San Diego 100

San Diego 100 Course in Cleveland National Forest

The day finally came. After 6 months of running and racing for this solitary event it was time to put it to the test.  Arriving at Al Bahr Shrine Campground in the Cleveland National Forest, with support crew Megan and her friend Mary, we found TheOnion at one of the campsites where we soon pitched tents and organized items (e.g. gels, food, water, drop bags) for race day.  After checking in, which included getting race goodies, a mandatory weigh-in and race briefing, by director Scott Mills, we sat outside in pleasant afternoon weather eating dinner while Megan and Mary played a game of horseshoes.

Elevation Profile 

The next morning I woke up at 5am to a chilly 39 degree morning with wind chill and picked up my race bib number and anxiously nibbled on half a muffin.  The past week I had been feeling anxious. Every hour of that week had been scrutinized: Was I drinking enough, was I on my feet too much, what and how much was I eating, etc.  Now that anxiety was slowly transforming to excitement mainly because I did everything I could feasibly do consistently while attending a full-time grad program to give myself the best chance at completing the run, which was the ultimate goal.
The race soon started with the first aid station 7.4 miles away.  It was a pretty beginning with a stroll through Laguna Meadows, but the thing that stands out in this section was that I was about 10 minutes faster than my original planned time by the time I got to the aid station with my legs not feeling as fresh and springy as they were for the Bishop 50 a few weeks prior. My perceived exertion was higher than normal for the type of terrain I was running through. You can do everything you can to end up feeling good on race day, and I've had those fortunate experiences in the past, but today was not it. However,  I was hoping a solid training base would offset that.
To give you a general idea of the course it was nearly all single track with technical terrain (just ask the runner who ate it in the first few miles), 18000+ feet of elevation gain and loss, highs of 85 and lows of around 32 with cold winds kicking up to 30-40mph, and nearly all exposed.

Race morning with Megan

The next 16 miles saw a return to the pace I originally wanted to run at and with rocky uneven terrain creating a difficult environment for rhythmical running.  For the past several miles I had a bothersome left hip flexor and knee which was baffling to me since I had zero issues with it the past several months and I couldn't think of any legitimate reason on why of all days it wants to show up now.  It didn't really slow me down but it was another thing I had to monitor. From my understanding and experience the longer the race distance the more small problems balloon into large ones so I was desperately hoping it would disappear.  I arrived at Penny Pines aid station a little low on energy and had Megan put some menthol cream on my left knee and hip flexor in hopes of distracting the nagging issues there.  The next 20.5 mile loop plunged into Noble Canyon on very technical downhill terrain where the cool breeze immediately ceased and stale heat took over.  I started to hit a small wall in between miles 31-36 where a dusty, hot, and horse-fly infested trail slowed me down.

After dunking my hat in a flowing cool creek I started a hot and difficult 8 mile climb out of the canyon where 20 horseflies decided to set-up camp near my head and shoulders where continual biting through my shirt produced some welts all the way until the mile 44.1 aid station.  Megan and Mary were waiting for me with a chair and some food but I was soon off on a gorgeous section of the PCT where you contoured around some mountains overlooking a huge valley in Anza-Borrego Desert.  I started to employ a 1 min walk/run strategy hoping to milk whatever I had left in energy.  The near halfway point at 51.3 mile aid station, Sunrise 1, saw me enter in at 10 hours 46 minutes.  This was a good time but I was already feeling low on energy. I attempted to eat, nearly not enough as I should have in retrospect, but I continued on. I caught up to TheOnion who was about 15 minutes ahead of me and got to Stonewall Mine, mile 58.9, where Megan would become our pacer.  At this point it was about plugging along as I didn't have the energy to keep a running pace.

Rolling into Penny Pines 1 (Mile 23.6)

Megan was chipper, eager to lead us through the night portion. We brought headlamps and headed out into the sunset.  Half a mile into the leg Megan rolled her left ankle where a baseball sized pocket of inflammation immediately presented itself. This was fairly devastating and painful for Megan and myself but she put her pain aside and led us without question to the near top of Little Stonewall and Stonewall peaks. I knew she was in severe pain but she never gave up and didn't complain once.  I was starting to come unravelled at this point. The climbing and startlingly cold night had started to put me in a lower energy setting.  Nearing Paso Picacho aid station, mile 64.2, TheOnion's body decided it didn't like what was sitting in the stomach so it prompted several (count: seven) upchucks, mainly water.  We finally arrived at the aid station freezing cold, dehydrated, pale, and looking like we just went 4 rounds with Mike Tyson. We huddled next to a propane heater trying to warm up and putting on the extra clothes from our drop bags.  An aid station volunteer soon realized that more clothing was necessary proceeded to offer his Mountain Hardware softshell, which I'm sure is over $100.  Even in my increasingly fatigued and cold state I was taken aback.  I was amazed at the lack of hesitation of offering a complete stranger his jacket. It was not the last time in this event where an act of kindness presented itself.  We soon headed out, stomach's anew with chicken noodle soup, more clothing, and a sense of mild rejuvenation.  We headed out into a continual 8 mile climb back to Sunrise aid station, mile 80.  The brisk hiking pace soon devolved into a slower walk as Megan stayed with me and TheOnion spurted ahead.  We would soon see him sitting on a log, head in lap, poorly attempting to not give way to his bodies strong desire to sleep.  With encouragement from Megan he would get up and the process would repeat all over again several times.  However, my moment of truth soon came: I hit a wall. Not some wall in a typical person's marathon where they slightly slow down. This was a wall I could not break through.  I stopped the hike, hunched over head in between knees, and started to fade quickly.  At first, Megan thought I was just tired and needed a moment's rest, although she would soon come to understand that this was not a low point of short duration.  TheOnion got ahead of us again but my body and mind did not, could not, move forward.  My eyes started to close and I desperately just wanted to lay down on the headlamp-illuminated trail even though 30mph winds and a 30 degree night surrounded us.  She kept urging me to get up and walk with her but I could only respond in weak grunts.

