“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.

Hey Moose, You're an Asshole!

Moose, ever since I first met you, I knew there was something wrong about you. But I at the time I could not quite put my finger on what exactly made me know this. After today, it has all become clear to me.

I just wrapping up a fantastic early morning of mountain biking by bombing my way down the Powerline Trail from Flattop Mountain. While I experienced 3+ miles of a broad frequency spectrum of vibrations making my hands feel they were about to pop off the bars and yelling "Heeeyyyyy beeeeeaaaarrrrr!!!!" (this is a newly adopted practice as I finally realized that excessive throat clearing and occasional whistling probably was not the best bear deterrent. And while I have always dreamed of petting a bear in the wild, this morning was focused on biking, not man-eating-wild-animal-petting). I had a momentary thought of what would happen if I came around the corner at mach-to-fast-to-even-dream-of-stopping to find an enormous moose standing in the trail. I quickly dispelled this though, partly because the vibrations were inducing a shaken baby syndrome that prevented holding a thought for more than 20seconds, but also because I mean how ridiculous of an idea is that!? I mean, come on!

Well, since Luck and Irony are best friends and also both assholes, I soon found myself uncomfortably close to a momma moose and calf standing next to the trail. Slamming on the brakes, and after a short slide finally stopping, Mrs. Moose and I stared at each other, frozen in shock. I was thinking, "THAT'S A BIG MOOSE!" and she was thinking, "That is an incredibly handsome man on a pretty sweet bike!" My second thought was, "What a great photo opportunity!" but fortunately that was soon followed with my third thought, "Getting trampled by a 1000+lbs moose would really hurt, and I bet that ornery little calf would throw in at least one cheap kick while I was down." As I contemplated turning around, but realizing that would require biking back up hill, which didn't seem like an option I was willing to do at that point, luckily momma moose made the decision for us; as she snapped out of the trance my cunning good looks put her in, she and baby in tow took off down the hill. But, not only did she run down the trail, in my direction of desired travel I'll remind you, but after traveling 20yrds, she decided she was far enough and slowed to a stroll and started eating again.

Which brings me to my first reason you are an asshole, moose. You are living proof that evolution and "survival of the fittest" has loopholes. We've already established you are the ugliest animal I have ever seen. But how can someone yelling "HEEEEYYY BEEEEAAAARRR!!" on repeat not be at all alarming? Does it really take me yelling it right into your ear to make you take notice? I mean, what if I was a bear? All it would take would be for me to act like I wasn't a bear by acting like I was trying to scare away the bears, but I was really a bear myself. You would have been an easy breakfast. I should have bit you just to prove my point.

Eventually this moose slowly worked her way off the trail, graciously allowing me to pass, you jerk! Well it wasn't much later until I encountered another moose standing in the middle of the trail! She was again struck by my good looks, but I saw her earlier, and was just starting to get annoyed. The kicker is, she just stood there! I mean, do you not understand you are standing on the trail? Fortunately, as I creeped closer trying to make my yelling, "GET OF THE TRAIL, MOOSE!" more understandable, I saw that I could actually take a side trail before reaching you. I hadn't even traveled 30yrds before I reached the third asshole of my morning, a very large bull moose STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TRAIL!!!!! Now, this is too much. And this brings me to my second reason for my dislike of you, you always block the trial! If I had 10ft long toothpick legs that can easily step through underbrush I sure as hell would not hang out on a trail. Going back to my first point, you are in a predator-prey status, and you are the prey. Standing in the middle of an established trail is probably not the most discrete place to hang out.

So, I stood there with one moose in front of me (on the trail) and one moose behind me (on the trail). I know you are hard of hearing, so I yelled loud and clearly, "GET OFF THE TRAIL, YOU DUMB MOOSE!!!!" but nothing. In fact, my yelling must have been soothing because everyone put their heads back down and resumed chewing.

Which brings me to my final reason. In picture and from a distance moose look like these benign animals just hanging out in the forest chewing away without a care. You are essentially saying, "Aren't I just so nature and serene!?" NO, no you aren't. I know you are really saying, "Aren't I so docile, until you step too close to me, even though I am clearly standing in you path, and then I'll kick you in the head, then continue eating grass again."

