Musings

I had been typing up my thoughts on the climb up Aconcagua as soon as I got back in mid-February.  Thanks to this occasional terrible website, I thought it was saved because it said "saved" when I clicked to save it.  Sure enough a day or two later when I went back to complete it, hours of work had been lost.  Poof.  Gone.  Nothing to show.  There was nothing I could do except stare at the screen.  I couldn't even rage.  It was never finished and I don't think it will ever be.  I take solace in the fact that I journal-ed everyday and there is at least that in writing.  My intention was to publish the journal and use it as the trip report but thought differently after a while.  If I make it to old age, I'll publish all my journal entries in book format.  Otherwise, maybe if someone is really bored they can do it after I'm dead.  Hopefully there will be cool stories people will find interesting. Speaking of which, when I opened my old letter box I found my filled moleskin journal dated back to 2007.  It was amusing reading entries from such an idealistic and questioning point of view.  A lot of things happened in those ten years from a 24 year old to a 34 year old.  I've evolved in that time, for the better hopefully, but who knows.  I'm a believer that we really don't know anything from a macro perspective and we probably will never know the meaning of life and the answers to those other philosophical questions.  I've stopped asking. My dear 24 year old self states:  "Is it selfish to live one's own life without much regard to traditional parent-offspring relationships? Are people forever trapped in that dilemma?"  Oh man, he's hit it on the head.  Fast forward 10 years later and I need an answer. Like now.  I won't get into much more but anyone with a brain and knows that I'm married can put two and two together. 

Late Season

I've been idle the past month, running and hiking around 50km per week and not traveling very far from home.  It's been a good respite letting my body and mind focus on different things.  This past weekend was my final weekend in that mode before the upcoming winter and I wanted a quiet and peaceful trip.  I drove up to the Southern Sierra hoping to reach the summit of Mt. Whitney via the Main Trail with a night camping at Trail Camp at 12K ft.  I've summit Whitney nine times but never have I camped on the way up the eastside so it was to be a different experience.
There was a death on the Mountaineers Route this past Tuesday and predictably I got the "you might not return" spiel from a ranger at the Eastern Sierra Visitor Center.  I started my 2-day backpack at 4pm at the desolate Whitney Portal.  I prefer the Mountaineers Route but not knowing the conditions as well as being alone I decided to stick to the easy and mindless trail.
After packing my (very) cold clothing in my pack I headed out on the main trail at 4pm and to a crisp 37 degrees.  There was hardly anyone out on the trail much to my delight and I hiked for 3.5 hours, 2.5 of which were in the dark.  The moon had not come up allowing the stars to show their brilliance on the hike up.  Unfortunately, thinking I was going to breathe some fresh mountain air on the way up, the air had a tinge of smokey smell to it much to my disappointment and at sundown could see the Owens Valley streaked with a thin layer of smoke.  I donned microspikes at 11K to navigate the hard snow and weaved my way up to Trail Camp which I saw 2 individuals camping for the night.  By this time the wind was constant with strong intermittent 60mph gusts.  I tried to find a protected spot but there was no hiding from the erratic winds.  It turns out my 3-season tent was not up for the challenge.  All night I tended to the tent, placing large rocks inside the corners of the tent while tying down the fly.  Even then the gusts would toy with the rocks and it made for a sleep deprived night.  I got up early, hid my tent and sleeping bag in some rocks and headed up.  Microspikes and all my (5) layers were adequate.  Strong easterly winds were piercing and although I don't know the exact temp my water froze in my bottle after a short time.  I would venture to guess it was single digits with wind chill.  My toes even in my more substantial Salomon X-Alp were getting painful and once I reached Trail Crest at 13600 ft the winds were even more ferocious.  It made me off balance as well and didn't make my feet any better.  After descending from Trail Crest to the west side of Whitney a short way, the gusts with debris stopped me cold a couple of times.  Knowing I had a 4.8 (2.4 to/from) miles of wind exposed trail to go before reaching the summit (and returning to the same spot) I didn't think I could have remotely enjoyed being blasted by the wind for the next 2-3 hours so I turned back.  The speed of the cloud cover moving over the Whitney Massif was alarming partway down so I figured it was a good decision, looking for any rationale.  Nonetheless, I enjoyed my quiet hike down back to the Portal.  I'll come back in the winter to attempt a summit bid via the MR route. 