Sunrise 1 Aid Station (Mile 51.3)

By now Megan was holding on to me trying to keep me from stumbling over and talking to me to keep me conscious. She was starting to get frightened on why I had suddenly started to badly fade and soon tears appeared.  My gait had become on-par with a drunk person on the verge of passing out and I could barely keep one foot in front of the other whilst being a seemingly infinite miles from the aid station; with no other options we could only stumble forward in the cold starry night. Those couple of hours felt like an eternity and we soon crested a hill revealing a well lit aid station.  Some runners that had passed us reported my number to the aid staff to alert them about my condition. We found TheOnion plopped on a camping chair next to a propane heater huddled in a large blanket, the look of fatigue clearly evident. He had been resting and waiting, with Gazelle, who was going to pace him for the final 20 miles.  Anna, an aid station volunteer, sat me in a chair and threw a blanket over me. I immediately tried to sleep but I really needed to lay down. After slowly answering some of her questions she decided that I really did need to lay down.  I was placed on the floor with a blanket and immediately wanted to sleep for at least 30 minutes. "Nope, only 10!" was Anna's response. I begged and pleaded for 5 more minutes and she soon relented.  At first I didn't understand why she would only let me sleep that long, but she had a feeling (and she was right) that if I slept longer without moving that I would call it quits.  That was certainly my most trying moment of whether to continue or not.  I had traveled 80 miles so far and had only a mere 20 remaining; but to me that 20 felt very far away.  Anna soon disturbed my sleep and I begrudgingly opened an eye big enough for me to slurp some chicken noodle soup.  As a tried to lay back down an "Oh no you don't!" came out of Anna's mouth.  Both her and Megan wanted me to start walking. Like hell I was!  After deciding that there was no way I was going to live with myself if I didn't finish this and after traveling 80 miles, what was 20 more?
I soon staggered up, immediately feeling a little better, and Megan and Mary got all the extra clothing we had to wear. I was soon bundled with 6 layers on top and 3 layers on the bottom; finally, warmth! To cheers from an amazing aid station I soon walked those few steps forward to continue the race with Megan in front. I had spent 1 hour there recovering. With the first sign of light appearing on the horizon, I thought back to what I'd been hearing from multiple runners: that now matter how awful the night portion, and it was, there was going to be a newfound sense of rejuvenation as soon as you see light.  So with that first light, the memories of that difficult night portion faded, but I didn't get a strong desire to push the pace. What also happened was that vicious wind was blocked by the mountains we were hugging and the 5+ layers we had on were now a burden.  We stripped down and carried all the extra weight as we made our way back to Pioneer Mail 2 aid station. With 2 legs and 13 miles left, Megan's last contribution was to pace me on the next 4 miles to Penny Pines 2, with me finishing the last 9 solo.  The next 4 miles were definitely at a stronger hiking pace and we reached penny pines in an hour or so.

Penny Pines 2 Aid Station (Mile 91.5)

I rested up for a bit, bid farewell to my wonderful pacer, who was icing her puffy ankle.  In the previous leg I had planned to run the final 9 miles as hard as I could no matter how I was feeling.  I started to run immediately and was actually feeling pretty good, a marked difference from a few hours ago.  There was still one big climb involved but I was on a mission and was focused on finishing these last miles with some quality.  The people that had passed me in the past several miles were all coming back. The deep ache in the balls of my feet didn't stop me from blazing the rocky downhills and finishing strong.  I zoomed by the 96.4 mile aid station without grabbing anything and who would knowing they were only 3.6 miles away.  I ran hard and could feel the finish line in my pores as adrenaline started to really kick into gear.  I was moving faster and faster, zooming by runner's here and there, like I just started a 5k race.  I wondered why I couldn't muster this energy before but the constant mental battle during a race of this magnitude is a difficult one to win.  I soon reached the "One mile to go" sign and now I was in full swing.  I passed by my campsite and a surprised Megan, who wasn't expecting me for another hour.  The smattering of claps and cheers from the spectators brought a smile to my face.  Soon enough, the final 100 meters was a straightaway to the finish. I pumped my arms and a wide grin crested my pale and fatigued visage as people around cheered.  I crossed the line in 27 hours 54 minutes and 5 seconds, every second accounted for and used. I shook hands with the tireless race director, Scott Mills, thanked him for a wonderful event and was given the much-heralded item in 100 mile races: the belt buckle.  I sat down on a chair and just wanted some time to realize what just happened.  One step over that finish line was the cumulative effort of the past half year.  I had done it.
As I sit here in the comforts of my home and recovered 1 week I've had more time to reflect on the race itself.  First, I want to credit half of the race to Megan, my courageous and loving cornerstone.  Were it not for her I honestly don't know how I would have made it to the next aid station in my long moments of complete vulnerability.  She held me up, figuratively and literally, through bone-chilling cold and a seemingly never-ending night.  33 miles in total on a sprained ankle that occurred .5 miles in.  She had also been my rock throughout these past 6 months of training.  Someone I could talk to and share my innermost feelings and fears.  If my love for her couldn't get stronger it was now cemented. Oh, and did I mention she was also battling an upper respiratory infection?
Mary was everything a runner would want in a crew member: willing to put up with the crappiest of situations with hilarious jokes, smiles, and punctuality.  She made the race a lot easier on both myself and TheOnion.  She was at each aid station providing us with whatever we needed without complaint. I owe her a lot.

