tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64962155682072727102024-03-14T00:52:10.075-07:00Six, twelve, twenty-fourA blog about my quest to go under 6 hours for a 50k, 12 hours for a 50 miler, and 24 hours for a 100 milerBJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-79179764000660441752016-07-28T08:42:00.000-07:002016-07-28T14:00:11.454-07:00Ultrarunning, the ultimate team sportUltrarunning is, by its very nature, an individual sport. You are the one that has to put in the work, do the training, lose the weight, make the sacrifices, etc. Or is it? I think my experiences this year at Hardrock prove once and for all that ultrarunning can be, and maybe is best as, a team effort, as if it wasn't for my team, I wouldn't be writing this rosy report. As you'll read, if you decide to stick it out through this ramble through suffering and a touch of madness, Joey, Rich, Steve, and Erica nursed me through my 2 worst days I can remember at a race and somehow got me to the finish line relatively in one piece.<br />
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Just as a quick reminder, Hardrock is considered one of the toughest races around. It is 100 miles with 33,000 feet of climbing and you go over multiple passes over 13,000 feet and even climb a 14'er, Handies Peak. The last time I was here, in 2013, Erica and I got engaged at the finish line, and while the race was definitely tough, it went relatively smoothly all things considered and I finished just over 44 hours. As you will see, this time around, it was a whole different animal.<br />
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Last time I got in, I found out at a Charger tailgate and proceeded to get roaring drunk. This time, I found out I was 3 on the "else" wait list while I was traveling with Erica and her mom in New Zealand this past winter. Given I was #3, there was a pretty good shot that I was getting in, so I decided to enjoy those last few beers down under, because when I got back to the states, it was going to get real, real fast. <br />
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Last time, back in 2013, I figured I would train from the day of the Super Bowl in to the start. This time I thought I'd get a jump on things and start on January 1, giving me an extra month of training and to lose weight. Since I got it done last time, the plan was largely the same. Diet wise, no beer, sweets or soda from January 1 to race day. Training wise, just find the biggest mountains that are snow free and go up and down, etc. until race day. <br />
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And largely that was what I did. Training started in Mission Trails, but soon moved to Palm Springs to go up and down Cactus to Clouds which was the steepest, longest thing I could find, and then as the snow melted, I moved further and further up San Jacinto using Idylwild as a base. The runs were at least 8 hours long and involved the steepest, most technical terrain Southern California had to offer. <br />
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By mid-May, I found out I was officially in, which called for a Pliny to celebrate. I had already planned to go out 2.5 weeks early to acclimate and scout all the climbs I could get. It seemed going this way, the alleged faster way, the climbs were shorter, but much steeper. So I tried to adjust for that as well by doing steep repeats up Viejas Peak and Kway Paay in Mission Trails as opposed to the longer, more gradual efforts such as Palomar and Nate Harrison that I had concentrated on last time. <br />
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I also had a mostly new team this time. Brian, my pacer from 2013, couldn't make it, so besides Erica, I asked Rich White, RD of Cascade Crest, and Steve Yamamoto, a running friend from San Diego, to pace me. I wanted Steve as my first pacer and my finisher as he is by nature a problem solver, and I knew he could take a look at anything going haywire and come up with a good solution. I wanted Rich for the long middle miles as he always makes me laugh no matter what, and I knew I would need a good sense of humor out there trying to nail down the sometimes tedious trail between Sherman and Cunningham. I was planning on that being the whole team, but along the way, I picked up a new friend, Joey Schrichte, who was working at Durango Running Company and with whom I ran the Zion traverse. He said he wanted to be involved, so I invited him to crew me everywhere but Telluride where Erica would be solo. As you will see, I was so lucky to have had him, and everyone else.<br />
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I really enjoyed Camp Hardrock this year. It really is in many ways the best part about the race as you knock out all the hardest climbs one at a time in practice seeing a bunch of old friends and making new ones. I did some days with the marking crew, seeing Rachel, Andrew Barney, Tom Simmonds, Quentin, my buddy Vermont and a whole slew of other characters. Even better, I had the privilege of doing Grant Swamp and Handies with now 8 time finisher Scott Mills from San Diego and now 18 time finisher Betsy Kalmeyer. We had great days, and I kept my mouth shut and ears open, learning from 2 of the best in the biz. And as a last training run had a blast doing Giant Little Dives with Joey who drove up from Durango to check out the last climb with me and the tricky finish into Silverton. During all of these two weeks, my climbing was strong. I was leading the way or just off the pace and climbing between 2000 and 2500 feet per hour which was right where I wanted to be. While I was planning on just getting a finish, I thought 42 hours was possible on my best day and figured 43 to 44 hours was most likely.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yellow Jacket Mine on the Bear Creek Climb out of Ouray</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Betsy and Scotty descending Grant Swamp. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing Oscar's Pass. Grant Swamp can be seen at top center-left. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View down at the many switchbacks going up Oscar's Pass. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rachel and other course markers on the final pitch up Virginius.Note the tiny figures at the top of the pass. That's the location of the famous Kroger's Kanteen OUCH!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking a break after climbing Grouse American Pass on the way to Handies. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scotty, Betsy, and I on top of Handies. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from Grouse-American Pass back towards Grouse Gulch</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running down through the Aspens from Virginus on the way to Telluride. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last pitch on the way up to Handies. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Strange fish they have in Colorado. Scotty and Betsy cooling off in the river after a run. They made me sit for at least 10 minutes in the river at the end of every run. I did poorly. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scotty flying down Grouse American. He fought off a sore back and slow acclimatizing to crush the race for finish number 8. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tom crossing Mineral Creek after placing the rope and Rachel crossing South Mineral Creek before KT </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running down from Putnam during marking.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bear Creek Trail blown out of the cliff</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scott Mills at Ice Creek Crossing</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scott Mills and a frozen Island Lake on the way to Grant Swamp. It would be completely melted out by race day 10 days later.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Betsy Kalmeyer on the last approach to Grant Swamp</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joel's plaque. So perfect. Joel died after a Hardrock several years ago and the plaque overlooking Island Lake honors his memory. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Descent down Grant Swamp. Betsy is about 1/2 way down.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scotty and Betsy after descent looking out over Oscar's, the next climb. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YZJNdobcUeM/V5mRR-1wjUI/AAAAAAAABdw/JyRc4bG3M2s2nl2-8C3YMa96Zh6FP4d6ACK4B/s1600/IMG_1025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YZJNdobcUeM/V5mRR-1wjUI/AAAAAAAABdw/JyRc4bG3M2s2nl2-8C3YMa96Zh6FP4d6ACK4B/s320/IMG_1025.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Training the right way. Enjoying a nap after the Grant Swamp descent. The descent can be seen as the dirt strip on the left side of the cliff behind me. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I1Gn-4QAZmA/V5mRSNOetmI/AAAAAAAABd4/OcfSpVMX_b0up9mjb7wmlfwct0ALak4GwCK4B/s1600/IMG_1026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I1Gn-4QAZmA/V5mRSNOetmI/AAAAAAAABd4/OcfSpVMX_b0up9mjb7wmlfwct0ALak4GwCK4B/s320/IMG_1026.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scotty and I "training" San Diego style<br />
