Going longer

As the date of my impending trail race nears, I've had plenty of time (mainly on the trails) to think about the concept of going longer.  I would say going "long", since for me this really does feel that I'm pushing myself to max miles per week, especially considering that I'm a total mileage underachiever, but for other people, my long runs barely count.  Still, it's all relative, and October did see me ramping up my mileage significantly.

This 'ramp up' has been kind of fun and kind of scary.  I've had a history of injuries, and I hoped to avoid that situation, obviously.  My knee can be temperamental, and often a cortisone shot can fix it.  I had one in June, and I'm trying to maintain the status quo until January, so I didn't want to go that route quite so soon after the last one.  I would say that running 3 times a week is my sweet spot, and even if I'm upping my mileage, I can stay healthy if I'm not an idiot about it.

As for the longer runs in October and on Saturday, I can't complain about any of them.  At times I set out hoping to barely hit 10 and found myself finishing 12 or 13.  I often felt quite lucky while on the trail, not only because my body was cooperating but also because we've had some amazing fall weekends!  The light has changed, and this weekend especially I enjoyed moving between the shade and the golden sunshine.  I also felt completely spooked on one run - two weeks ago, it was an unusual, dreary day and I hit the trails for a solo run.  As I crossed a stream or two and then ran through some high grass, listening only to my breathing, I did think that it would be the perfect setting for Kujo or Jason or Johnny or any other horror/suspense-movie villain lying in wait...

This Saturday marked the longest run that I've completed in ages - maybe 10 years or so?!  We couldn't have wished for a perfect day - sunny and crisp at 9:00 am, it warmed up but was never hot.  It was great to run (and shuffle) most of the 15+ miles with a partner who patiently waited for me as I huffed and puffed along behind him.   This run reminded me of the importance of patience while running.  We set out climbing and worked our way up the El Prieto trail around JPL.  It's not a terribly difficult trail, but I wouldn't describe it as easy either, especially because I felt that I had to be so aware of mountain bikers zooming downhill.  Once we hit the fork in the road, heading to Brown Mountain, the trail became less rocky and the grade eased up a bit.  I hit a few moments during miles 3-4 when I questioned whether I could go much further, but once we hit miles 6 - 10, I could actually enjoy the experience! Again, pushing through the tough miles allowed me to appreciate those 'easy' miles and also the views that the higher elevation offered!  By mile eleven or so, it occurred to me that I could run for another hour or so, but by mile 13, exhaustion had begun to set in.  At this point, Rob and I split up - I was on my own for the final 2 miles or so.  The first solo mile went well.  I felt that I was slowing down, but I kept up a decent pace.  The last mile, however, felt like my Waterloo.  My body ached (legs, hips, back) and I was just damned tired.  Fortunately, it was the final mile, so I pushed on and managed to hit the 15.5 mile mark.  Yippee!

Again, it was a long, SLOW run, but it felt almost luxurious to be out on the trail for several hours, just taking in the day, measuring the twists and turns of the trail, trying to cautious about bikers heading up and down trail (at one point, I was totally lost in thought and when a mountain biker and I almost collided, I was as startled as a deer and, very un-deerlike, yelled "Fuck!"), and also losing myself in the movement of the trail and of myself and contemplating the idea of an even longer run.  There was a definite ebb-flow quality about this run as I clocked some painfully slow miles which were then followed by a few decently speedy miles.  Hitting 15 miles did mark a bit of a milestone for me, and I'm looking forwarding to the full 30k in just a few weeks.

I will say that running longer does open up the question - can I go 'long'?  Is another marathon (last one being Philly, 1996) a possibility?  A part of me thinks that I could definitely run a marathon, no problem.  That would be the overly-optimistic persona that does reside in me, but I also try to listen to my more reasonable voice when it comes to matters of running.  I honestly believe that I've managed these longer runs because they've been on trails.  While trail running is hard, it also slows me down, and I think it's easier on my knees and other joints than the relentlessness of pounding out miles on the pavement.  So, what is funny about my idea of going long is that I would lean more towards a longer trail run and, for the moment, put aside any thoughts of marathon madness.

All this is hypothetical, at any rate.  We'll see how I run in Malibu and, more importantly, how I feel during and after the race!

November!

Am I the only person who is pretty damn excited that it's November?  Is it terrible that one of the reasons that I'm so looking forward to the month is due to a long weekend (Veteran's Day weekend - we have an in-service that is pretty creative this year) and, of course, Thanksgiving.  While we love traveling and visiting family and friends and all that this entails, we have zero plans for Thanksgiving weekend, and I cannot say how appealing that is to me.  Lame?  Maybe, but also indicative of my need for a total break.

November 1st, yesterday, came and went with two notable items for me.  First of all, I finished 18 student recommendations, a record for me.  Shew!  Most of the recommendations were quite good, some were even excellent, but a few were probably weaker than they would have been if I had been able to take a day or two more with them.  I know that I nailed some of them, but I do wish that I'd had a day or two more for the final 3-4 letters.