Finish 27:54.05

This was my first 100 and after a first 50 miles in 10:46 and second 50 in 17:08 there were some lessons to be learned.  Preparation: I think I did all I could do considering school and work circumstances to put myself in the best position to successfully finish the race, which only had a 67% finish rate.  However, in retrospect having a hard 50 mile race just 3 weeks before the 100 was not the best thing.  Next time I will try to space it out 4-5 weeks, but that comes with it's own difficulties, mostly due to the lack of local 50 mile races.  Nutrition:  In my last 50 mile race I consumed mostly gels and water at regular intervals and it worked out really well.  However, 100 miles is a different beast entirely and I wasn't prepared.  Gels only is not going to cut it. Real food is needed and should be consumed at regular intervals.  Being out there for 20+ hours sustenance is needed to maintain any semblance of a decent pace.  I learned my lesson and will be taking it a lot more seriously next time.  Next time? At first reaction after the race there was no way I was going to enter another one. I questioned the lack of sleep and core philosophies of whether this is something I want to continue doing (100 milers that is).  Was it worth the time and effort?  I was very happy I was able to finish it but was I enjoying it? It seemed on the verge of ridiculous at times and frankly, as I predicted, it took me to lows I've never experienced in a trail run.  With that being said there is something in me that knows that I can perform better.  It was my first try and it was a rite of passage.  Time became irrelevant. It was about truly experiencing the event highs and lows and paying my dues.  There is a reason only 67% of the starting line field actually finished.  I was able to get through those lowest of low points and come out of it with a new found experience. I will be very picky with my spots but I don't think this will be my last. The 100 is a different run. It's not so much about VO2 or speed but simply about enduring through the lowest points and grinding it out.  It's about finding your formula to success no matter who's around you.  It's about the symbiosis of you, a natural being, and the natural surrounding world. It's about making the most out of your life.

Crew of the Year

Start line (TheOnion and me)

Rolling into Red Tail Roost (mile 13.8)

Crew (1/2) and Pacer

Sunrise 1 (Mile 51.3)

Penny Pines 2 Mile 91

Megan, me, TheOnion, Gazelle post-race

Post race=fatigued but happy

The coveted belt buckle

Bishop 50 Mile Ultramarathon: Final Prep Race

Photo courtesy of Karen Stubkjaer

The final prep race for the San Diego 100 (in 3 weeks) was run yesterday outside Bishop in the foothills of the snow-choked mountains of the Sierra Nevada.  It was my second 50 miler and certainly the harder when you factor in elevation gain, altitude, and terrain.  Megan was joining me on the trip up while running her own 20 mile race, which she won (3rd overall) in a time of 2:53, 1 minute off the course record for women.
We camped the night before at the start and finish located at Millpond Recreation area which turned out to be a great car-camping spot with a strong-flowing stream right in the middle of it and the awesome peaks of the Sierra's looming close by.
We were joined by TheOnion, a fellow hiker and ultrarunner friend, who will also be running San Diego 100. He was running in the 100km (~62 miles) and this is coming off the PCT 50miler the previous Saturday. Tough dude.
There was a free dinner in the town of Bishop at the Whiskey Creek Restaurant that included delicious veggie lasagna, pasta, garlic bread, salad, and mouth-watering carrot cake; where TheOnion proceeded to  devour the final few bites of the cake before declaring, non-remorsefully, that veganism "has exceptions!"  The back patio was filled with chatting and hungry runners while the race director, Marie Boyd, talked about the course, the snow, and aid station situations.
The run started at 6am and I barely got to the starting line 30 seconds beforehand an unorganized mess; for whatever reason I assumed 6 meant 6ish. I was wrong.  I was still organizing things in my pack by the time we started and for the first hour I was still feeling the effects of the wolfed-down breakfast and lack of mental focus. On Thursday I created a little time and distance paper sheet that showed the mileage between aid stations and a very rough timeline of where I should stand at each one.  Of course it fell out of my pack pocket 30 minutes into the run and was never seen again.

