock instead of the wood (“The ‘wood’? You mean the ‘nail’?” No, I mean the thing getting a nail slowly driven into it). This was definitely an experience that, despite much effort, I will never forget. My nightmares will never be the same.

Half of an Ironman, still just a normal man

Anybody that knows me knows that I may have a tendency to fall into routines rather easily. I am not exactly sure what makes people think this, perhaps it is because in the past I have periodically spent many months consuming the same meal for every breakfast, lunch, and/or dinner. Perhaps it is because I tend to have a schedule that consumes nearly every hour of the day, which I repeat week after week. Basically, all pretty normal and standard procedure. BUT, this past weekend I decided it might be a good weekend to change things up and do something a little different.

So, on Saturday I figured why not wake up at 4:15 AM, sit in a beachside bathroom for 3 hours, go for a swim, bike, then run all morning, then spend the rest of the day curled in a ball feeling like WWIII was in full swing inside my abdomen. Going to see a movie was the alternate plan for the day.

Ok, maybe this was not completely impulsive and there was a little premeditation to the plan, and my swim-bike-run may have actually been called the Steelhead 70.3 Half Ironman in Benton Harbor, Michigan (the plan sounded a lot more hip without all the official names, did it not?) I also may have been training for this day (I know, I sound a lot more boring now).

The day did start at 4:15. When my mom dropped me off at 5:15 (kind of like getting dropped off at school by your mom, but I got to bring my bike to this school) a steady sprinkle-rain began. For those unfamiliar with triathlon, you begin with a swim, then head into a “transition area” where you have your bike, bike equipment, and running equipment stored. After the swim you hop onto your bike, then head back into the transition area a second time to drop off your bike and get your running shoes on and head out for the final leg of the race, the run. The swim start was going off in “waves,” simply meaning groups of people were started instead of one single mass start of everyone. The pros started first at 7AM and I was “fortunate” enough to be in the second to last wave, starting at 8:42AM! Unfortunately, the transition area closed at 6:30, so I could not just roll over to the race at 8:30 and say, “Let’s do this!” I had to get there in the morning darkness, set up my bike and equipment then hang out for several hours. While that sounds awesome, what is not awesome is when it is raining all morning. But what is surprisingly awesome is hanging out in the bathroom for about 2.5 hours. Perhaps the whole “hanging out in the bathroom” deterred people from doing it, but we had a lot of room in there. I should note, there was a changing room half to the bathroom, so I was not giving people high fives as they left the john.

Around 8AM I headed down the beach for the start. This race hosted a point-to-point swim, which means you walk about 2k (1.2miles to be exact) down the beach, then swim in a straight shot back to the transition area. Not only was the water (Lake Michigan) incredibly clean and a comfortable 76degrees, but they also have you swim “down current” (a lake surprisingly has a noticeable current, I did not know that). This made for an awesomely fast swim, a great artificial confidence boost. The swim went well, I fortunately avoided the dreaded heel-to-my-face move (typically another person’s heel to your face. I guess it could be both your heel and your face, but you might be experiencing bigger problems in that situation). I hopped out of the water and headed up to the transition area with an awesome crowd enthusiastically cheering on the guy behind me (I think I might name my son "John Tom Mike Jim Tim Bob Guillermo," that way he has a pretty good chance of always being cheered by everyone in nearly every situation). Then, I was onto the bike.

There is not much exciting to say about the bike, except all the rules that I was nervous about accidentally breaking (drafting, blocking, passing too slowly, passing on the wrong side, not dropping back after being passed, etc) were pretty much immediately broken by everyone else. The greatest challenge on the bike was having to pee for about 2 of the 2.5 hours. Surprisingly, peeing while riding the bike is incredibly difficult. The last 20 miles I decided it was time to “take care of business” before I started my run. It was not a “stage-fright” thing, I was perfectly comfortable with the idea, I mean it was essentially water anyway. But all I was able to do was make myself feel like I had to go even worse. I did learn that I might achieve success while coasting, but the downhills were all too short and again all I did was get really close to success, then it was time to pedal again. Honestly, I respect professional cyclists so much now, the skill of peeing on the bike is a masterful technique. But, I digress…

Finally, I hopped off the bike, full bladder and all, and started the run. First 3-4 miles I was feeling great and amazed how well I was moving. Finally, I decided it was time to stop thinking about peeing and made a quick stop in the porta-potty, and was off again. The second half of the run I began to fade fast. My stomach began cramping. I was familiar with this treacherous dance. On one hand it was a ticking bomb, once stomach cramping began it would only get worse. If I pushed too hard, it would shut me down. I guess you might say, this was damage control mode. Despite a poor second half, I trucked across the finish line with a decent morning behind me. I even managed to show off a couple nice moves on the run: a spin move to avoid a volunteer, a spin move to grab a cup by a distracted volunteer, and a little shimmy-sidestep to avoid another volunteer.