(FYI, on the way back on Hwy 395 there was a massive smoke plume coming from the (way) southern Sierra near Olancha.)

Anyway here are some photos:

Smoke in the distance

Wind shaped clouds

Alpenglow

Didn't stay here much longer.

Final Sierra Weekend?

Another opportunity to head out to the Sierra for a few days before winter chill? Most definitely.  A big storm was coming off the Pacific and hitting the central and northern Range of Light but sparing the southern end.  Instead of snow there were 30-50mph winds all weekend without fail but with fairly clear skies.  That allowed a Langley summit, amazingly only my second time up the "easiest" Sierra 14er but boy that frigid wind was piercing.  A stunning view of the Whitney region greeted me at the top and I hunkered down away from the wind long enough to not get frozen and down a bag of chips.  Down "Old" Army Pass and back to Horseshoe for another windy night by the fire.  It turns out most of the Sierra got dumped on with the hope of good things to come.  If this was my last weekend out there until next year then I'm happy I came out.  I've come to the realization I didn't backpack one night this year (although car camped a fair amount) and that is somewhat disappointing.  That will change next year.   I would like to climb Whitney in the winter early 2017 but I need to educat myself more on traveling in avalanche terrain first.  I should take an AVI 1 course in Mammoth or Bishop this winter.  Anyway, here are a few photos from the weekend:

Never seen that before. Legit cairns?

Langley summit

Cottonwood Lake #5

Looking back at Army Pass

Cottonwood Lake #3

(Polar) Bear 100

Satisfied and not satisfied.  That’s how I feel about my race.  29:52 was not indicative of my fitness, the training I put in, and just the general time I spent in the mountains.  But that’s what I earned.  Although my game plan was to manage the weather with clothes changes when possible, I wasn’t prepared (clothing-wise) for the last snowstorm just before midnight with sub-freezing temperatures (#4 on the day) at mile 75.  It turned out to be a costly mistake.  Arriving at Cowley Aid downright frigid, ice blocks for feet, I hunkered down in a canvas tent with a propane heater the size of a small TV, after initially leaving and turning back to the aid after .1 miles.  That intended short stay to get warm and feel my feet again turned into six hours.  I’m still not sure how that happened.  I guess I didn’t think I would warm up or the potential for hypothermia was real and it wasn't worth the risk.
Yet other runners persevered through that weather and it made me question my mountain credentials.  Others gladly took a 4x4 ride out of there and dropped but that doesn’t make me feel any better.  I like to believe that with rain pants, dry shoes, and socks my stay would have been shorter.  As it was not a crew access point (this year) I simply couldn’t pack every drop bag with dry gear.  I just didn’t have enough to go around and plan for every situation.  But I’m making excuses.  As much as I don’t want it to define my race, it’s what I’ll associate it most with. 
After emerging from my cocoon at 6am I made a nice push the last 25 finishing it 5:52 allowing me to get under 30 hours.  I’m not sure how to categorize the race but I’m actually fairly happy with the race, when I was running. 
Besides the running I want to mention the beautiful and peaceful scenes during first snow where red-yellow autumn colors along with the evergreens created an amazing contrast to the the rapidly, but quietly, falling snow.  I secretly wished a photographer was out there to capture those moments.  It’s something I won’t forget. 
Or the non-stop rain or snow that started from the start and made it a race to remember.  Temperatures were low most of the race.
Or the yipping from the coyote farm (yes, those exist for whatever reason) in the early miles. 
Or the sticky mud that piled under my shoes and the muddy goop that was fun to splash in, especially coming down from Tony Grove Lake. 
Or the good conversations with new acquaintances, each on their own journey. 
Or the nutrition plan that finally worked where I didn’t have major lows of any sort (plan: eat more. duh). 
Or how good the running felt; probably the best I ever felt in a 100 miler. 
Or not being completely demoralized when I missed an out-n-back to an aid and mile 67 costing me 3+ miles. 