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I had almost 2 weeks on my own in the cabin, and I was starting to get in my own head at night after the runs, wondering if I was strong enough to get it done and worrying about every little thing. So I was really glad when my folks started arriving in town. First Rich arrived with his girlfriend Sam and her son Jacob and dog Moe. We spent the next days hiking around and the evenings playing triominos and grilling out on the deck. I did some fishing in the creek by the cabin and pulled out some brookies. On Tuesday before the race, Erica came in town and by Thursday Steve and Joey both arrived, so the team was complete the day before the race. Nerves were tight, but I was feeling as ready as I could be.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FiiSbKrJJKk/V5mWr8Yz85I/AAAAAAAABfk/EbeT41Cs3dEyz0P9Vlh_QIhAOhlvLeQhACK4B/s1600/pacing%2Bcrew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FiiSbKrJJKk/V5mWr8Yz85I/AAAAAAAABfk/EbeT41Cs3dEyz0P9Vlh_QIhAOhlvLeQhACK4B/s320/pacing%2Bcrew.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My pacers Rich and Steve (and dog Moe) on top of Grant Swamp. Photo by Joey Schrichte.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WhCneMU80wI/V5mXSZuRBSI/AAAAAAAABfs/xBI9dhP7zEcXxebpp5VDh4JQDf16rwaKQCK4B/s1600/joey%2Bgiant%2Blittle%2Bdives.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WhCneMU80wI/V5mXSZuRBSI/AAAAAAAABfs/xBI9dhP7zEcXxebpp5VDh4JQDf16rwaKQCK4B/s320/joey%2Bgiant%2Blittle%2Bdives.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crew and jack of all trades Joey after out climb up Giant Little Dives.</td></tr>
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Race morning I was up before the alarm. I felt pretty ready, but nervous as usual. After signing in, we hung around the gym waiting for word to start the race. Eventually they told everyone to go outside, so we did. We kind of milled about and suddenly everyone started moving. I missed the start of the race! Whoa! So I dropped into the back of the pack and started the run to the Shrine. I briefly caught up with Scotty long enough to give him and Angela some crap and then settled in for the first few miles to the stream crossing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Be_NOg2aXck/V5maf03UN-I/AAAAAAAABgQ/8Ui4wTYmTMYImUZ5bZCiHPBXOtS43H4RACK4B/s1600/IMG_4995.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Be_NOg2aXck/V5maf03UN-I/AAAAAAAABgQ/8Ui4wTYmTMYImUZ5bZCiHPBXOtS43H4RACK4B/s320/IMG_4995.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day before the race. Erica gave me a shirt to build my confidence. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IDw52cATGLA/V5mZsXqzYmI/AAAAAAAABgE/gMzPfmRHE3ELHspCLjdQKoDJN08rk0wgQCK4B/s1600/race%2Bmorning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IDw52cATGLA/V5mZsXqzYmI/AAAAAAAABgE/gMzPfmRHE3ELHspCLjdQKoDJN08rk0wgQCK4B/s320/race%2Bmorning.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting ready. Body Glide is your friend. My friend was everywhere.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OcSDnBuC8G0/V5pMSRGjtxI/AAAAAAAABko/ouGaOMv1WhweJ7X9eQu1QdSHSpymoosfgCK4B/s1600/IMG_5013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OcSDnBuC8G0/V5pMSRGjtxI/AAAAAAAABko/ouGaOMv1WhweJ7X9eQu1QdSHSpymoosfgCK4B/s320/IMG_5013.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The before pic. Sponsored by Scattered Double Covered and Chunked.. Photo by Erica Deese</td></tr>
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For this direction of Hardrock, you get a road crossing 2 miles in across the main road through the San Juans. Everyone from the start migrated here, and its like a soccer tunnel for adults running through to the creek crossing. I imagine its the ultra version of the girls at Boston. Everyone is lining across the road blocking traffic, cheering you on. I found a burst of energy and was screaming "LETS GET WET!" as I ran through and saw Erica and Steve and Joey and Paul Jesse and Jean Mills and lots of other friendly familiar faces as I ran through the crowd. Then you plunged into waist deep Mineral Creek, got out the other side, and reality set in as the climb to Putnam started. There wasn't even the usual nervous banter as folks settled into the single track conga line. Instead, you could still feel the nerves as everyone tried to figure out what kind of day(s) they were going to have. I surprised Scotty and Angela both pants down in the bushes. Synchronized bathroom stops! But soon they had pushed ahead and out of sight. Step, step, breathe and soon we were on top of Putnam (1 climb down) and headed down through the woods to KT, where I pulled in about 9:30, right on schedule.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KXHDR2M1kO0/V5mirIpEJ5I/AAAAAAAABgg/hKeC-R-fC0Y9vXH57f_oFuv_C4OTNHYsgCK4B/s1600/crossing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KXHDR2M1kO0/V5mirIpEJ5I/AAAAAAAABgg/hKeC-R-fC0Y9vXH57f_oFuv_C4OTNHYsgCK4B/s320/crossing.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Excited to see everyone apparently. Photo Steve Yamamoto</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scotty and Angela waiting to cross. Photo Erica Deese</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E0_97YgNSqY/V5mjIYdkwAI/AAAAAAAABg0/i4SiUJ1Q5nMIiYRUxQgU6myiDTKBUSoIACK4B/s1600/IMG_5027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E0_97YgNSqY/V5mjIYdkwAI/AAAAAAAABg0/i4SiUJ1Q5nMIiYRUxQgU6myiDTKBUSoIACK4B/s320/IMG_5027.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me crossing a bit too recklessly. LETS GET WET!<br />
Photo Erica Deese</td></tr>
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After KT, the field started to spread out a little. I spent some time chatting with Scott Brockmeier on the way to the Ice Lake Stream crossing and then started the trek up Grant Swamp. All the way on the climb, groups of runners were coming down having climbed up to the pass to see the leaders go through. Everyone of them had a high 5 or fist bump as they stepped aside for us to continue our trudge. It was great to see everyone and took lots of energy from everyone of them. Grant Swamp is pretty steep but short, the first of 3 climbs that each get a little longer and a little steeper - Grant Swamp, Oscars, and Virginus. I viewed these as the crux of the race. Just survive these feeling fresh, and I should be able to have a pretty good race.<br />
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As I got to Island Lake, I heard someone call my name. Rich, Sam, Jacob and Moe were all there hiking to the top. Rich and Moe fell in step with me as we pushed for the crest. Then I heard someone on top calling my name, and it was Steve and Joey! All right! I always like getting cheered for. It puts a pep in my step, so I crested Grant Swamp, said hi to the guys, and jumped off the other side on my way down, feeling exactly how I needed to feel. The descent is hairy, but short, and by halfway down, you are scree surfing in ankle deep pebbles which was actually pretty fun. Then it takes a while to clear the boulder fields before you can start making time down into Chapman, where I arrived at 11:30, cramping a little but still feeling relatively fresh. A quick hot shot and some calories and I was on my way up Oscar's.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XRCBjJdjNFQ/V5mkq4cFarI/AAAAAAAABhM/xBA8UJuP3NsQ928XG4YIvtfx44k2lWs4wCK4B/s1600/scotty%2Bgrant%2Bswamp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XRCBjJdjNFQ/V5mkq4cFarI/AAAAAAAABhM/xBA8UJuP3NsQ928XG4YIvtfx44k2lWs4wCK4B/s320/scotty%2Bgrant%2Bswamp.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scotty topping out Grant Swamp. Photo by Steve Yamamoto.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L6bHLPPSRyc/V5mkqgsgI6I/AAAAAAAABhE/2EzkO7n_1q0txdGshASHYEPUGDvUjWO-ACK4B/s1600/scotty%2Band%2Bangela%2Bdescent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L6bHLPPSRyc/V5mkqgsgI6I/AAAAAAAABhE/2EzkO7n_1q0txdGshASHYEPUGDvUjWO-ACK4B/s320/scotty%2Band%2Bangela%2Bdescent.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And there Scotty and Angela go down the other side. Angela was nervous about the descent but from all reports, she and her magic shorts handled it like a champ.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WZJBiE6bxz4/V5mlMZ1M0aI/AAAAAAAABhc/xiM_OiO6EeoJbvX_A8OC0K7Qxgb7HWxRACK4B/s1600/bj%2Band%2Brich%2Bgrant%2Bswamp.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WZJBiE6bxz4/V5mlMZ1M0aI/AAAAAAAABhc/xiM_OiO6EeoJbvX_A8OC0K7Qxgb7HWxRACK4B/s320/bj%2Band%2Brich%2Bgrant%2Bswamp.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Topping out Grant Swamp. Rich and Moe behind with Island Lake in the background. Photo by Joey Schrichte.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qE0V1mQi42U/V5mlL5RkNSI/AAAAAAAABhU/MZtAYSOE5Zca6uCKqJ12XuwYT-wKgowQwCK4B/s1600/bj%2Bgrant%2Bswamp.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qE0V1mQi42U/V5mlL5RkNSI/AAAAAAAABhU/MZtAYSOE5Zca6uCKqJ12XuwYT-wKgowQwCK4B/s320/bj%2Bgrant%2Bswamp.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting ready for the descent. Steve following to capture the carnage. Photo by Joey Schrichte. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-78aN7FzMS88/V5mlshxiXII/AAAAAAAABhw/C0qE8ZW6gi8XPdnUvCZEeqttGeQs-NtWACK4B/s1600/grant%2Bswamp%2Bme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-78aN7FzMS88/V5mlshxiXII/AAAAAAAABhw/C0qE8ZW6gi8XPdnUvCZEeqttGeQs-NtWACK4B/s320/grant%2Bswamp%2Bme.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finishing the climb. Photo by Steve Yamamoto.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u1IpSqYs-a8/V5mlst1VNEI/AAAAAAAABhs/YOmfypHHB207eql34_oD5gur1yUoSLreQCK4B/s1600/grant%2Bswamp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u1IpSqYs-a8/V5mlst1VNEI/AAAAAAAABhs/YOmfypHHB207eql34_oD5gur1yUoSLreQCK4B/s320/grant%2Bswamp.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what we went down. It looks scarier than it is. Photo by Steve Yamamoto.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-igVwBD87Ct8/V5mt5Itb6yI/AAAAAAAABig/Ze-3r9mxWjwdY-zX3aFGkOL7lgaD5YHLgCK4B/s1600/me%2Bdescent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-igVwBD87Ct8/V5mt5Itb6yI/AAAAAAAABig/Ze-3r9mxWjwdY-zX3aFGkOL7lgaD5YHLgCK4B/s320/me%2Bdescent.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me on that descent. I'm the little blue dot. Photo by Steve Yamamoto.</td></tr>