Crossing the finish line I felt completely spent, so I knew it was a good effort. After chatting with a fellow competitor for a bit (I am so good at talking to strangers) I headed off to find my mom who was my awesome support crew for the weekend. As I got close to her, a reminder quickly hit me. It was my stomach saying, “Remember me? Now it is my turn.” From there, the next 10 hours quickly degraded into me being in terrible pain. I did the best I could to cope. While getting some post race food for my support crew (mom), I managed to avoid throwing up all over the spread of food. I could not pass up the opportunity to hit up Bell’s Brewery with the weak hope of feeling better. Unfortunately, a Two-Heated on home tap was beyond reality, I did manage to put on a happy face for a picture before returning to my curled up state. I have to say my mom was awesome for being my support crew and putting up with me being a big baby after the race…ok I was probably also a big baby the days leading up to the race as well. While I am certain it was not very exciting for her, the highlight of my weekend truly was having my own support crew cheering me on and sharing the experience with her!!

At the end of the day, I have to admit that I thought I would feel different after the race. Granted I did not expect to be in permanent fetal position post race, but I mean this metaphysically. I honestly thought it would change the way I looked at things, like there was some wisdom hidden within those 70.3 miles. Accordingly, there was a little bit of, “Is that all there is?” when I finished. Having chewed on it for a couple days, it seems foolish to think one mornings experience would make me feel different about the world. But, comparing myself today to myself before I started training for the event, that has been transformative. I think it is on par with waking up the next day after your wedding, looking at your new wife/husband and saying “Is that all there is to being married?” It is a ridiculous thing to say and think. So, I guess I would say Saturday was my graduation or my celebration for my transformative experience. I have learned a great deal about myself at those 8AM swim practices when I think drowning would definitely feel better than another set, or those early morning mile repeat sessions when I achieve dry-heaving on my second out of four repeats, or on my long runs when it is just me and my consciousness (yes, they are two different people, how else could I have all those conversations?) for several hours, and on the long rides where I have made friends, or, or, or, or all those other times. Becoming half of an ironman (or tinman as my bro calls it) really is about the process. It is funny, looking back on the weekend now, I wish I took more pictures of me with my mom and with inspiring people I met. Makes you realize how what you think is important can obscure what feels important later…WWIII in your abdomen also tends to obscure things. So it goes…

(On a side note: the half Ironman distances are: 1.2mile swim, 56mile bike, 13.1mile run, and a whole lot of fun!!)

(Pictures top to bottom: (1) Pre-race day swim photo shoot, drink it up ladies! (2) 5:30AM, bike racked, rain about to start (3) About to head out for the run, there's no smiling in triathlon! (4) Meters away from the finish, is that a smile or a grimace? (5) Bell's Brewery, is that a smile or a grimace?)

Tri'ing to stay positive

I had set the alarm for 5AM, but shortly after 4AM I awoke to a dog panting in my face. It was my sister’s dog and the panting in your face was his way of saying he wanted let outside. Today was my first triathlon race of the season; in fact, it was my first tri in nearly two years due to my summer in Alaska last summer. Determined to get my final hour of sleep I rolled over and wished the dog away. By 4:45AM, after being reminded by the dog every ten minutes, I gave up, grumbling out of bed.

Unlike my mom’s dog’s, my sister’s dogs must be leashed outside or they will run. As I tied up her second dog, I thought to myself, “Why is Nala (my sister’s golden retriever) staring at me? Usually she runs into the yard. And I’m surprised how quickly Maggie (my mom’s golden retriever) ran into the yard, usually she just stares at me…” With that I realized that Maggie was staring at me, while Nala took off into the neighborhood. I was presented with the difficult decision of: (1) try to chase down the dog, or (2) cut the lost dog as a loss and get ready for my race. Considering how mad my sister would be, it seemed like net net chasing the dog would require less energy. Stepping into the yard with only shorts on, the opened up and began a torrential downpour. There I was, standing in the pitch black, being drowned, and no clue how I would begin to find this dog. After aimlessly wondering around the neighborhood I realized I should get my mom to join in on this search. As I returned to the house, that dumb dog was sitting at the door waiting to be let in! First challenge of the day: Completed.