That’s probably why I love 100 milers.  You just never know what to expect, which makes it all the more exciting.  I’ve recovered so well that I think another 100 is on the horizon, but I’ll decide in a little while.  I’m definitely coming back to run The Bear again at some point, to experience the original point-to-point course (it was rerouted into a 50 mile out-n-back because of the weather).  Thanks to Marshall and my wife Megan for being out there pacing and crewing making sure I was dry, warm, and fed.  There aren't many photos but here are a few:

Frigid hands at mile 20: Leatham Hollow

Right Hand Fork, mile 37

A little over half way: Tony Grove (mile 53) Snowstorm #2

From Bear 100 FB page.  This is what the next morning was like.

Last few yards to the finish

Final Sierra Weekends

Weekends are now synonymous with leaving town.  It’s become natural to leave, as I just don’t want to be in LA Friday though Sunday if I can help it.  The more I leave on these weekends the more I want it to be permanent. 
Andy came along for the ride (not that he needed convincing) and we spent a nice weekend enjoying the final autumn days before Sierra Winter comes around.  I didn’t get to spend as much time as I would like in the Sierra this summer but other mountains called.  Time to make up for some of it.  As Andy was in taper mode (read: having nightmares) for his Big Backyard Ultra in Tennessee and I was still in recovery mode we planned to take the weekend slow.  We camped at Lake Sabrina Friday night and took in the palette of fall colors the aspen groves showed off.  The next morning we headed off on a mellow hike/run on the trails passing several lakes until basking in the warm rays of the sun at Hungry Packer Lake.  If only everyday could be like this.

Lake Sabrina

Andy running happy

Sierra Golden Trout

Hungry Packer Lake w/ Picture Peak

Winter is coming

After our 13.7 mile fun we headed to Schat’s Bakery for lunch and bread purchasing (they finally had the whole wheat bread in stock!).  On the way to Horseshoe Meadows to spend the final evening it was the perfect opportunity to visit the Manzanar Internment Camp, which is now a historical site.  I remember one of my classmates in high school reading Farewell to Manzanar and that name always stuck.  I’ve also passed it countless times with never a moment to spare to visit.  Today was not one of those days.  I encourage anyone to visit this important piece of American and Japanese history.
A nice and quiet night by the fire was spent at Horseshoe Meadows where the occasional coyote howls and sparkling cosmos highlighted the evening.

Horseshoe Meadow Rd & Whitney Portal Road Junction

Missing - Part I

It's been a long while since I posted anything.  Over a year in fact.  That seems to be the case with blogging and the like for some unknown reason with me.  However, I'm inspired to write again and to record my exploits with whomever is interested, even if it's just me.  It's hard to succinctly sum up what has happened in the last year without writing a few pages but I'll touch up on some of the more significant things (Part 1/2).
Shortly after AC100 last year, I spent several long weekends in the Sierra and climbed some peaks.  Namely, Mt. Tyndall (14er), Mt. Julius Caesar, and Red Slate Mountain.  Each one of those peaks offered new trails, x-country travel, and spectacular views.

Mt. Tyndall view from summit

View from Red Slate Mountain

Annotated view from Mt. Julius Caesar

 After the Sierra snows came I started rock climbing at an indoor gym close to my apartment in downtown, Stronghold Climbing.  I became mildly obsessed (as I seem to do with most things I get interested in) and started going 4 days/week, making friends, and venturing outdoors.  That soon got me interested in trad climbing and I took a 5-day course in March with Vertical Adventures that included learning about anchoring, learning to lead, and self-rescue.  It was invaluable and a great 5 days spent in Joshua Tree National Park.  I soon led my first single-pitch trad climbs in Boulder and Eldorado Canyon SP in Colorado, right before witnessing and being part of the rescue of a gruesome climbing accident.