Moose, most animals run away when they see danger. Hell, even a bear runs away when they hear me, not out of fear, but out of courtesy. Moose, you are the rudest animal I know. You are an asshole....and ugly!

FIREWEED!!!

This story actually begins about a year ago. It was the middle of yet another awesome summer in Dayton and I had signed up for the Young's Dairy Charity Ride. This year, the ride left from Young's Dairy in Yellow Springs, Ohio and traveling along the fantastic backroads of Ohio made its way to Ohio Northern University. While there were several options, the main ride was a century ride up to ONU, stay there that night, then a 80mile ride back the next day. Having completed several centuries before, I was eager to try something new, see how far I could push myself. So the challenge I set was to ride up to ONU, then ride back in the same day! I honestly had no idea if I was fit enough to do it. Well, after 3hrs of feeling nautious and in some of the greatest pain I have ever been in, I discovered that I was not fit enough. As I laid in the grass at mile 160 of my adventure waiting to be picked up by my mom, I realized that my mistakes occured early in the race. While I was focused on keeping good pace so that I could get back before dark, I had under hydradetd and fueled. By the time I began the feel the effect it was too late. Driving home, I said to myself, "That was a great challenge that I didn't achieve, but I'm never doing it again." Like the time I said, "Never again" after my first marathon, I was soon wetting my lips for a repeat performance.

Saturday July 11, 2009, Anchorage, Alaska: The opportunity to achieve my double century had finally been realized, the Fireweed!! This event hosted 50, 100, and 200 mile races, and the crown jewel being a 400mile race. The 200mile race began at Sheep Mountain Lodge near Palmer, Alaska and finished in Valdez, Alaska. Ending the race in Valdez provided an extra challenge as it left me 300miles from Anchorage. I considered the adventure of taking a ferry the next day from Valdez to Whittier where I could then try to hitch a ride back to Anchorage. However, the thought of sleeping in my cycling clothes and then wearing them all next day on the ferry did not sound appealing. So, I added a team member to Team Mike Cleveland, and Sarah became the official team driver, dropping me off at the start and driving me home from Valdez.

When the race went off and within the first mile I observed a seam was tearing in my cycling shorts, my ass already felt sore, and my legs felt dead, I knew this would be a long day. At the first aid station I found a spread that included Clif Bars, big soft cookies, pb&j, fresh fruit, etc. I could only pull myself back on the bike and resist the urge of filling all my pockets with free food by knowing in 30miles I would find the same spread. My division (200-mile solo) only consisted on ~50 riders, so we quickly became spread out. It was extremely disheartening to be passed by so many people, but my goal was just to finish and I recognized for someone to sign up for a 200-mile race, they likely are a fairly avid rider, right? It provided me an excuse to feel better about myself at least. The solo aspect was fitting for this adventure, where drafting was prohibited and the only conversation was a short hello as one rider would rarely pass another.

Knowing last year's mistakes, I took my time as the aid stations, stuffing down food and chugging as much fluid as my bladder could hold. I once read an article about an Ironman athlete describing his training including "long rides" that were so long that it made the actual race distance of 112miles seem short. I began to appreciate that perspective when I hit mile 100 and thought, "Great, only 100 more!" Unfortunately, around this time is when my IT band decided it start tightening up.

The highlight of the second century had to be riding Thompson Pass. I had heard of this pass we had to make it over, but had not clue what it would involve. We began the climb around mile 150. It was not a very steep climb, the steepest part being around 7% (whatever that means, that is what I was told, but it doesn't really mean anything to me). Surprisingly the small chain ring felt better on my knee and I got a second wind as I moved up the pass at a glacial speed (10mpg). This may sound miserable, if it wasn't for the scenery. We worked up into a valley with mountains that still had snowpatches, beaufitul green, steep slopes, awesome waterfalls, and glaciers as we got closer to the summit. The greatest challenge was the headwind that met us at the base of the climb and stayed with us the rest of the ride. It wasn't horrible, but was definitely an added challenge when you just want to be done.