After a 1.5 hr drive I arrived at the race with 45 min to the start of the race. I had taken my mom’s car, enabling me to put my bike inside in case the rain started again (which conveniently stopped after the dog was found). Walking up to the check-in, it dawned on me I had intentionally placed my helmet in my car so as not to forget it. I did not think about forgetting to take MY car. There I was, 1.5 hrs from my helmet and 45 min to the start of the race. Selfishly I figured I might as well try and get a family member to drive it out here, otherwise I could just do the swim and call it a day. My dad agreed (highlighting the awesomeness of my family).

The helmet would not arrive until 20 min after I was out of the water, but at least I could participate in all 3 events. It was a bummer not to be able to compete. With 20 minutes to the race time the sky opened up with torrential rain, thunder and lightening. Most importantly, the race was delayed. Amazingly, the helmet might arrive in time! Now was a race against the clock. My phone has this great ability of no longer working when the moisture around it got too high (this could even be a sweaty pocket on a hot day). I knew my phone wouldn’t last long. The only spot out of the next flood I could find was a port-a-pot. I stood in the bathroom trying to relay as much info to my dad as I could. I also finished preparing for the race in the small space.

As quickly as it came, the race stopped. As I lined up for the start I realized I wasn’t very nervous. All the chaos of the morning had completely pre-occupied me. When I got out of the water my dad was standing there with helmet in hand.

Other than everything being completely drenched, a very choppy swim, windy bike/run, and getting burned because in the downpour I didn’t even consider sunscreen, it turned out to be a fantastic day. Despite these challenges during the race, but spirits were high because I was just glad to participate. I find it amazing that while any one of those setbacks (the dog, the dog, the helmet, the rain, the wind, the sun, my bleeding feet) could have justifiably called it a day, but it turned out pretty awesome.

I don’t have any pics from the race, but here are some from last weekend’s Saturday swim and run (not pictured: the giant milkshake after the run!!)

Lists.

"There are things that can be controlled and things that can't. Somewhere in the spaces between the two we fashion out art and our lives"
-Jim Bridwell

Unfortunately, this is an adventureless posting again. I know, I'm getting lame. But, I recently pulled out an old notepad and discovered a list I had made circa fall 2008. On a side note, I love making lists. But really, who doesn't? This list was appropriately titled, "Adventure List." As the title alludes, this list included many adventures I hope to accomplish.

I remember considering posting the list on this very blog at the time, but then opting out. I felt it might appear like I was trying to act all "hardcore" and "adventurous," when really I am just a normal man. The amazing thing is that over the last year and a half I actually accomplished the first thing on my list!

This got me to think, everyone should make adventure lists! These lists should be without limit. I'm not trying the preach, "You can accomplish anything you put your mind to" mentality. My motivation is more intimate. The great thing about routines is that they are comfortable and efficient. Adventures are neither of these, that is why they are called adventures. But the thing that separates us from computers is not our ability to keep a routine, it is our ability to do exactly not that -- adventures. Looking at pictures from Elizabeth and Casey's travels around Thailand and Myanmar, I always think: something that seemed so inconvenient to routine and expenses opened a world that from third party perseective simply looks magical.

So, here's my list. I hope you make your own and dream bigger than big. I also do not plan to cross anything off, rather just check how many times I've done it. Finally, remember stories that begin with, "Remember when we..." are much more interesting than, "This one time I..." So adventure with a loved one.

Adventure List

1. Ride 200-miles in a day
2. Do an Ironman
3. Race Ironman Kona
4. XC ski tour Yellowstone
5. XC ski / ice climb tour Yostemite
6. Climb a big wall
7. Climb El Cap
8. Run a 50-mile race
9. Do a multi-stage bike race
10. Learn to fly an ultra-light
11. See the Northern Lights
12. Ride from LA to San Fran
13. Go to Japan
14. Bike through Laos
15. Go to Mongolia
16. Bike from eastern Russia through Mongolia
17. Climb in Greenland
18. Ride the Leadville 100
19. Climb in Newfoundland
20. Fly fish the Two Hearted River
21. Go to Bell's Brewery
22. Ride a wood velodrome
23. Go on a bike tour with a close friend (to be honest, I just added this one today, but something I've thought about for a while)

I added some pretty pictures because if you are anything like me, you would just look at the pictures and opt out of reading any of my ramblings. (Pictures include: a normal summer night at Caesars Creek, Ohio (I love Ohio); Denali Park, Alaska; me and my "little" brother in Hatcher's Pass, Alaska).