Rappel down 3rd Flatiron, Boulder (photo: Joel Peach)

Climbing partner Jen Sanders, "The Cursing Southerner"

Trad lead after the accident in Eldo SP

Before I get too ahead of myself and dive into Spring, the winter entailed my training for my 5th L.A. Marathon.  The training was probably the hardest I had ever worked for a marathon with emphasis on tempo mile repeats but I got sick three times and with one being at the inopportune moment of Wednesday before the race.  Marathon training is very demanding and my immune system was clearly the victim.  My fever broke the night before the race but the writing was on the wall and I was sapped.  I eeked out a sub-3 thanks to chasing my training partner Marshall the last 3rd of the race.  We fittingly finished together in 2:58:30 but more could have been had there.  Another time hopefully.  During that training I summit Mt. Baldy six times with actual snow on top via the Baldy Bowl.  It was great.  Also prior to that attending the Marathon Olympic Trials in Downtown L.A. was amazing to witness.

Sunday Silence atop Mt. Baldy

Hurting and Happy

 After the marathon a couple road trips to Death Valley and the Grand Canyon happened as well as the climbing course in J-Tree (see above).

Wildflowers in Badwater

Ribbon Falls, Grand Canyon NP

I'll be back Sunday to finish up.

Angeles Crest 100: 2015

Hike the long climbs hard, run easy on the flats and downs. That was my strategy heading into my third Angeles Crest 100.  I knew I could hike hard and fast uphill all day, thanks to the time spent on my fourth John Muir Trail backpacking trip at the end of June.  Running and hiking in the San Juan's of Colorado for 9 days and pacing my friend, Chris Price, at Hardrock 100 didn’t hurt either.  Indeed, it helped establish my confidence heading into the 29th edition (my 3rd) of this historic local race.

After sleepwalking my way to a 29:45 (my slowest time) finish at the 2014 AC100, the race stomped whatever confidence was left to be able to run these races well.  I could come up with a million excuses but the fact was I’ve always experienced big lows that have taken forever to get out of.  My belief was that it was simply not taking and digesting enough calories, so I went back to my tried and true method of GU gels and salt pills.  Thanks to the book “Waterlogged” by Tim Noakes I had stopped taking salt for the past few one-hundred mile races and experienced lows I was barely able to recover from.  So I decided to go forget what I read and go back to what had worked in the past. Science schmience.

Race day arrived.  The past few days in Wrightwood were relaxing.  I was taking my time preparing for the race and enjoying the quiet moments.  I made sure to sleep well, eat well, and be mentally prepared over the last couple of weeks.  I was hoping it would pay off.  My goal had always been to be able to break 24 hours and this year was no different.  The only thing that was different was that I was coming into the race healthy, mentally and physically the best I’ve come into it, and WANTING to race.  

Wrightwood: The start (with an Uncle Hal photobomb!)

Wrightwood to Islip Saddle (miles 0-25):

The customary “Get out of here!” was yelled at 5am and we all started to make our way up through Wrightwood before hitting the Acorn Trail.  The very last house passed before the trail was Dom and Katie’s cabin.  For the last 3 weekends (and, coincidentally, where I am typing this up) and in previous months they have generously opened their doors and we’ve taken advantage of being able to jump out on the trails right from their doorstep.  

Grossman's Corner

I stuck with my strategy of hiking uphill comfortably hard and conserving the running legs for later.  I was moving well and putting distance on people who were running and hiking.  I got to the top of Acorn in :53.  I cruised the rest of the way to Inspiration Point letting the people who were keen on the downhill pass me and I arrived at the raucous aid station that is Inspiration in 1:53.  Quickly but calmly refilling my water at the aid station I walked to the far end and started my hike out to Vincent Gap.  I was really happy not to be in a line of runners anymore and I quickly settled into my own groove with some quiet time.  I arrived at Vincent Gap (mile 13) happy to see Dave Daley’s crew as they were helping me out until I met Marshall at Islip Saddle, mile 25.  I hiked the entire climb up Mt. Baden-Powell in 1:03-04, catching folks, and staying within myself.  After the customary photos by photographer Larry Gassan at the highest point on the course, I cruised all the way to Islip, again letting a couple runners go by me on the way down.  I usually run the downhills well so letting a couple people by was not easy.  I arrived at Islip to meet my cowboy-hat wearing crew in Marshall.  We exchanged a quick hug, got my necessaries and I was off.  I felt calm and good.  5:12