The second item of note is that I signed up for this event:

So excited about Vineman!  It's crazy that I signed up for a race that is in mid-July.  Even crazier that it sold out yesterday - the first day that registration opened.  After many conversations about 2013 with myself and with Michael ("I want to do an Ironman, I can't do an Ironman, it would be great to do an Ironman next year, this is a ridiculous idea for about a thousand reasons but I can think of a one or two great reasons...."), I - we - decided that such a goal was not a viable option.   So, I've set my sights on two long-course races.  I'm waiting to sign up for the other one, but my impatience got the best of me for Vineman.  Turns out, that was a good thing!  

As for the "why" - well, a lot of it has to do with timing.  At the moment, I plan to head south to Nicaragua again in August and while I loved my experience at the Boulder 70.3, I don't want that race to cut into the Nicaragua trip.  I will, however, still have time once summer break starts to both ramp up my training AND taper before the race in mid-July.  Also, Vineman seems like it will be a great venue. California wine country - why not?!  And the course sounds great.  

I can't wait for July, but in the meantime, I'm focusing on my trail race November 18th.  I pushed myself in October to run longer (and slower).  This definitely isn't marathon training and makes me realize that tackling 26.2 would be rough (and I have no idea how I did it so many years ago) as  I find that setting out on the double digit runs is daunting for me!  I maxed out at a 13.5 mile long run two weeks ago, and I plan on a 15 or so mile run tomorrow.  I'm excited and nervous about it and am trying to remember what a friend said -  think about it as a fast hike. 

So, fast hiking, here I come!

"Race" Report: Lasse Viren 2011

Waking up groggy and with a headache on a Sunday morning (thanks the martini the night before - possibly?) did not exactly motivate me to hop out of bed, full of energy and ready to go.  But, I did haul my butt out of bed and started on the coffee and a somewhat healthy breakfast, hoping that this, along with an Advil, would better prepare me for the day.  Not the best start and it certainly did not forebode that the day would unfold splendidly!
By the time Michael and I were headed west, the sun was up, greeting a beautiful day, but the temperature stayed stubbornly around 48 degrees.  I kept my eye on the car thermometer, wondering how much I was going to freeze on the run or whether I should wear my old blue Patagonia top (circa 1996) for the run.   We found parking on PCH, ooohed at the scenery as we walked to Sycamore Canyon Campground, and shuffled along to stay warm.
The main thought running through my mind was not "Oh hell, I hope that I can finish this thing!".  If it weren't for the chilly weather, I probably would have turned over that thought time and again.  Instead, I kept looking at my watch, wishing that the 9:00 am hour would arrive sooner than later, so that I could get moving!  Finally, the hour arrived!  It was time to race, or merely run, depending on your definition.  I told Michael to expect me in 2 hours - I set the bar low for my expectations!  While I would be running along trails and through canyons, he planned to cross PCH and hang out on the beach.  I envied him for just a moment!  Putting aside such thoughts, I peeled off my top layer, begrudgingly, and tried to improve my position before the race organizer/announcer called "On your mark, set, go!".  No gun, just a running start.
As for the race?  It seems like a blur, but I will call it a 'race'!  I definitely started out on the slower side, unsure of the pace that I should try to set for myself, and cautiously feeling out the dips in the rocky trail as we wound our way through the canyon.  At a certain point, remembering someone saying "The first six miles are uphill and and the last six are downhill", I decided to kick it into gear.  My only chance of moving up was to push on the uphill - from experience, I can actually pass people on the ascent!  I didn't actually notice much of an uphill, more rolling hills, until I hit miles 5-6 when there was a nice, looooooonnnnnnggggg climb.  Lovely!  I stuck to my plan, pushed myself on the uphill and managed to pass a nice group of people, and then I kicked it on the downhill.  At that point, I was elated with my performance, and was ready to call it a day, but no such luck.  Many more miles remained...   Fortunately, my body and mental will/resilience (or whatever) held up over the last few miles.  I tried to enjoy the run, feeling the trail, especially when I returned to the familiar territory that I traveled the first few miles (it was a "lollipop" course), but by miles 10, 11 and 12, my mind was entirely focused on one thing: the finish line!
Which I crossed at 1:50 and some change.  I was psyched about finishing and being able to walk, and there was a nice group of people who gave me a few high-fives and/or hugs as we shared the post-race high.  We chatted over bananas, pretzels and other post-race goodies.   It was a low-key event on the whole, which made me appreciate the entire race experience that much more.  Even better - I love the t-shirt!  I can't wait to wear it!
Post-post race - a somewhat relaxing lunch at Neptune's Net, something of a seafood dive along PCH, just south of the race.  A nice cold beer and a plateful of fish and chips later, and I felt that life could not be more perfect on a Sunday afternoon.