Photo Courtesy of Andy Noise

TheOnion, Joe (a youngster we met and ran with the first 14 miles), and I were taking our sweet time the first several miles, just loping along at a very comfortable pace chatting about trail running and backpacking mostly.  When we reached Edison, 17.40 miles in, we started to go our own seperate ways. The next 3 miles would see about 1400ft of gain and the highest point on the course, 9400ft.  I had a simple strategy of hiking/running this steep and snowy climb at 1 minute intervals. The strategy paid off as I was able to pass at least 10 people without taxing myself. I had a fear that the altitude, seeing how I'm a sea-level baby, was going to be a major hurdle but it turned out to be a minor one surprisingly.  Maybe because of previous experiences and time spent at high altitude; I'm not exactly sure why. Because of the conditions, the race organizers decided to forego an aid station and place a hole puncher at the top where you would punch your bib number to verify you made it up to the top.  Since I folded my bib number several times and the fact that with windchill the hole puncher and my hands were completely numb it got stuck on my bib. I used all my strength to pry it off but suffered a fairly deep gash in my right index finger, a broken nail halfway down to the cuticle on my ring finger, and plenty of blood that didn't finally clot until 1 hour later.
The run so far had been reserved and I was happy where I was at. I told myself to conserve myself until I reached mile 37.5 where the final 12.5 miles was a well-graded decline.  With that said, I took the downhill portions of the course, up until that point, with great care: small strides and reduced speed. Typically in a 50km run I'll bomb the downhills but my legs are typically cooked for the uphill. By doing that I didn't gain much time but I also knew that I was saving for something in the end so when certain people I previously passed decide to run faster on the downhill I knew I had there number later on in the race.  I had a low point at around mile 26.5 to 30 where I was feeling a little out of it mentally and my legs were starting to feel it a little.  However, when I finally reached Bishop Lodge chowed on a handful of strawberries, took a gel, relieved myself, I started to feel a little better.  I saw TheOnion only 5-7 minutes behind me and started to the rolling ups and downs to "Intake2" Aid Station.  My legs were also starting to feel better as I made the climb back to Edison, mile 35.  There was one more climb until the final descent and I returned to my run/hike strategy.  When I finally splashed through McGee Creek and reached the aid station I knew that my conservation strategy was going to pay off. My legs felt as good as they can feel at mile 37.5 and I started to run with a little more gusto.  I started to pass a couple of people who were feeling the effects of a strong first half including a 3ft Garter Snake (I hope) sunbathing perpendicular to the trail which I didn't see until I was 6 inches away. Fortunately, I mustered a "Whoa!" as I lept over it. I started to pick up the speed as I reached the Buttermilk Road and Junction aid stations where another desert native, a rattlesnake, rattled at me from the adjacent fauna when I was 2 feet away from it. That got the juices flowing a little more and the last ~6 miles saw me in my longest and fastest stride of the day.  I was acutely aware about my right IT Band from mile 32 on because the only other 50 miler I did I injured it at mile 42 and I was incapacitated for the next 6 weeks. I attributed it to the lack of proper training with poor strength in my hips and in those last several miles I was very much hoping I was right.  I was feeling surprisingly good and so close to the finish that I started to run the last three miles at under 7min/mile.  At that point I knew I was going to cross the finish line uninjured and only a little worse for wear.  I sprinted under the line clocking in 9:25.30: I was very happy that I had made a successful run because it had been bearing down on me the last several weeks.  The training and race schedule program I stuck with seemed to be paying off and this was one very good sign it was working.  I consumed around 17 gels and more importantly, good 'ol plain water at regular intervals, which has been a major problem of mine in past races. I ended up carrying an extra bottle and 8 tablets of Nuun without ever needing them.  I got 7th overall and 2nd in my age group.  I got pretty emotional after the run as I hugged Megan because of the doubts that were constantly on the backburner: would I be able to complete it uninjured and successfully? Those questions have been answered and now it's time to rest up for the main running event of the year: San Diego 100.
PS: What's up with all the ipods on the run? These aren't noisy city roads, you're in a beautiful landscape. I don't get it.

Last .01 miles.

Finish: 9.25.31 (PR)

My favorite mountains

Post race dip 

Loving this (Photo courtesy of Mark Gaggia)

Photo Courtesy of Andy Noise

Photo Courtesy of Andy Noise

Photo Courtesy of Andy Noise

Very early stages: me and TheOnion (number on hat) (Photo courtest of Mark Gaggia)

Megan: 1st Female in the 20 mile run, 4th overall (Photo courtest of Mark Gaggia)

Morning of.

Annual Day Zero Pacific Crest Trail Kickoff (ADZPCTKO)

Tis the season for backpacking. More specifically, the Pacific Crest Trail, the long wilderness trail that spans 2665 miles from Mexico to Canada.  This past weekend was the annual kickoff, a 600 plus member send-off to all the current hikers making their journey North located at Lake Morena, mile 21 of the PCT.  It's an inspiring weekend where past hikers reminisce and future hikers dream of taking their first step on an amazing journey.

Leaving the PCT only 155 miles into it in 2009 left a bitter taste in my mouth.  However, I must say that I ended up having an awesome summer in the Alps, which ironically is where this summer's 450 mile backpacking trip is going to take place.