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After Grant Swamp came Oscar's which I had done very well on during training. I hit the climb hard, ready to get through it just like Grant Swamp. But . . . Uh oh. I found I could only go for about 2 to 3 minutes, and then had to take a rest. Soon, people were passing me left and right, and I wasn't even halfway up the climb. I tried to sit, take calories, and regroup. I started again - nothing. Nothing at all. It was climb 3, and I had nothing to give. I still had 10 climbs after this and about 28,000 feet of climbing left. Mild panic set in. I just tried to get to the top of the climb, hoping I could reassess once I was there. As I broke tree line and could look behind me, I could see lines of people coming up towards me, all ready to pass me as felt like I was moving backwards. In total, I think I was passed by 20 people on the climb, and each person that passed me took a little piece of my morale with them.<br />
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I finally made the top and onto the snow fields. As my legs were shot, I fell at least 5 times trying to navigate the snow to get to the Wasatch basin. Finally, hands frozen from falling in the snow, mired in self-pity and self-loathing, I made the pass. I knew already that my race was in jeopardy. I tried to breath slow, relax, and remember my training. Instead of pushing, I tried to use the downhill to recover my legs and get a second wind. I ended up passing a few folks back, but rolled into Telluride very down. Seeing Erica cheered me up instantly, and I decided to take a little longer stop than planned to take in some extra calories. I also took advantage of the facilities and moved out, trying to clear my head and tell myself that this climb was a new opportunity, and maybe my legs were back . . .<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ocB9QJL8zJY/V5mnn5355TI/AAAAAAAABh8/RJ9zsQdJtvgLeFDin309tXFWHMMCQ3erQCK4B/s1600/IMG_5029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ocB9QJL8zJY/V5mnn5355TI/AAAAAAAABh8/RJ9zsQdJtvgLeFDin309tXFWHMMCQ3erQCK4B/s320/IMG_5029.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Telluride, trying to recoup and get some calories. Photo Erica Deese. </td></tr>
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At first, I thought I had recovered and passed a few folks right off the bat. But once the slopes steepened about halfway through the climb, the same problems arose. Sigh. Step, step, breathe, pause, step, step, etc. I just tried to grind away at it, reminding myself that I had 11 miles of downhill to recover once I got over the top. Once the climb opens up into the basin about 1.5 miles from the top, it gets super steep trying to get to the saddle. Looking back, I could see several pursuers, and knew that it was getting passed time again. I resigned myself to my fate and watched several people go by me and up and over the ridge. Trying not to get angry or down, I kept my head down and kept grinding. Finally, a few steep steps, and I could see the station and hear Horton calling my name from the top. Whew! The last of the three crux climbs done, and not a step too soon. My goal was to feel fresh, but I was wrecked and hours behind schedule. Well, I still had time to finish, so time to reassess and reset the goals. I took some Coke there which seemed to give me a good kick, had the traditional shot of tequila, and down the pass I went.<br />
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I should have taken some pictures of the descent, but it was pretty damn terrifying. There was a fixed rope for your to hold onto as you headed over the top. In training, it had all been soft snow to glissade down. Now, it was a mixture of rock and snow, and given that it was now sometime after 7 PM, the snow had started to freeze back over and was slick and hard and at a 60 degree downward angle. Gulp. I just hung on and did what I could. Once off the rope, there were 2 more pitches to go, each equally as steep but shorter. In some places I did glissade. In others, I just slipped and slid and prayed. I had a guy going down with me, so he and I were shouting encouragement to one another as we went. It was good to have some company on this part. At the bottom, we ran into Alan Smith, who was doing his second Hardrock in 3 days, having run it in the other direction and finished just before the race started. What a hardass. I don't think he made it, but man, dream big! I soon hit the road and made it down to Governor's Basin, where I sat and enjoyed soup and watched a porcupine cross the road. That made 2 for the trip. Far out!<br />
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From there, it was an 8 mile road run. I set out and made decent if not outstanding pace down the road. One of the highlights were the random cute French girls cheering for everyone by the side of the road. Zoot Allures! I also enjoyed sharing some miles with Andrea Feucht (sorry if I butchered the last name, Andrea) and chatting about what we were looking forward to in the aid stations, etc. I wanted to be in Ouray by dark, but that goal was long gone, and I think I pulled in finally around 10 or 10:30. Joey was suited up and ready to pace if I needed it, Erica having told him about my struggles. But I wanted to do the first night on my own, so while I very much appreciated it, I got down some calories and headed out alone to climb to Engineer.<br />
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This is the longest climb in the race at 8 miles and 5500 feet or thereabouts. But it is never really steep until the very end. I got passed by a few folks, but seemed to find my climbing equilibrium somewhere in here and started holding a pace that was more like I had expected. It was pitch black as I crossed over highway 550 and climbed the shale switchbacks that sounded like plates breaking on every step. You then get to the shelf trail, but while I could hear the creek, it was too dark to see the 1000 foot drop below you. The night moved steadily on as I climbed steadily up. But I found as I climbed, I couldn't get any calories down. I tried just about everything in my pack, but vomited 3 or 4 times and nothing stayed down. Uh oh number 2. Just as I was recovering, I could do nothing calorie wise. I pulled into Engineer station, about 3/4 of the way up the climb, and sat and tried for soup which always works. RALPH! Oh man, this is bad. All that I could get down was some pudding pouches, and I didn't have many of those. Realizing further attempts at calories was a useless effort, I just headed out and up. The climb gets super steep at the end as you are stumbling cross-country up a giant hill, but there is a blinking red light beckoning you like a deranged Cylon, and before I knew it, I was staring it in the face. Woo hoo! That was climb . . . 5? Only climb 5? And only 50 miles under my belt and it was 4 AM? Man, still a LOOOOOOONG way to go. Don't think about it. Just get to Grouse, where I knew Joey was there to crew and Steve would pick up pacing duties.<br />
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I made up a ton of time on this section, relatively speaking, and my crew said they had to boogie through Silverton to meet me on time at Grouse. There was a nice warm tent which I refused to enter. Death. Death. Death. I'll sit out here where its cold so I won't be tempted. I told everyone about my vomitathon, and they leaped into action. Unfortunately . . .<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5hImZdufDGc/V5msOqzF3vI/AAAAAAAABiI/NvFoQ0gbh8EEYm9jPAL_MKzM_MesE2fQwCK4B/s1600/IMG_5056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5hImZdufDGc/V5msOqzF3vI/AAAAAAAABiI/NvFoQ0gbh8EEYm9jPAL_MKzM_MesE2fQwCK4B/s320/IMG_5056.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">RALPH! An all too familiar scene . . . Photo Steve Yamamoto. Thanks Steve.</td></tr>