The last aid station of the race was at mile 162, only several miles from the summit. Behind this aid station was an incredible view of Worthington Glacier. After a long decent we followed a flat road along the final ~30miles into Valdez. This would have been extremely painful if it had not been one of the most beautiful stretches of road I have ever been on. We followed a roaring river that was gray in color from all the rock powder that glacial water transported. Up in the high valleys were glaciers spilling from cirques. Then the road wound into a narrow Keystone Canyon, which hosted massive vertical rock faces rising from the roaring river and several hundred foot waterfalls spewing out snow and glacial melt. In portions the canyon was as wide as the road and the river sandwiched between beaufitul vertical metamorphic rock slabs.

Despite the last hour feeling like it lasted days, at around ride time 11.25 hrs, I rolled into Valdez at a little before 8PM. Technically the ride was only 194miles, but at that time adding 6miles just seemed like a technicality. While this distance has stymied me a year before, I had finally done it!

Being driven back to Anchorage in the wee hours of the morning (thank you Sarah so so very much!) I felt very content with today's adventure. It wasn't the distance that mattered to me. I was pleased I was able to accomplish a goal that I legitimately did not know if I was capable. But most importantly, for over 11 hrs I was able to see what makes Alaska so amazing. The landscape was amazing, I had seen the smallest library you can imagine in the middle of nowhere, I had seen the end of the Trans-Alaskan Pipeline (which was extra cool since I had seen the start of the same pipeline just several days prior up at Prudhoe Bay, North Slope), and I got to ride my bike alongside a glacier!

BLACK GOLD!!

Imagine a place that has ocean views, surrounded by hundreds of pristine lakes and ponds, and carefully nestled in ecologically fragile and heavily protected land. It is not uncommon to see herds of caribou and musk ox crossing roads, and you always have to be on the lookout for bears. In addition to the multi-million dollar state-of-the-art facilities, there is unlimited free food including ribs, steak, lobster, salmon, freshly baked cookies, ice cream…I’ll stop because it is making me too hungry. Did I mention all this doesn’t cost you a dime? Sounds like the most incredible eco-tourism resort, right? Well, its actually the North Slope, Alaska.

When the plane dropped out of the fog (literally) onto the runway in Deadhorse this morning, the thermometer read in the high 30’s. First impression: probably the flattest place I have ever seen, a strong cold wind, everything looked dirty, and the white sky melted into the thick fog cloaked the land. AWESOME!

Over the course of the day we visited a rotary and coil drill rig. I’ll spare you the details of the difference because I doubt you really care. What is cool, these rigs cost at least $200K PER DAY, even if they just sit there.

Lets put this in perspective:
1. If an error is made and the drill bit is damaged and needs replacing, at the rotary rig we saw today, it would take about 24hrs to pull up the bit ($200K), then you would have to replace the bit ($20K). Not a cheap mistake.
2. Ok, suppose no major mistake is made. A drill project could take a month to couple months (remember that’s at >$200K/day!).
3. The drill rigs are actually on wheels. This enables them to “easily” (at a couple miles/hr) drive to a new wellhead. The price of this move runs around a cool million.

Ok, ok big money, so what?! Keep in mind, they wouldn’t be doing all this if it wasn’t profitable. Wow!

I can’t finish this without talking about the food. I’ve heard that people who survive experiences when they nearly starve have a tendency to hoard food the rest of their lives. While I have never been close to starving and likely never will, I do have the tendency of hoarding food when its free. When the ribs are free, why not fill your plate? And when you are going home, why not take a doggy bag full of cookies? Good thing I don’t work up there, or I would definitely grow a nice gut.

By the end of the day, I touched the Arctic Ocean (Prudhoe Bay to be exact, but it’s all the same, right?), the sky cleared to beautiful blue, I had a full belly, and bag of cookies. Oh yea, not only was it all free (to me), but I actually got paid for it. I like it!

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

EARTHQUAKE!!!!!!

Like a proud father, I experienced my first earthquake today!!!! It was a nice little 5.4, with an epicenter ~92km NNW of me. At first I thought a co-worker was moving something heavy around, thinking it was odd that he was not making any noise. Then the shaking became so great, that suddenly it hit me, "EARTHQUAKE!!!" I had a grin plastered to my face for the next several hours. I was so excited I could not concentrate on my work for most of the day. Being on the 6th floor helped in my ability to feel it. I hope to be ready next time so I can try to pick out the different wave arrivals.

As Kristin said, I have now lost my earthquake virginity; I never thought the first time could feel so good!

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.