Megan and I had a great time at the kick-off where we reconnected with TheOnion, Ducky, Tomato, Meadow Ed, Nitro, Squatch, and Sky.  We ran the 21 miles from the border to Lake Morena saturday morning and the desert wildflower-filled trail (thanks to a huge water year) only deepened our secret inner desire to drop everything and hike north to Canada. Alas, patience reigned at that moment in time, but we have it inked (non-erasable) in for April 2013.  

Other than that, we let the weekend inspire us with all the different presenters, starry nights, wonderful lake, and awesome short films at night.  

Squatch:Courtesy of One Pan Wonder

A lovely evening on the Lake:Courtesy of One Pan Wonder

Sycamore Canyon 50K: Race Report and Photos

The buildup to the SD 100 continued with my last 50K of the season at Sycamore Canyon, Pt. Magu State Park. The Grand Canyon trek really didn't take anything out of me and I continued with my weekly training without a break.  The week before the run had me dealing with a cold while slightly increasing mileage to ~80 miles/week. It was fairly challenging, physically and motivationally speaking, but made it through that week and the next feeling a bit better. I was now looking forward to the beautiful run at La Jolla and Sycamore Canyons. I consider those trails to be the most beautiful in the Santa Monica Mountains as it hugs the west side of the mountains just off the Pacific Coast Highway.  You can get excellent views of the Channel Islands, the shoreline, and at times can only see mountains and royal blue ocean. That along with great running weather made for an excellent set-up to the run.  My goal for the 50K was to break 5 hrs and the 10,000-ft of ascent and descent was about 2000-ft less than my last 50K where I was timed in 5:00.13, so I was confident that it would happen.  Megan was running in the 30K event where I suspected she was going to perform very well.  I was feeling pretty good until mile 18, where I hit the 3rd aid station in 2:50.   I refilled my hydration bladder, grabbed a few gels, and headed out. I started to hit the proverbial "wall" on the next 1000-ft climb and my pace definitely dropped off as the 3rd place runner, squirted away on the climb, and I started to think that I wasn't going to be able to break 5 hrs if I continued to feel, bluntly speaking, like crap.  I made the next 2K climb and the ensuing descent with the same feeling, but I finally shook it off after about 600-ft on the final climb. During that climb I came up with the strategy of hiking until I climbed 20 vertical feet then running the next 80 until I reached each multiple of 100.  When I reached 500-ft I started to get a 2nd wind so I continued to run all the way to the finish.  My legs were shot but I felt I could keep up the turnover and as I sensed my approach to the finish I picked up the pace even more knowing that my goal was going to be reached. I crossed the line in 4:54.06, 4th overall, and happy with the run.  Megan finished her 30K run in 2:41: breaking the course record for women by 19 minutes, getting 1st in the female division and 4th overall.  What a running animal! 

This is my 4th event of the season and my 2nd to last one before the SD 100.  A post-run reflection had me happy with the way the training had been progressing and how everything was coming together.  It's taken a lot of dedication to be consistently running high-mileages for the past 4.5 months, with very little rest (3 days/month and nothing greater than 1 day post-race) while attending grad school full-time and working.  Not only do a lot of things have to be in sync in terms of schedule, upcoming races, health, and a whole host of other variables that I can't think of now, but the will power to continue has to remain high.  I only have about 6 weeks until the SD100 and I can say that I've been putting in the work and I hope the "cumulative fatigue" strategy pays off in June.

On a side-note, my R patellar tendon that had been irritated before the Grand Canyon trip, acted up again Sunday and I hope to be able to calm it as I continue the training. I attribute it mostly to strength deficits, which I have to 

 

admit has not been incorporated into my training since February. I am going to start because I believe that the contractile weakness exposed on the hard run Saturday couldn't handle the eccentric loading. When that happens it starts to transfer that load to the more vulnerable part of the muscle: the musculotendinous junction. Hopefully, strategies to deal with inflammation, adhesions, and strength/endurance deficits with quell it. It worked once before but I didn't see it through so now is not the time to let all the effort and work go to waste.  Next up is the Bishop 50 miler where altitude and probable heat will be a factor in this final prep race. 

 

Grand Canyon: Tanner TH to South Bass TH (~110 miles)