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We realized it was a bit of a crisis, but we filled my bottles with Gatorade so I would at least get some calories down and headed out. Let me pause for a moment here to tell you about my team. Every time I came into a station, I was cared for like a cross between a rock star and total baby. Somebody would untie, dump, and retie my shoes. I remember someone changing my shirt for me. If I made a calorie request, someone else would evaporate into the crowd, only to reappear with runny eggs or anything else they thought might work to get me some food. To say I was humbled doesn't begin to describe how I felt. I couldn't believe the sacrifices and work these guys were doing just to drag my sorry butt to the finish, and I quickly made the decision to just turn myself over to them and bury my ego. Let these guys help you, because you need it. And since these guys were giving their all, the least I could do was suck it up and start moving. So I did that, with Steve in tow.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aZj3M-R5-Hc/V5muRaPWI8I/AAAAAAAABio/qhke7E4QDx0L1O9dK5j7Um3VZMewVCkkACK4B/s1600/13703198_595134373997648_1652306685_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aZj3M-R5-Hc/V5muRaPWI8I/AAAAAAAABio/qhke7E4QDx0L1O9dK5j7Um3VZMewVCkkACK4B/s320/13703198_595134373997648_1652306685_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steve and I headed out. Photo by Joey Schrichte.</td></tr>
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Just as an aside, let me say that I have always been relatively anti-pacer and crew because I like the feeling of battling alone against the mountains, and I like the solo challenge against the mountains. I viewed crew and pacers as luxury. But one thing I learned from this race was humility and how to accept help. My pacers and crew weren't an added bonus for this race - they plain flat out were the reason I made it. I knew if I was having problems, coming out of Grouse was a good place to diagnose and fix them. And dammit, Steve was right on as I knew he would be. As we climbed, Steve realized I was climbing much too aggressively and wearing myself out. He took the lead and had me follow his pace, which was based on the rate of my breathing. Pretty soon we were in a comfortable rhythm that I felt I could hold for a long time. And we held our spot in the lineup, getting passed a few times and passing a few folks. As we watched the sun come up over Handies while topping Grouse American Pass, I realized for the first time that dammit, I was going to make it. It wouldn't be pretty, but now it was just a matter of doing the work. The climbing problem, while slow, was largely fixed thanks to Steve.<br />
<br />
We shared a bunch of miles in here with Ken Bonus who I knew from San Diego and Oregon and got passed by Betsy who was moving like the proverbial bat of hell. After we crested Grouse American Pass - climb 6! - we headed down ready for Handies. I heard someone calling my name, and there was Joey and Rich partway up the climb! What the heck?! They had driven over Cinnamon Pass - which I still haven't heard the whole scoop about but was scary enough that they drove the long way back to Silverton - and hiked up American basin to cheer me on. I honestly got choked up seeing them, and they cheered us up towards Sloan Lake giving me a huge boost. The rest of the climb came and went, with the last 1/4 mile to the top of Handies being absolutely brutal. UGH! But soon we were there. We found some FSU students to take our picture up top. I seriously doubted their ability to point the Iphone in the right direction or push the right button, but I guess they did OK. They proved my theory. Chris Twiggs excepted, Noles day-hike up Handies, Gators do Hardrock.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NR_GT4mxDEU/V5mw3zHZDXI/AAAAAAAABiw/GtjfL86I5fUhWFjfWy51JxB3wy3H5RwjACK4B/s1600/grouse%2Bclimb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NR_GT4mxDEU/V5mw3zHZDXI/AAAAAAAABiw/GtjfL86I5fUhWFjfWy51JxB3wy3H5RwjACK4B/s320/grouse%2Bclimb.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing up to Grouse American Pass. Robert Hunt would not approve of my form. Photo by Steve Yamamoto</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U3kyK72poBU/V5mxXOkaLZI/AAAAAAAABi4/L8IhIDSgqk4vu0aNs_G8WAYVBmGtHH1gACK4B/s1600/andy%2Bhewat%2Bnapping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U3kyK72poBU/V5mxXOkaLZI/AAAAAAAABi4/L8IhIDSgqk4vu0aNs_G8WAYVBmGtHH1gACK4B/s320/andy%2Bhewat%2Bnapping.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We found this corpse on Grouse American Pass. Actually its Andy Hewat taking a nap face first in the dirt. He would go on to finish. Photo by Steve Yamamoto.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KQYKjXFcRKk/V5mx9Zdi1_I/AAAAAAAABjY/Qa-I3SqqrHoyYzSq7ZZymbD_hmvu1FnxQCK4B/s1600/handies%2Bclimb.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KQYKjXFcRKk/V5mx9Zdi1_I/AAAAAAAABjY/Qa-I3SqqrHoyYzSq7ZZymbD_hmvu1FnxQCK4B/s320/handies%2Bclimb.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steve and I starting the Handies ascent. Photo by Joey Schrichte</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5lUR3Uk1YW4/V5mx0tLV9PI/AAAAAAAABjM/BGfvg9u-zb8yfbAiRI1SxuASY3iNyRkHACK4B/s1600/handies%2Bclimb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5lUR3Uk1YW4/V5mx0tLV9PI/AAAAAAAABjM/BGfvg9u-zb8yfbAiRI1SxuASY3iNyRkHACK4B/s320/handies%2Bclimb.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the final pitch. Photo by Steve Yamamoto</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YLCP20oDMvw/V5mxz6kj_4I/AAAAAAAABjE/AyK8fOAsU74U-z4PFw4WnYf_bd5AG_WRwCK4B/s1600/handies%2Btop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YLCP20oDMvw/V5mxz6kj_4I/AAAAAAAABjE/AyK8fOAsU74U-z4PFw4WnYf_bd5AG_WRwCK4B/s320/handies%2Btop.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On top of Handies! 14,068 feet! Thanks for dragging me up Steve. Photo by some random FSU losers, I mean nice students. </td></tr>
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<br />
I was charged up to be over the highest point in the course and knew I had 8 miles of downhill in front of me. The descent from Handies is pretty tricky. I tried to push the pace and ended up falling 3 or 4 times, one time really badly that knocked the wind out of me. That scared me enough that I backed off the pace for the rest of the descent and took it easy into Burrows. Who was there to watch at Burrows, but Joey and Rich, cheering for me again with lots of encouragement and smiles. All right! I sat down at Burrows to try to get calories. Soup? Noodly vomit. Ginger ale? Fizzy vomit. Pot sticker? Pot sticker! That's not even going to go in to get a chance to go up again. I nibbled on a grilled cheese, and then Steve got me up and headed down the road. He tried to get me to throw some runs down where I could, and I tried to answer the bell, pretty meekly I'm sure in hindsight, but at the time I felt I was getting something done. Again, no one passed us, and from the point where I picked up my pacer to the finish, I think I gained 5 or 10 spots, many in aid stations, but some on the road as well. I was passed by 1 or 2 folks, but did much more passing myself. I know if we had been able to get my nutrition dialed, it would have been even better. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XFpiVUhyvJI/V5m745kJuxI/AAAAAAAABjw/dAuVLOXa3TET_K8KOrgl4t9pxNZc7fJEQCK4B/s1600/13768184_1036234566464067_986203446_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XFpiVUhyvJI/V5m745kJuxI/AAAAAAAABjw/dAuVLOXa3TET_K8KOrgl4t9pxNZc7fJEQCK4B/s320/13768184_1036234566464067_986203446_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steve and I dropping into Burrows. Photo by Joey Schrichte</td></tr>
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At the end of the road was the Sherman aid station which is the single best aid station in the sport, hands down. It is what I aspire to at all my stations. Every runner has a personal volunteer. They have a menu 20 items long. They have flowers in the bathroom! Joey and Rich were waiting as Rich would take over here. I wanted Rich for the next 20 because I knew they were going to be tedious at times, with lots of flatish trail and aid stations that seemed a ridge too far. I was going to lean on his sense of humor and grab ass to keep things interesting and to keep me motivated. Joey had me fed as best he could, had me equipped with full bottles of coke and gatorade, and out we went.<br />