Up Mt. Baden-Powell
Photo: Paksit Photos

Islip Saddle to Chilao (miles 25-53):

I have always felt terrible arriving into Eagles Roost (mile 30) but this year was going to be different, I tried to convince myself.  I again hiked the climb up Mt. Williamson comfortably hard and cruised into Eagle’s Roost in :55, my fastest split ever.  The best part was that I was feeling really good.  I was very excited on the inside but I showed no external emotion when I arrived at the aid station.  This road section which I have loathed in the past was just fine.  I let a couple eager beavers by but I soon would regain position on the trails and the climbs through Cooper Canyon.  I felt great, the music and caffeine were working, and I hiked up to Cloudburst (mile 38) happy.  Feeling this good this far into the race was unchartered territory for me and as soon as I let myself think it was going to be a good day, I quickly thought about ultrarunning rules number 2 & 3.  You’ll have to ask legendary AC runner, Fenton Cross, for those golden nuggets.  The next section to Three Points has always been terrible to me and this time I did a decent job of getting there although I started to feel a little worked.  The next hot and exposed section to Chilao was the start of my downswing.  I arrived in Chilao faster than I ever have but I was starting to crack.  I plopped in a chair.  My first sit down of the day. 5:57

Chilao: Dave Daley in foreground with myself being tended to in background.
Photo: Dominic Grossman

Chilao to Chantry (miles 53-75):

I consider the next section to be the easiest “25” of the course.  After 6 minutes at the aid station, I picked up my first pacer, Marshall, and headed out.  I was slow.  Very slow.  I knew it was a calorie issue and I had a brief 2 min window where I felt like I was coming back but it was short-lived.  I arrived at Shortcut (mile 60) tired.  I spent 12 minutes there resting and trying to bounce back.  I rested my eyes and just sat.  I was starting to worry that all the good work I had done in the beginning was being wasted.  This is where I notoriously fell apart last year and I was wondering if it could happen again.  The long fireroad descent into Westfork is something to take advantage of.  The grade is perfect, the sun is starting to go down (although it’s still hot), and you’re starting to really drop in elevation.  It didn’t matter for me however, I was barely making it down.  The climb up Newcomb was also slow and laborious.  I started to feel sorry for myself and doubt about my ability to perform in 100s reared it’s head. “Marshall, I suck at 100’s.” “I’m sorry for being this slow.” “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”  I’ve started to learn more and more that when I get like this there’s usually only one reason: sugar.  I don’t have enough of it and it’s not getting to my brain.  Physically I felt great, apart from some left tib anterior tendinitis that was starting to bother me.  The trick though is to convince the mind to take fuel in while it’s screaming “Hell no! Get that crap away from me!”.  It’s a lesson I’ve learned the hard way.  I begrudgingly ate a PowerBar and somehow made it to Newcomb at the tail end of daylight.  I sat there for 11 minutes.  We finally got out and I gingerly made my down to Chantry.  I usually love running this section but I was still in a funk and was barely plodding 16 minute miles on the rutted out trail and the entire field seemed to be passing me by.  On the final ¾ mile climb up the pavement to Chantry I finally started to get some life back.  On the downside, my left shin was starting to concern me as it was quite painful with every foot movement.  