After my experience in the Grand Canyon last May, I knew I would be back the following spring to explore more of this fascinating, unfathomable creation.  Fast forward to January 2011 where I submitted my permits to traverse from the furthest east to the furthest west trailhead via the a few trails but mainly the Escalante Route and the East/West Tonto Trail.  Most of the route encompassed new territory for me and was not the kind of distance or areas the backcoutry office sees covered in a typical backpacking trip. The usual ones include hikes 5-10 miles per day to the more popular sites where a good trail leads to perennial creeks.  My foray demanded 25-28 mile days to more remote and wild areas of the Grand Canyon that required traveling through Native American lands, probable long waterless stretches (~30 miles), unmaintained and sometimes disappearing trails, and arranging transportation to/from the trailheads (or in my case, hitchhiking).  In order for the trip to have been successful one needed to have a fair amount of backpacking experience (off-trail too), the conditioning, and luck.  I say luck because of the hitchhiking to Tanner, from the usually inaccessible South Bass, and water conditions. Since I had to reserve my permit so early I would have no clue as to whether any of those things were going to work in my favor.
After job issues ruled out my original hiking partner, TheOnion, from coming and experienced Canyon backpacker, JustPaul, who called it "ambitious" and a "death march", my hiking buddy Eric decided to join me for the first couple of days before hiking out South Kaibab. Fortunately, he lives in Prescott, AZ just 2 hours south of the Grand Canyon so he was kind enough to let me stay over the night before and after the trip.  Living close to the Canyon, Eric has done all of the established trails and some former rim-to-river routes that don't exist on a map anymore.
Arriving at the blustery Grand Canyon Sunday morning, we parked our cars at the South Rim Village and soon proceeded to stick our thumbs out for a ride to the far east TH of Tanner.  After only about 30 minutes of waiting a couple from Holland picked us up and were more than happy to take us to Tanner: a good omen to start the trip.  A steep and very windy descent got us to the sediment filled Colorado River at Tanner Beach and we filled up 2L as this was the last reliable water source until Neville Rapids 11 miles later.  We now started to follow the easily distinguishable Escalante Route and after descending down Seventy-Five Mile Creek we ran into Tom Myers, author of The Grand Obsession and Over the Edge: Death in the Grand Canyon.  He was with a Canyoneers leaders group and he invited us down for dinner (and in Eric's case beers) even though we were about 1 mile short of our original rest stop.  We met the crew and ate delicious cornbread and some ground beef with veggies and enjoyed the starry filled night with Neville Rapids as background music.  The next day we had a long 28 mile day that got us on the ever-winding Tonto Trail. The Tonto sits on a platform that lies between the river and the rim. The terrain isn't especially difficult but you have to wind your way around enormous drainages that basically have you hike 3-4 miles around them to gain 1/2 mile horizontal distance.  We got to Lonetree Canyon at 730pm (14 hour day) and slept under another fantastic starry night. The 3rd day Eric hiked out South Kaibab at the Tip-Off (Junction of Tonto/South Kaibab Trail).  After waiting for him for 10 minutes to arrive at the Tip-Off I decided I had to go because of the long day ahead.  I scribbled "Bye Eric" in the dirt with my trekking pole and when I was done a NPS off-duty ranger passing by starts lecturing me that drawing lines in the dirt is destroying the natural landscape and ruining the natural experience for the day hikers coming from the rim. All the while she was reciting the NPS Ranger Textbook there is a huge NPS-made bathroom right in the middle of the junction. I found it humorous that she failed to see the irony and hypocrisy of her thoughtless rhetoric. I ended up waiting for Eric after all and took whatever spare food he had. I continued the well maintained trail to Hermit Creek in great time (25 miles by 430pm) and relaxed the day away, because I knew the next day would be my most challenging.  I was entering what people call the "Gems" as every canyon until South Bass is named after a gem: Turquoise, Ruby, Serpentine, Sapphire etc.  The West Tonto Trail is unmaintained from Boucher Creek to South Bass and was evident as I was losing the trail often and had to backtrack a couple of times, especially around the canyons; having to hike 27 miles that day plus trying to route-find in afternoon rain was not ideal and I was a little nervous at times.  Boucher Creek, 6 miles from Hermit, got me mixed up as well.  The trail from there becomes cairned and I ended up following the creek down to the Colorado River on accident before running into a group of 4 guys who knew this area and re-directed me 1/4 mile south to find the hidden cairns. Thanks to this early morning mishap I barely stopped all day afraid of not making the mileage and getting to Ruby Creek.  The rain started at 1pm and I got to Ruby Creek at 530 pm. Since my tent needs to be staked in and doubting there was soft ground I found a ledge at Ruby Creek jutting out 2 feet over providing barely enough room for me to squeeze in. I stayed there until 5am the next morning where I hoped to find a ride out of South Bass.  After not seeing anyone all morning I was climbing out of Bass Canyon hoping that the faint footprints I saw led to anyone with a vehicle at the trailhead. I was about halfway up the canyon when I stumble upon a group of six people! It turned out to be a very interesting group. One was FredG, an older man who backpacked the CDT, PCT, and was heading out later this month to complete his Triple Crown with an AT thru-hike.  His daughter, Peggy, ran the Badwater Ultramarathon two years ago, her boyfriend Mike Ehredt who ran across the US last year in recognition of the US soldiers sacrifice (ProjectAmericaRun), and several of their friends. As soon as I saw them I blurted "Are you guys headed to South Bass?!" Yes, they replied. "Would it be too presumptuous of me to ask for a ride back to the South Rim?!" FregG laughed "Yes, it would, but we'll give you a lift! We have two cars." All my worries about getting back faded.  We chatted for a bit on the climb but I passed them and it gave me some time to reflect on the trip when I got to the top.  When I did get to the trailhead I looked around and saw ONLY two cars. There was no one else in the vicinity and with the forecasted storm the next two days the roads would have been impassable thus rendering me in a less than ideal situation with one liter of water and no food. Something more than luck was at play here.  The whole trip turned out to be what I had hoped it would be: wonderful and challenging. As I look back and think about the length of time for the Grand Canyon to evolve into what it is, my evolution as a human being is similar.  Each adventure is a brushstroke on the ever-changing canvas that is each of us.
I'm now looking forward to the next backpacking adventure: a 450 mile traverse of the French Alps with Megan in July and August. Click here to check out the photos!