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The climb from Sherman is relatively gentle, but long. I was taking breaks every 20 to 30 minutes to try to get some calories down, even if it was just a little jello or pudding. We tried doing it on the move, but that just resulted in more vomit, so Rich made the smart decision that calories > time at this point as I had plenty of time to finish and my hopes for beating my time from last year was already out the window. The climb was pretty through the trees and up past the waterfall. I always forget how long it takes to reach that second lake, and then how long the descent to Pole Creek takes. Rich did a great job of letting me lead once we were off the climb and keeping me motivated to jog where I could. I have great, if fuzzy, memories of cracking jokes all through here, screwing around. Rich kept the pace perfect and mood light, encouraging me to get down calories where I could, which was not often. Looking back, I think between 10 PM Friday and the finish at almost 5 AM Sunday, I took in about 800 to 1000 calories. Soon we were through Pole Creek, up and over Maggie's Pass and on our way to the aid station. Some hot chocolate hit the spot there, but brisket, hot dog buns, pie, and soup not so much. Greasy vomit, bready vomit, crusty vomit, and potato-y vomit. Well, might as well pack it up and get moving . . .<br />
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From Maggies there is a super steep climb, and things went a little south here too. On top of calories and getting super tired, I could hear my breath rattling in my chest and I was having a lot of trouble just getting any oxygen at all. I tried to hide it so Rich wouldn't hear. I was petrified that for some reason, he or someone else was going to tell me I couldn't go on. I pictured race officials hiding out behind bushes, looking for people who were struggling. But despite my efforts to keep it quiet, he heard it and could tell I was struggling and slowed the pace accordingly. Eventually, much slower than I had hoped, we topped out to the mountains on fire at sunset, which took both our breaths away. The sun was behind the peaks, but framed them in bright orange against a jagged toothy mountain grin. I can't believe I didn't take a picture, but my mind was not functioning. Ever since the top of the wooded climb out of Sherman, I had been battling fatigue and sleepiness, and barely felt as if I was in my own body. The hallucinations were coming fast and heavy, especially cairns which looked like little guys in Chinese Coolie hats taking pictures, but again, I didn't say a word as I didn't want anyone to think I had lost it, which indeed at this point I think I had. Thankfully, it was too cold to think about napping, so we kept on trucking.<br />
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The wind was cold on top of Hardrocker point, but we soon dropped down to the Camby traverse and then crossed Stony Pass. The climb up from there to Green Mountain Pass looked benign on paper, but it really hurt. Not sure why it seemed so brutal, but I should have scouted it out at some point. I wasn't ready for it. But we made it over eventually. The descent down from there to the valley is a nightmare of cross-country grassy steps that meander all over the hill side. Instead of being able to make up time, I was gingerly tiptoeing around the meadows, just trying to stay upright. Finally, we hooked up to a trail, serenaded by the sheep dogs barking in the distance. Rich again let me take lead, and finally, FINALLY, I started to feel strong and make up some time. A little late for a second wind, 89 miles into Hardrock, but I was determined to take advantage while I could. We passed a few groups in here, and when we hit the super technical descent down into Cunningham, I was able to kick it up a notch and make progress. I was told down below that we were the fastest group to descend in quite some time. Part of that was Rich told me what time it was. I had no idea. I was thinking worst case scenario, I'm into Cunningham by 10. It was 11:45 as we came down off the mountain. Crap. A quick wave of disappointment crashed over me and sucked my energy out, but just then I heard Joey and Erica calling from way down below. Again, everyone picked me up and saved me. I reassessed again. Dude, you got a finish, and that's the key. The rest is gravy. Pull your head out of your ass, get over yourself, and keep pushing. So I did, or tried to.<br />
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I was very calm and business like when I got to the bottom or felt like I was. 6 hours was plenty of time to get this section done assuming nothing went wrong. I sat down outside the warm tent (DEATH!), tried to take in some calories through hot chocolate, had my bottles filled with coke and mountain dew, and headed out, thanking Rich before I left as now I was with Steve again. This last 9.5 miles started with a climb that was 2600 feet in 2 miles. But I had practiced it twice, so I just lowered my head and started at Steve's shoes. When he stepped, I stepped. Where he stepped, I stepped. I pictured a machine, churning out steps. Whirrrr, whirrr, whirrr, whirrr. Like Rich, Steve was a perfect lead and we made steady progress up the hill, again passing many folks both in the aid station and on our way up. Man, how far up the climb were we? There's the waterfall, there's the old mine, there's the mill. Time for a break? No breaks? Steve was gentle but firm. "BJ, if you want to get this done, we gotta keep moving." OK. Whirrr, whirr, whirr, whirrr. I am a climbing robot. I come from the planet Climb-a-tron where everything is uphill and there is no top. Whirr, whirr, whirr, whirr.<br />
<br />
Suddenly, I felt a breeze, and I knew what that meant. We rounded a corner, and there was the top! Holy mackrel, we made it! Robot mode switched off and I took the lead from Steve. I wanted to be done now. I knew we had a long way, but for just the second time all race, the finish seemed real. Just don't get hurt and its done. Well, I fell 3 times in a rush to get down off the hill, so I backed off a little, but once we hit the road, we ran almost the whole way down to the nasty beaver trail. Even that we pushed on and on, through the shoe sucking mud, cold streams and ponds, and endless forest trail. I'm telling you, those last 3 miles last forever. But suddenly, there was the mill. I could see the lights of the town. I turned to Steve and gave him a big hug. "I can't believe we did it!" I said, or at least I think I said. It probably sounded more like "Slien oiheigoi owieoianlislihoai Oineoin!" <br />
<br />
I sent Steve ahead to let Erica know I was coming and padded the last .5 miles by myself. Like last time, I was too exhausted to feel elated. More than anything, I felt relieved. Relieved that I didn't quit. Relieved that I didn't let anyone down by not finishing. Relieved that all my training and hard work had put me in a place that even on my worst of days, and this was just about the worst of days, I had enough to coax my body to the finish. As I rounded the corner, I started to scream and whoop it up. Wake up Silverton! 134 is coming home! Only 46 hours and 40 minutes after he was just here!<br />
<br />
I rounded the corner and planted a big fat kiss on the Hardrock, then a big fat kiss on Dale, then a big fat kiss on Erica, who I think enjoyed it the least of the three. Dale asked if I had any announcements I wanted to make this time, and I said not unless coughing up my spleen counts. I then felt someone grab me, and it was Scotty and Angela who had finished hours earlier but had set their alarms and woken back up after miles of running just to come back to see me finish. I didn't even have words to say as I was once again humbled beyond what I knew how to express by their kindness and attention.<br />
<br />
I sat inside and talked to everyone, trying to recount how grateful I was to everybody and I am sure failing miserably. Then Erica came up to me, and she had tears in her eyes. "It's OK baby, I made it, don't cry," I said, of course assuming that it was all about me. She just looked at me and said "I hit a bear!" Of course, I was still exhausted and hallucinating, because I thought she said she had hit a bear. What, I did hear correctly? "Well are you OK? And the bear's OK?" "Yes. Are you mad?" I felt like Ron Burgundy when Baxter tells him he ate the wheel of cheese. "No, of course I'm not mad. That's amazing." Turns out Erica had hit a bear driving from Telluride back to the cabin but no one wanted to tell me. Steve did some impromptu car repair with an axe, and the car was as good as new. Well, not really, but drivable! That gave us all some good laughs, but it was time to go home and go to bed.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DyQADZLjbLQ/V5m7cNAQCMI/AAAAAAAABjo/e88K5gsazDk5R4kx7IzE1Kkmps3C6ZO-gCK4B/s1600/13707155_604398256395359_326079399_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DyQADZLjbLQ/V5m7cNAQCMI/AAAAAAAABjo/e88K5gsazDk5R4kx7IzE1Kkmps3C6ZO-gCK4B/s320/13707155_604398256395359_326079399_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finished! I love this picture, because Joey perfectly captured the dreamy state in which I ran that last 12 hours of the race. Everything was out of focus and out of body. Photo by Joey Schrichte</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MZr8f7i-vwg/V5nDTdZE_qI/AAAAAAAABkA/O6W0U8ei7ZMpXEijmjnisr7bxC5uFhtVQCK4B/s1600/Axe%2Brepair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MZr8f7i-vwg/V5nDTdZE_qI/AAAAAAAABkA/O6W0U8ei7ZMpXEijmjnisr7bxC5uFhtVQCK4B/s320/Axe%2Brepair.jpg" width="280" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steve's car repair, can I help you? </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lNUkMNuMU6c/V5nECoKulrI/AAAAAAAABkI/AoA12y7pIWsiwDqL4SKkn6YjrcW7ecmwgCK4B/s1600/Bear-hubcap-460_793498c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lNUkMNuMU6c/V5nECoKulrI/AAAAAAAABkI/AoA12y7pIWsiwDqL4SKkn6YjrcW7ecmwgCK4B/s320/Bear-hubcap-460_793498c.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At least the bear walked away with something for its efforts. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G_5GHRFQaxU/V5pyHS_qjDI/AAAAAAAABk4/imJetv7JaYE4SxpUcLkDMDHC5eEudoOTQCK4B/s1600/scotty%2Bfinish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G_5GHRFQaxU/V5pyHS_qjDI/AAAAAAAABk4/imJetv7JaYE4SxpUcLkDMDHC5eEudoOTQCK4B/s320/scotty%2Bfinish.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Scotty Mills right after the finish. 10 finishes between us! Well, he has 8 of them, but still . . . Picture by Steve Yamamoto</td></tr>