5:59

Chantry to Loma Alta Park (miles 75-101.5):

I was coherent.  That was a good start.  I was picking up Jimmy Dean Freeman, who I consider one of the best consistent closers on this course.  That’s why I asked for his services one day after finishing AC in 2014.  I gave Marshall a well-deserved hug and thanked him for staying so positive out there while I wasn’t at my best.  I left Chantry at 10:26pm and I started to doubt I could make it to the end in under 24.  I was definitely feeling better but was down on myself.  Jimmy laid out the plan and I’ll quote him:

“Mike, I think we can do this.  You need to run some of the inclines, hike the shit out of the steep stuff, and maintain a consistent pace on the downs.  We need to get a lot of calories in you, not waste any time at the aid stations, and focus on catching and passing people to help pull us forward.  I believe we need to average 19min/mile on the climbs and 11min/mile on the descents and 2-3 min or less at aid stations.”

It was set and I started to feel better as we kept moving.  The 2 mile section from Chantry to the Upper Winter climb, where I had done multiple repeats the prior year (contemplating dropping), was where I started to run with JDFs encouragement.  

Me: “My shin is really hurting and it’s really affecting my running.”  

JDF: ”I don’t care.  You can turn this into a negative thing or you can accept it and keep going.”  Although the pain was sharp and really wearing on me psychologically,  I knew it wasn’t more than tendinitis and it wasn’t going to kill me.  So I accepted the pain for what it was and started not caring although present at every moment.  “Food, two gulps of Coke, wash it down with water.” That became the nightly mantra. I tackled the steep climb with almost the same vigor as I had early in the race and maybe all the early conservative running started to pay off. I cruised down the Mt. Wilson Toll Road, really wanting to finally open up my stride, but sharp spasms from the tib anterior kept me in check and I kept the stride short but consistent.  I had passed 5 people on this section and truly started to believe that sub-24 could be mine if I ran like this until the end.  I suddenly became hyper-focused, pain became secondary, and there was no way I was going to waste this opportunity.  I was out of Idlehour Aid Station in 4 min and worked my way down into the vortex that is Idlehour Canyon.  The climb up to Sam Merrill was a strong hike intermixed with running.  I got to the aid just as a runner was leaving.  10 miles left.  My watch had died at the last aid station and I was asking JDF for time updates. From what he was telling me we were going to be cutting it really close.  I didn’t panic but I was running with my eyes wide open.  Upper Sam Merrill was a trail I’ve known well over the past couple months and was aware how technical it was, especially on tired legs.  I passed that runner and ran it as well as I could under the circumstances.  I ran up the Mt. Lowe Railway trail and all the way into Millard keeping my eyes peeled for headlamps.  We were approaching Millard and I asked for the time again.  I don’t remember what he told me but I knew there was no way I was stopping at the aid station.  After taking my last gulps of Coke at the base of the last climb I ran the whole thing hard.  I wanted to be under 24 so bad and I wanted to catch whoever was in front of me.  Down El Prieto, I ran the best I could from Millard to the Finish (:52).  As we hit the final road stretch through Alta Dena I desperately asked JDF for the time of day wondering if we would make it.  He smiled and held up his watch.  It was 4:32am.  He had been lying to me the whole time.  I briefly chocked up.  It was going to happen.  Finally.  I saw the next runner just ahead.  I fell 1 min short of catching him after a 48 min head start from Chantry.  It turns out it was my buddy Dave, who avenged his DNF last year spectacularly.  

I crossed the finish line and I couldn’t contain my emotions.  It was over and I had done it.  What a journey.  In the ensuing days I look back and of course wondered how much time I left out on the course.  What could I have done better?  It’s the joy and curse of the hundred miler.  It’ll always pull you in for more.  This particular race is more than just a race.  It’s a historic path through wonderful mountains that will teach you things about yourself you couldn’t have known otherwise.  Thanks to Marshall and Jimmy for taking their time and energy to help be a part of this journey.  Thank you to all the volunteers on the course and the special local ultrarunning community for making this race one to always come back to.

6:10

Final Time: 23:36

Finish: A hug from Sally McRae as I let my emotions get the best of me.
Photo: Michael Everest Dominguez

Congratulating Colin Cooley on a pacing and crewing job well done for Dave Daley

Reunited with my pacer/crew at the finish

Tired but happy with the sub-24 buckle at the award ceremony