Mt. Wilson Trail Race - A decision made over margaritas!

It seems that drinking margaritas often emboldens me to make decisions that my normal, fairly pragmatic self would never make. First case in point: a few years ago, while drinking margaritas with Michael in a foreign country, we decidedthat it would be a great idea to get married. Almost five years later, I definitely count that as the best decision of my adult life, and almost every time I raise a salted rim to my lips, I make a silent toast to that cactus juice queen, tequila.

Source

The most recent occasion in which tequila played a central role in an inspired decision was this past week. Michael and I met some friends/colleagues (another couple) at a Mexican dive in Pasadena. The guy in the relationship is an avid outdoorsy person and is quite the runner; the female is also a runner, but she and I share very similar woes - ACL surgery and some issues post-surgery. Anyway, it's now a tradition for them to run the annual Mt. Wilson Trail Race which takes place over Memorial Day weekend. I originally wanted to run the Mt. Wilson race, but then I had my months of major foot/knee injury this past year, so the date came and went and the race filled up. After talking to them about the race on Tuesday night and listening to their encouraging "You should do! Yeah, yeah, yeah!", I woke up around 5:30 am on Wednesday morning and ran up a brutal hill. That was my condition - if I could force myself to get up and run more or less 2 miles up an ass-kicker of a hill, then I would show up Saturday morning for the race. I don't know if many people have seen the musical "Avenue Q", but this musical mentions these little figure called "The bad idea bears" that come to you when you've been drinking and they make you think that a horrible idea is a really great idea.

That was kind of how I felt yesterday morning when I arrived in Sierra Madre, CA, a lovely little hamlet in the foothills of the San Gabriel mountains. The Mt. Wilson race is apparently the second-oldest trail race in the country, started in 1908. I arrived without a number, but hoping that a cute new haircut and my sad eyes would convince the race director to give me a number. Or that one of the few 300 racers wouldn't show up and then I could run as he/she. No dice - the race director held firm and encouragingly said that I could sign up for next year's race in February.

Well, I had not dragged my ass out of bed at an early hour on a holiday weekend only to be turned away so easily. Rob said that a friend of his ran the race illegally last year, so I determined that I would jump in the race just a few blocks up. Which was exactly what I did - when I saw Hilary, I started to run behind her. After running around a bend, we suddenly transitioned from a street to a road and then trail. This was my first trail run experience, and I had no idea what to expect, although I knew that it would be an "experience". Hilary even called it 'terrifying', yet here I was, running it not even for a time or photos but just for fun. As the trail lost NO time in ascending swiftly, I decided that I was certifiably CRAZY. Somehow, a 2,000 foot climb in 4.3 miles seemed like an impossible task, but turning around was equally daunting because we were running single-file. At times, the trail widened and other times it almost seemed too narrow for one person, and the thought of a misstep and a fall did make me shudder on several occasions. Meanwhile, the climb up, up, up was fairly relentless, but once I passed the 2.3 mile marker, I thought that I could probably make it the rest of the way. It was a joyful moment when I reached the turn-around and the boy scout troop (no idea what number) cheered me on and told me "Run around the pole! Run around the pole!". I happily ran around the pole and then headed down, down, down.

While the ascent was often broken up with periods of walking on my part, the run was terrifyingly fast as the mountain seemed to pull people down at a lightening fast pace. I felt that I was racing along, but it seemed that all the people whom I had passed on the way up just flew by on the descent. I was more than happy to let them pass at that point. Again, the idea of falling and flying off the mountain held little appeal to me!

It was a great run down though, and it felt strange when my feet transitioned from trail to pavement. I ran most of the way towards the finish line, and when I was two blocks out or so, I ducked off the street and hopped on the sidewalk, slowing my pace down to a walk. If I had officially run the race, I would have finished in about 1.41 or so, which seems slow for an 8.6 mile run, but then when I throw in the 2,000 feet up, that sounds like a much better time! As usual, when I was finished, I felt so elated! It was also great because I did know 4 other people running, so I enjoyed cheering for the 2 people I knew who came in after me, and also clapping and shouting for other individuals who were finishing. I rarely hang out at races as a spectator, but I do know how it lifts the spirit to have people, even if they are strangers, cheering you on.

I would definitely call the Mt. Wilson Trail Race an "experience". Like Hilary said, there are moments that are terrifying, especially when the racers in the front start to come down and what is a trail for 1 person suddenly becomes a two-way thorough-fare. My body feels pretty wrecked today - sore in placed that I would have never expected, like my neck and shoulders - but I have no regrets about it and would love to run it legitimately next year!

Finally, no photos of me, but here is a placard of the trail that is posted up in downtown Sierra Madre:

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Finally, that was a crazy 'first' for me - not only was it my first time on the Mt. Wilson trail, but this also counts as my first trail race, and I might officially be hooked!