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<br />
After falling asleep several times in the car on the way home and in the shower, it was a quick 2 hour nap and then back to the gym for the awards ceremony and breakfast. Erica, Joey, and I sat with the San Diego crew of Angela, Paul Jesse, Scotty and Jean Mills and Gary Wang. So good to see Paul and laugh about the race and swap tales. The awards were great, with the non-finishers and those who finished after the cut off getting the loudest applause. I ended up 104 out of 112 finishers (or something like that) and 152 starters. Not what I was hoping for, but I'll take it.<br />
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It took us 2 days to drive home, with Erica doing just about all the driving of our bear-splattered FJ, bless her. It took a lot longer than that to recover. I wasn't able to eat a meal until 3 days after the race, and I still haven't gotten caught up on all the sleep and rest I need, but it will come. One thing I don't have is any regrets about leaving anything out on the course. I turned myself inside out for this one.<br />
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I'm not sure really why my two days sucked so bad. All of my training indicated a better time. I'm guessing the heat had something to do with it as it was the hottest Hardrock on record. But it wasn't that hot. Maybe mixed with the altitude it was a bad brew. Its a big race, so once something goes wrong, it usually starts a cascade of things. I'm sure my bad stomach was related to too much time about 11,000 feet which was related to my slow climbing legs, etc. Anyways, I guess if I knew why sometimes folks had good or bad days, I'd make a lot of money as a coach. I was just glad I had enough training and support such that even on my worst day, it was good enough to get over the line.<br />
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So let me end, where I began, acknowledging the team. I swallowed my pride and turned myself over to them and they delivered in spades, and we should all get our names on the buckle. Maybe we should name the team, like The Hardrock Ultrons. Or The Hardrock Hardrockers. Team BJ is out for obvious reasons . . . Anyways, thank you, thank you, thank you to Rich White, Steve Yamamoto, Joey Schrichte, and Erica Deese. Guys, this would not have happened without each and every one of you. I have said it too many times, but I was so humbled by your efforts, your grace, your good humor, and your willingness to sacrifice your time, money, and sweat to help me achieve my goal. This really is our achievement, and I share it equally with each one of you. I look forward to being able to return the favor someday soon.<br />
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Thanks to Dale, the Hardrock board of directors, and all the volunteers out there. Big thanks to Scotty and Angela for coming out to see me at the finish. That meant more to me than I know how to express. Thank you to Sam, Jacob and Moe for keeping me sane before the race, cheering me on during the race, and using your family vacation to deliver Rich to save my bacon. Thanks to all of you who followed from afar. I got all your messages and felt you rooting for me and thought of you all when times got tough. I put cards in my drop bags with lists of things to do at an aid station and little sayings to keep me motivated. While the vast majority have to do with how great it is to be a Florida Gator, I put one mid race that said "Think of everyone who loves you and is rooting for you lifting your feet on every climb." And I did just that.<br />
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And last but never least, thank you Erica for making all this possible. You've been with me for every race, and Hardrock will always hold a special place for us. Your patience in listening to me prattle on about my training, your sacrifices you make to allow me to pursue my dreams, and your support throughout have always been the rock on which I build everything I do. Most of all, I appreciate you running over the bear that was on his way to go ambush me somewhere over Ouray. Way to take one for the team.<br />
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So, I hear you ask, will there be a number three? You shut your mouth. Its way too early to even think about that.<br />
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<br />BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-55275095113187120252013-07-22T14:22:00.001-07:002013-07-26T11:13:28.611-07:00Hardrock 100 - The Moose Man Cometh<br />
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OK, buckle in boys and girls. You know how verbose I get, and with 2 weeks and 44 plus hours of racing to recap, you are in for a long read. Got a cold drink and a no-doz? Good, here we go . . .</div>
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As most of you know, my quest for Hardrock had been ongoing, and I had run a Hardrock qualifier and entered every lottery since 2006 trying to get in. So here I was on a Sunday in December San Diego, tailgating before a Chargers game as is my wont, talking about the Stone Vertical Epic party we had hosted the night before, when suddenly I got a tap on my shoulder from Erica. She pointed at her Iphone. The Tweet of Death!</div>
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<img id="_x0000_i1025" src="https://si0.twimg.com/profile_images/2419623856/5pnd61mlmf4lspptaudc_normal.gif" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; height: 48px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 4px; width: 48px;" /><o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Hardrock Hundred (<a href="https://twitter.com/hardrock100" style="color: #99aadd; text-decoration: none;">@hardrock100</a>)</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://twitter.com/hardrock100/status/280388520902811648" style="color: #99aadd; text-decoration: none;">12/16/12, 11:06 AM</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://search.twitter.com/search?q=#hr100lottery" style="color: #99aadd; text-decoration: none;">#hr100lottery</a> Welcome to Buddy Teaster, Ken Legg, BJ Haeck... two left</div>
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I was in Hardrock. Yeah! I mean Crap! I mean . . . Getting into Hardrock is a very conflicting feeling. You are jubilant at your chance at immortality. Yet you know it is going to hurt. A lot. Or at least for someone like myself who is not a particularly talented runner but who gets buy on being a stubborn SOB it is going to hurt a lot. But there is no way you say no, so I got my ultra service form in and it was a go!</div>
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First step: Plan. Hardrock takes place in the San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado and has over 33,000 feet of climbing. The average altitude of the race is over 11,000 feet. I would be going over or close to 13,000 feet 9 times. The trail has lots of cross-country requiring basic navigation and is run in all kinds of weather, extreme or otherwise. So, you don't go into this without a plan. Mine was pretty simple at its core.</div>
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1. Train for the course. This meant bye bye to any flat running for the most part. There are very few flat parts of Hardrock, even fewer than most 100's. Instead a Hardrock runner "enjoys" lots of long climbs and descents. So, this meant training up for those. Beginning in January, I did mountain repeats for my long weekend runs, starting first in Oriflamme Canyon, on the High Point Trail on Palomar Mountain and the Holy Jim Trail in Orange County. These are long rocky 6 to 7 mile climbs at 600 to 700 ft/mile average, so close to what I would find at Hardrock. I augmented those with my usual Mission Trails runs on Kway Paay, Cowles Mtn. and Mt. Fortuna which were while shorter were steeper and, linked together, helped present a different challenge. As the weather warmed, I moved up in elevation, making sure I was elevation trained as well. So my mountain repeats switched to the Marion Mountain trail on Mt. San Jacinto and places like Mt. Whitney, trying to make sure that from April to July, I was getting over 10,000 feet just about every weekend to go with my 6 to 7 mile climbs. I also was making sure my minimum long run, with few exceptions, topped 8 hours to give me the mileage I was looking for.</div>