“I got pooped on, but that was an awesome adventure!”

"There are things that can be controlled and things that can't. Somewhere in the spaces between the two we fashion out art and our lives"
-Jim Bridwell


I’m writing this sitting in the airport waiting for the final leg of my red-eye flight from San Francisco, arriving a little late after a TWO DAY DELAY! This delay has not only provided adequate time to finally write a blog posting, but also consider situations out of my control. I do not hesitate to admit that I’m a bit of a control freak with my life; I quickly feel trapped when I do not have an easy escape.

Granted when I was first told that it would be at least 2 days before I would have a chance of leaving, my first reaction was to punch the guy in the face. But I quickly reasoned that might not help the situation, and the counter would likely get in the way of a clean hit. While still recognizing the situation definitely sucked, I soon starting planning how to take advantage of two more days in San Fran. All this really hit me the next day when I finally had time for my first run in over two weeks. As I ran along the bay, watching an enormous suspension bridge rise out of the fog, I still wished I was home, but recognized this delay was not the destruction of my holiday.

Few things ever seem to go right, and that is life. I am not trying to get all feel good, let’s hold hands, and sing around the campfire. But I realize most of the things that I call “adventures,” are actually things going wrong. My epic Mount Wilson adventure = things gone wrong. The epic long day of climbing Mount Whitney = not the day we planned. The last 100 miles of the Fireweed race, the last 6 miles of every marathon = things not going right. In fact, there is a very thin line between “adventure” and life taking a poop on you. Coming from a control freak, I have learned the delineation between these two outcomes many times comes down to me; do I decide to smile and say, “bring it on!” or do I scowl and say “@$#@#!@!##%($*$#$(@#)!@$%!!!!!!”

This is where Jim Bridwell is spot on. I have learned the most about myself when things are going wrong. You can prepare under controlled conditions, but there is a reason that you do not take tests with all the answers right in front of you. Understanding that things will go wrong and this is the essence of the experience, all you can do is just embrace it. Now I go into marathons looking forward to the final 6 miles, because that when I really start to suffer. Without that suffering, it is just another run.

This fall I returned to the Columbus Marathon. I ran with the Boston qualifying pace group again, but this time I was not a newby to marathon or Boston. It was interesting to see the other runners who were in the same spot I was two years ago: first time marathoners with a dream goal of getting to Boston. Around mile 19, I pulled up next to one said runner. He mumbled, “I need to do something to wake myself back up.” Looking at him, I knew his goal of Boston would not be won this year and in this sense his race was over. The guy was clearly working way too hard by this point in the race and beginning to suffer too early as well. But the next 6 miles were ample time to remedy these challenges. I knew his race was over by the look on his face. I told him, “Smile, you are running your first marathon!” He just responded with a heavy, “Yea.” The problem was that this race was not simply his first marathon, it was the means to his second marathon, Boston. While I considered explaining all this to him, I reasoned he was suffering too much to have some random guy lecture him nearing mile 20 of a marathon.

It takes a unique personality to willingly suffer. This really hit me during my fantastic opportunity to run with my brother-in-law (BIL) in his first marathon. Fortunately, we chose an incredibly difficult trail marathon in December for this first race. As cramping and IT band pain hit him around mile 16, running for over 5 hours in pain seemed absurd. After seeing the look on his face after the finish line, it all made sense. Any challenge, be it 5k, 200-miles, or plane flight home can go completely wrong. There are too many variables out of our hands. But, what is in our hands and only our hands is the decision to throw in the towel and punch the airline attendant in the face or to roll with it. Even if we cross the finish line on our hands and knees, we can hold our chin up, smile, and say, “I got pooped on, but that was an awesome adventure!”

PS. Shortly after writing this posting, my final flight got canceled.

To be epic or not to be epic, that is the question

When I came across the website for the Thursday Evening Epic Runs the first thing I thought was, "I'm doing that!!" But the second thing I thought, "Are these really epic runs?" I mean, that is a bold statement, "Epic." It is a word that I do not use lightly. So, I began to make a mental list of ways for a run to be "epic." This list included,
1. Be stalked by a grizzly, that then leads to a chase. After becoming cornered, I am forced to a grappling fight to the death, where I reluctantly, but honorably finish the bear.
2. Fall into a steep canyon, where I manage to break my fall by the rushing, ice cold river where I am then thrown off a waterfall. I save myself from being crushed on the rocks below by catching an over-hanging branch with one arm. While my wet hands nearly slip, I manage to throw myself to land.
3. After a fellow runner falls from a cliff, I perform emergency first aid, innate skills that I never knew I possessed, but the intense situation spontaneously developed.
4. Aliens.
(funny how most of my situations entailed me becoming a supernatural hero...no, I'm not narcissistic at all!).