The Magical LA Marathon Run (Race Report)

I remember when I completed the LA Marathon last year after a virus (mononucleosis) knocked me out for most of January and February.  I was training specifically for the race in the hopes of qualifying for the most prestigious of road marathons: The Boston Marathon. For my age and gender my qualifying time is 3:10 roughly equating to 7:15 per mile average.  My training had been going well but one weekend I started to get headaches that progressed to full-blown fevers greater than 101 F by Sunday night; and it didn't abate until 21 consecutive nights had passed.  That included two emergency room visits, being bed-ridden, missing classes, and leaving the MD's baffled on why I experienced these bizarre and frankly severe symptoms.  With only 4 weeks until the already-paid-for LA Marathon I didn't believe I had a shot of participating in it; that was because my first run five weeks since the first fever included stitches on both sides, the inability to keep an upright posture, and general fatigue. Did I mention it was only 3 miles? How was I able to run 26.2 then? Well, I ran several more times thereafter including a "long" run of 15 miles and decided that I didn't want to waste the $150. So I ran it. It was a struggle but managed a 3:45 (8:36/mile pace) in perfect running conditions and I have to say I was very proud of it, given the circumstances, but was well short of the Boston marker. This year has been the antithesis of what happened last year.
My emphasis and frankly preference (for a multitude of reasons addressed in one of my first posts) is trail running and the major running goal this year is the San Diego 100 mile endurance race in June in the Laguna Mountains.  Everything since last December (post IT Band injury) had been geared to that.  This year has consisted of solid consistent training (~75 miles/week mostly on trails), two 50km (31.5 miles) trail races in personal record time, and no major setbacks (knock on wood). I was deciding on my next run after the Malibu Creek 50km run just 2 weeks ago and I decided to enter LA the last moment, literally. I had no expectations just because road and trail are very different and thinking about the running time was not a priority. It was a run that allowed me to get another long run in and gave me a little break from trails. This was also my 9th marathon or ultramarathon and since it involved zero driving and basically running home I gave it a go.

The race-day forecast called for heavy rains and it didn't disappoint. I arrived at Dodger Stadium (starting point) at 430am and to not waste time I sat in the bleachers and studied my for my orthopedic exam and  practical for the following morning (Yes, I brought my notes). The notes were put away at 7am and after handing off my drop-bag I squeezed and prodded my way to the 11 min/mile spot. Boy, there were a ton of people and due to my late registration I couldn't get in the under-4:00 hour marathon time corral.  As was expected I had to fight through the multitude of walkers, weirdos (a guy running with tray holding a fake wine glass, another with a fake hand glued on his head), slower runners, and bathroom lines that spilled into the streets for the first 3 miles and even though I wasn't necessarily going for the 3:10 time I wanted to see how long I could last. My biggest concern was not my lung capacity but my leg turnover. I was used to long steep climbs on trails where a small stride and high cadence doesn't produce fast minute/mile times.  As mentioned, the first  3 miles consisted of weaving around the hordes, getting stopped cold, and being reduced to a jog. Immediately, this set me back 3 minutes off the 3:10 pace and making up that time was going to be near impossible.  I finally had some breathing room and settled into a solid stride with the cold rain and wind coming down hard.  No amount of clothing was going to keep me dry so I opted for a cotton shirt, short shorts, beanie, and thin gloves.  The next several miles, up until mile 13, saw me chipping away at those 3 minutes and I was able to reduce it to 1 minute 45 seconds.  However, the harder miles were coming up and I doubted if I would be able to sustain that type of pace.  Up until this time I had been feeling great. The rain was wonderful, contrary to many reports, and I absolutely relished in it.  I felt I was in a zone in which I had boundless energy and I even saw a sign on a small theatre in Hollywood reading "Run Nano Run." I'm not sure who it was for but I felt it wasn't just merely a coincidence: This was my race and I had to capitalize on the moment.

The next and final 13.2 miles saw a pace that I honestly didn't think I would be able to produce so well and without taking a deep breath: 6:54 pace.  I was waiting to hit the wall or bonk but it never came and I felt I was getting stronger an stronger during the later miles. I was flying by people (passing 212 in the last 4.5 miles) and I have to say that I don't think one person passed me the entire race (mainly because I was so far back).  During the final 3 miles I witnessed the carnage of what the last 23 miles had done to people. Some guy pulled a hamstring right in front of me, another fell, another looked like he was running drunk, and some were just debilitated from there previous efforts.  I was feeling the best I have ever felt in a run and didn't want to crack a wide grin just yet; not until I was in the final .2 miles.  Who knows what could have happened between where I was and the finish? But for whatever reason I kept running faster.  I finally hit mile 26 and cracked a wide smile knowing that I was going to be well under 3:10 and still feeling great. A came under the banner in 3:07.17 (7:08 mile pace) and started to weep. It felt as if I had won the race and it surprised me on how emotional I was to attain that goal.  A totally unexpected run and the only word that comes to mind is magical.  I had done no track work, no speed work; just trails, albeit challenging, and some road runs at an easy 830-9min/mile pace.  I'm proud of the way my body held up, the course, the training consistency, and the run.  The rain was glorious and my thin soled spikeless cross-country racing shoes are heaven. There is something to be said about having flat, (no difference in heel to forefoot) light shoes.  I didn't experience any foot problems and I truly believe that it changes the action of my stride enough to use the passive elements (elastic energy of arch and achilles) to my advantage. I felt strong. Here are my official results.  The time placed me 227th out of 19,781 participants, averaging 8.4mph, and having negative splits, something I thought I couldn't do. Here are my personal recorded splits:

Mile: 1 8:37, 2/3 7:46 (avg), 4/5/6 7:34 (avg), 7 7:02, 8 7:05, 9 7:07, 10 6:56, 11/12 6:58 (avg), 13 6:57, 14 6:53, 15 6:26, 16 6:26, 17/18 7:24 (avg, but I think there was a mile marker misplacement on the previous miles), 19 6:48, 20 6:59, 21 7:14, 22 7:00, 23 6:55, 24 6:47, 25 6:45, 26 6:48 = 3:07.17

Finish! I started ~13 minutes after the official clock started hence the 3:20.41 time not the 3:07.17.

On a sidenote, I really focused on maintaing the neural activation of my gluteal muscles and abdominals throughout the run and I believe that allowed an injury-free and efficient run. I felt powerful and happy throughout. The runner's high is still with me.

Next up is the Sycamore Canyon 50km race April 23, but first a 130 mile  east to west trek in the vast and wonderful Grand Canyon. Onward to the San Diego 100.

Race Report: PCTR Malibu Creek 50km

Santa Monica Bay from Malibu Creek State Park

The buildup to the San Diego 100 mile endurance run continues with the Pacific Coast Trail Runs Malibu Creek 50km (31.5 mile):
After the Calico Ghost Town 50km I signed up for this race 6 weeks later which was a perfect amount of time to get some more solid foundation and increase my training mileage. I have been running 60-70 miles per week evenly split between road and trail. Now that this race is complete I'm going to increase the mileage to 100 miles/week in order to make sure I have a solid foundation before June. The key is to  do the runs consistently at a sub-normal pace while staying injury free. We'll see how that goes.  It's been OK in terms of time management between PT school, studying, and work to get those 60-70 in, but 100 is going to be tough. However, I do have daylight savings on my side starting next week so that will definitely help.   As far as the race goes, beside the timing, this took place at my home course so I figured why not? The course has 12,000ft of elevation change (~6K up, ~6K down) and I consider it fairly challenging.

1 Minute before the finish. Checking watch. Sub 5? Turns out no.

The first quarter of the race had me a little off in terms of finding a rhythm because of the unusual feeling of having runners around me (I train solo).  Soon enough I found a rhythm and completed the first loop in ~2:23 and I was feeling pretty good.  There are a couple of new things I tried for this race that I haven't done before: 1) Wearing a Nathan 2L Bladder Pack vs. Bottles 2) Consuming gels and Nuun during the run. I purposely only consume water during training because I want my body to adapt to having an absence of carbohydrates and electrolytes so when race time comes it's to my advantage to eat the gels. As a consequence the training runs can sometimes feel tiring and slow.  I was anxious to see how the 2nd loop was going to go considering my longest training run was one loop 2x week (15.75 miles) but I trusted my training and to a certain extent my diet. The mid-thigh Malibu Creek crossing proved to be a leg re-fresher and I ran most of the steep portions of the trail. What I found baffling and somewhat annoying was that Maggie Beach, the 50km 1st place woman's winner, passed me power hiking while I was keeping to running the race.  We passed each other a few times all the way until a minute before the finish line.  I started to feel a little nauseous 20 minutes before the finish but I was able to finish a strong (for me) 5:00.13, revenging a DNF 2 years ago because of an injury and PRing the course by 21 minutes. That placed me 5th overall and 2nd in my age group (20-29).  I don't know where I could have found the extra 14 seconds to break 5 hours; maybe those 2 minutes at the half-way aid station. Who knows.
I must say that this was my best race to date.  I kept with a consistent training schedule, didn't get hurt, and ran a solid race.  Typically after a race like my legs feel tired but I must say that as of now they feel normal. We'll see in the next couple days though.  The hydration pack turned out to be a very good tool; no more fumbling for gels while having a bottle in hand. Even though the time is about 8 minutes off last month's PR this had 4,000ft more elevation change so I know that things are certainly on the up and up.
I'm not entirely sure when my next race will be since I have a 130 mile Grand Canyon trek in a month, but I think I'm going to run the Rim2Rim2Rim the day after the trip; a 41 mile classic trail run from the Grand Canyon South Rim to North Rim and back.  Past that I will probably enter the Bishop High Sierra 100km on May 21, my last race before the 100.
On another note, Megan who had been pretty much swimming until 2 weeks ago since her January race only because of a little back issue placed 3rd in the 25km with a time of 2:16. Pretty awesome considering she didn't run a trail in 5 weeks.
We also bought our plane tickets to Europe for our Grand Traverse of the Alps trek in July/August. That was very exciting for us and we are very much looking forward to it. More details on the trip when the time approaches.

Photo Courtesy of Andy Noise