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Hardrock is also known as a wet course, so before every run, I soaked my feet in any water I could find. I purposely splashed through creeks and charged through puddles. I tried to find challenging snow banks in the winter and tried out Yak Traks and microspikes. I learned to run with a walking pole, and now I won't leave home for a mountainous ultra without it. Its like my Gandalf's staff, or, closer to my Gaffi Stick. And if you know what that is, God help you because you are as much of a nerd as I am. Lets just say that I had too much fun raising my pole over my held and letting loose a Tusken Raider victory cry at many a hilltop throughout Southern California.</div>
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2. Prepare for the course. Hardrock is, shall we say, conservative in their course marking philosophy. You are expected to be able to navigate the course without the aid of a single course marking. Hmm. So, I immediately found a description of the counter-clockwise description of the course (the course switches directions every year), purchased the recommended map as well as a few others and plotted the course, and then looked at every photograph and race report I could get my hands on while tracing the course to try to picture the challenges as best I could. The goal was to try to visualize as much of the course as humanly possible so I had an idea of where I would be heading and the big landmarks I should look for. In that regard, I would like to mention and specially thank Blake Wood for his photographic essays. While Blake would be several hours ahead of me on the course, his voluminous and beautiful picture collection from various years allowed me to mentally capture the course pefectly in my mind. I also want to especially thank Bob Crowley, Rich DeSimone, Ryan Martin, and Marcy Beard for reports that I found particularly helpful, although I stole little tips and bits from every report I read and every one of the recounts of the runners' adventures was a piece of the puzzle.</div>
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I also decided that I wanted to have a GPS with me just in case, figuring it would be easier than a map if I wandered off and would also help me scouting the course (more to come on that). Turns out Bob Crowley had all of the waypoints ready to download. It was a bit of a hunt for his e-mail, but once I found him, Bob sent the file off immediately, and it was a huge load off my mind and on my GPS. He also sent me all kinds of good advice and suggestions and even invited me to his place for American River 50 never having even met me. One of the real good guys in the sport, and that's saying something. Thanks again, Bob! I also was fortunate to have 5 time finsher Scotty Mills in town in San Diego and in my corner, and I picked his brain for tips and info. He had lots of good ideas, many of which I incorporated into the plan.</div>
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3. Prepare for the race. I needed to get my mind and body in shape for a race that was going to go for almost 2 full days, at least for me. First, that meant lose weight, as I was going to have to haul whatever weight I had over 13 mountain passes. So, starting with the Super Bowl, no beer, no soda, no sweets with the goal of hitting 195. Given that I was between 210 and 215, that meant some work. I set aside two cheat days over 6 months (I mean, who roasts a pig without a beer?) but other than that, nose to the grindstone. (My weight on race day was allegedly 193, so I was happy with those results) I needed to choose my clothes, my food, and my equipment to match the challnege in front of me. So I experimented with lots of different nutrition, clothing combinations, equipment tweaks, etc. to find what was most comfortable and gave me the most flexibility with the least amount of weight.</div>
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And I needed to be acclimated to the altitude. So, at the suggestions of others that I had read, I decided to be a full participant in Camp Hardrock. Essentially, folks come in about 2 weeks before the race and mark the course and generally hang out afterwards, acclimating to the altitude and the attitude of the San Juan Mountains. Work was super generous about allowing me to work remotely, and I found a cabin to stay in that was about 1500 feet above Silverton, but right off the main road to allow for easy access to the town, so I was pretty much all set.</div>
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Camp Hardrock</div>
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I arrived on Saturday, June 29, almost 2 weeks before the race, having run the gauntlet of Indian trinket sellers and monsoon thunderstorms that litter the southwest. I immediately drove the FJ up and over Cinammon Pass, which is a "road" that goes up and over a particularly treacherous part of the San Juan Mountains and down to the trailhead for Handies Peak. So, a day after being San Diego, up I went to the highest point in the course, topping at a little over 14,000 feet above sea level. I was cruising along OK, approaching the summit plateau, when here came a big thunderstorm. For those who haven't had the good fortune to experience one of these mountain monsoon thunderstorms, I was in 40 MPH winds with thunder echoing from ridge to ridge. Hail was flying down, and with the wind propelling it, it felt like someone was standing 5 feet away throwing unpopped popcorn at me as hard as they could. It stung my face and legs and anything else exposed. Well, I thought, welcome to Hardrock, and promptly retreated back down the mountain to the car. OK, I thought, the rain jacket worked, and I've had my experience. The rest of the camp should go well.</div>
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As I drove back to the cabin I noticed that I wasn't particularly hungry even though I should be. Uh oh. By that night, I was losing stuff out of every orafice. Double uh oh. I still felt lousy the next day, but decided to go out anyways because I only had so much time and convinced myself that I had to get this scouting done. So I tried to do Engineer Pass, but within a few miles I was sitting morose by the side of the road. Fortunately, Andrew Barney came by and bailed me out on his way back down from driving to the top of Engineer Pass and gave me a lift back to my car. I drove home and checked my temperature. 103. Triple uh oh. Time for bed. I suffered a crisis of confidence and wondered if I wasn't in over my head after all. <br />
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Most of the talk around this time was of the fires down by Durango. The Pole Creek portion of the course was closed to all travel, and there was scuttlebutt of the race being cancelled or altered. After reading the fire reports and looking at the maps, I felt confident that things were going to go but it added an edge of uncertainty. But pretty soon we got news that the race was a definite go! Thanks to all the Hardrock board and everyone involved with the BLM and other agencies for making it happen. Hardrock has a fantastic relationship with the land managers in the area, and you can tell that it pays dividends. </div>
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After 16 hours of sleep and 2 days off spent working, I felt much better and accompanied the course marking crew on their second day up, this time to Grant Swamp pass. I was incredibly nervous and my confidence was shaken from my first 2 days. But I had a strong day, staying in the front of the pack all day. And I immediately formed a bond with several of the people in the group who would get to know each other over the next week or so. Insert shout out here to Rich DeSimeone, Buddy Teaster, Robert King, Kuni Yamagata, Bob Crowley, Steve Peterson, Tom Simonds, Flora Krivak-Tetley, Kevin Martin, Andrew Barney, Tetsuro Ogata, and the rest of the marking crew as we labored up and over one pass or another throughout the rest of the week, slowly learning about the course and each other, acclimating to the altitude and trails, learning the proper ways to scramble up Grant Swamp Pass, Virginius Pass, and any other pass that was in front of us. Every day we were ably lead by several Hardrock veterans who were knowedgeable and generous with their knowledge, but I always seemed to end up with Steve and Deb Pero who were especially kind to me and shared all kinds of information as we trapsed through the Rockies. At one point going up Handies, this time without a storm, Steve cranked up the tempo to the top. I managed to stay with him, although just. When we got to the top, he turned to me, and in his thick NE accent, said, "BJ, you ahh going to kick ahss ahn this race." It was a huge confidence boost for someone who wasn't sure if he even belonged out there, so Steve, thanks for the good words. They meant a lot. And all of the veterans like Steve were there