Well, let's start with the description of the group:

The Epic Concept

The Thursday Evening Epic events are non-competitive, adventurous training runs HELD YEAR ROUND on and off trails in southcentral Alaska. Generally these events are of 2 to 4 hours duration. Participants are expected to be capable of surviving the difficult conditions present, which often include, but are not limited to, rugged terrain, nearly impenetrable vegetation, severe weather, uncertain routes.... Participants and leaders MUST BE SELF SUFFICIENT. If adversity happens, participants and leaders MUST BE COMMITTED TO SELF RESCUE.

Hmm, not a bad start for an epic run. But concepts can be very different from reality. What will the run actually be like? Here is the description of the run:

On Bird Flew

We will start on the Bird Ridge Trail but will quickly diverge on hobbit paths leading to the McHugh Falls environs. From there our route will proceed to a steep, prickly, rock scramble up to Bird Ridge. The route finishes via the Bird Ridge Trail. This is one of the classics in the Epic route lexicon.

OK, enough prelude, onto the actual run. As the description outlines, we began on the trail, but quickly cut off. This "hobbit path" consisted of what appeared to possibly be a game path at one time, but has since totally overgrown. Or, maybe hobbits are 2foot tall creatures, in which case, it was still overgrown. Soon we ran past what appeared to be fresh bear scat right in the middle of the "path." That's when I knew this would be interesting. We made our way over to a spot overlooking the falls down in a steep ravine (two of the runners went down to the pool and reported about 10 massive silvers (a type of salmon) hanging out, unable to make it up the falls, aka bear buffet). It was now time for up. Heading up to the ridge the path was very clear, go up. We started on soccer ball size rubble, this became thick wild roses (which are much more pretty when you don't have to run through them), then more rock rubble, then 3rd class rock climbing, then jungle-gymes of alder, then repeat. Finally, after over 2.5hrs, we broke above tree-line, then a relatively short, steep scramble to the ridge. The views were incredible!! The amazing part was that what took over 2.5 hrs to get up, took a mere 1/2 hr of constant, steep, thigh burning, knee crushing, pounding down the ridge line.

OK, OK, was it an epic run?!? Well, it wasn't much of a "run." We jogged through the valley in the beggining, ducking under branches and climbing through downed logs. But, once we started heading up, it was more of a fast hike. It was so steep and the rock so loose that travel was not fast. The downhill, well that was running (and my thighs are "loving" that today!). Ok, so it was a "run." Now for the major question. We were definitely in bear country, but no bears sited. I would say there was no trail, just a matter of knowing a direction and getting there as fast as you can. The uphill was, well steep. It was definitely an adventure finding the least ridiculous route up. It was awazing to turn around and everything think, "WOW!" Finally, the view from the ridge line was fantastic. I'm not going to split straws here. My life was never in danger, but I have never been on a "run" like that, so yea, I'd say it was epic. Can't wait until next Thursday's run!

Thursday Evening Epic Runs

Running with humans vs running with a wolf(dog)

This started with a beautiful ~26mile tour of Anchorage. A couple hundred of us started in Northern Anchorage by Ellendorf Airforce Base. This include an awesome, scenic ~10 mile stretch along gravel roads through the base. On our left were some big green mountains, and the road traveled through remote woods. Last year a black bear and cub was spotted out here. While beautiful, my feet were ready to get off the gravel, where we headed onto narrow dirt single-track trail. The rest of the tour followed rural roads and bike paths surrounded by trees and with very few glimpses of buildings or cars. Bottom line, a real treat. Added bonus: not feeling destroyed and excited for more adventures on the day!

After my scenic run through Anchorage, Sarah and I headed up to Hatcher’s Pass to meet Kyle and Krish. We had lucked into a housesitting gig for the weekend. The house was awesome, Hatcher’s Pass is beautiful, but the dogs were what made the weekend. Atigun (“wolf-dog”), while skiddish at first, soon warmed up and never faded in energy to play. Ishi (“fat-dog”), was not shy for second, immediately fighting for all of your attention, which usually resulted in him sitting on you, blocking any chance of you paying Atigun any attention.

Net net, a great little weekend.