to share good thoughts and information if you closed your mouth and opened your ears. Mark and Margaret Heaphy gave me the lowdown of how things worked around Silverton as we sat outside the Silverton Grocery on my first day in town. I got great tips from multiple finsiher Scott Brockmeier who finished more 100's last year than I will start in my lifetime as we drove up and over Cinammon Pass to Handies. Unsolicited, Howie Stern, a now 5 time finisher, came up to me in a cafe and shared info and told me to be sure to savor every step from Putnam knowing that from that point forward, I was going to be a Hardrocker. As I scouted the Putnam climb on my own on the Monday before the race, I ran into Tyler Curiel, a double digit finisher, who invited me over to share his camp with him and his friends and family where we sat in the alpine sun and cool grass and talked about common friends and racing. I just tried to soak it all in without getting overwhelmed, and enjoyed the company of all these great runners. And using what they told me, I finished the thoughts on my plans. For me, the plan was to go out on the harder side of things. I am a runner who goes by confidence, and if I can boost my confidence, I am going to run better, plain and simple. If I am chasing cut offs, I get down and start doing poorly. So I wanted to get some time in the bank and was willing to die some at the end if I could be confident early. We would see how that would work out.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flora leading a marking crew up the final pitch to the base of Grant Swamp. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert King, Buddy Teaster and others headed up Grant Swamp. This was a little sketchy during marking because with so many people on the climb, rocks were coming down all over the place. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kuni Yamagata leading a group to the final summit on Grant Swamp!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deb Pero kicking butt on the chute of Grant Swamp. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steve Pero snacking on something horribly healthy and good for you on the top of Handies. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yours truly on top of Handies during marking. Unlike Steve, I enjoyed a sandwich made up of processed lunch meat and Cheetos. Next time I would be up here, I would be dodging lightning bolts and getting my iphone ruined in a torrential downpour despite the phone being in a ziploc bag and a waterproof pocket. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rich DeSimione taking a break while steve Pero puts in a flag to mark the turn off of the main trail and up to Grouse. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andrew Barney flying Old Glory. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tetsuro Ogata going up Grouse. He's doing Tahoe Rim Trail 100 in like 2 weeks or something ridiculous like that. He is a huge NBA fan, had a SMOOOOOTH jump shot, and knows his ball (and has calves the size of melons - unbelievable). </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kuni Yamagata leading the group up the final pitch before descending into Grouse. I was waiting in a snow ambush here. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down into Grouse Gulch from the top of the ridge. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The flowers this year were spectacular. Too bad my phone crapped or I would have had more flower photos. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steve Pero showing his good side. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Soon Rich, Tom Simonds and others were jumping right in. Nuts. I had no interest in sticking my legs in a glacier. Although I was the only one skipping, so I guess I'm the one who was nuts. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kevin, Rich, me, Bob, and an unknown (sorry) on top of Oscar's (almost) during marking.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kevin Martin and myself on the climb out of Telluride</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bob Crowley and Kevin Martin </td></tr>
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It was also fun to see lots of elite runners on the trails. I kept running into Joe Grant all around the trails, and he always had time for a friendly hello, even if he was saddled with a film crew most of the time. Neat to see him and Anton cruising the Telluride trails one afternoon. And I ran into eventual winner Seb Chaigneau coming down Handies as he was running up from Grouse with fellow Frechman Jean Francois Geiss. Couldn't have met a couple of nicer guys. Seb would end up winning in a counter clockwise course record. When we were talking to him, he said he was just here to enjoy the mountains. He has a funny way of enjoying! Great job, Seb!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xly9nkT7TIk/Ueyo-Rvoy7I/AAAAAAAABNs/upo8zD7BGbc/s1600/hardrock++marking+046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xly9nkT7TIk/Ueyo-Rvoy7I/AAAAAAAABNs/upo8zD7BGbc/s400/hardrock++marking+046.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Hanging back from the group, I ran into eventual champion Sebastian Chaigneau(left) and five time finisher Jean Francois Geiss, both from France. Seb is a true Hardrocker who couldn't have been more friendly before laying out his will on the course. Chapeau, Sebastian! It was a pleasure meeting you and Francois.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joe Grant and Anton Krupicka out for a stroll on the way down from Oscar's Pass. They passed us going up effortlessly, or at least they were good at making it seem that way. </td></tr>
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But of all the wonderful runners I ran into during the 2 weeks, my funniest encounter occurred on the Monday before the race as I scouted the Putnam climb on my own. After spending time with Tyler as discussed above, I was working my way back down through the trees and saw a group of people sitting on a log. I said hi as I passed and scared the heck out of this poor lady who jumped off her log and almost started sprinting down the hill. As it turns out, it was 3 folks from Germany, a guy, and 2 gals. The guy was a Hardrocker named Wolfgang who was not in the race this year, but taking the gals on a tour of the course piece by piece. Turns out they were surprised earlier by a moose as they ran the section between Chapman and Mineral Creek and the one gal thought I was the moose coming after them. So much for having lost weight! We shared a good laugh, and I headed back to my car.</div>
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As the formal marking ended, it was time to think about racing. Erica got into town the Monday before the race, my pacer, Brian Gonzalez, got into town the next day. Erica's family then got there a little early that Wednesday, so that soon, the whole gang was here. My friends Sean and Audrey were going to help crew as well, and they were going to be arriving that Friday during the race, so slowly my team was coming together. We spent the evenings looking for animals and saw deer, moose, porcupine, marmots, pica, snowshoe hare, and elk. Of course, it wouldn't be an ultra without a BJ wildlife story. On the way to the third day of course marking in Telluride the week before, I rode to the trailhead with Bob Crowley and Kevin Martin. As we went up Red Mountain Pass, here comes a deer at full speed down the hill. Bob starts to pull over and the deer just keeps coming and coming. Finally, as she reaches the hood, she does her best Bo and Luke Duke imitation, jumps up, slides over the hood of the car, lands on the other side, gets up and runs down the hill. Neither she nor the car suffered a scratch. Yeeeeee Hawwww, I guess.</div>
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More and more runners were arriving in town, getting ready for the race. On that Tuesday Buddy and I scouted the approach to Ouray which was supposed to be tricky, and sure enough, missed a turn. That's why you scout. I also got to spend some time with Buddy's lovely wife as she generously drove us all over Colorado trying to scout as much of the course as we could. Then there was a long course briefing the next day, which was done with a clockwise version of the course so was as confusing as anything, unfortunately, and an ice cream social with the Hardrock board which discussed the future of the race. I had a medical check, got my swag, went to the runner briefing, where who did I run into but Wolfgang?! I went up to him, and it dawned on him who I was. He pumped my hand and turned to the women and said "Das is Moose Man!!!" Their eyes opened wide. "Ahhh, Das Moose Man!" They came over and shook my hand and wished me luck in the race. Then Wolfgang grabbed my hand, looked me dead in the eye, and said "I don't run this year. This year YOU run for ME!" He squeezed my hand for emphasis and kept staring deep into my eyes. Well then, I guess I'm running for Wolfgang as well. With that in mind, I went back to the cabin for a dinner of hamburgers, hot dogs, corn and mac and cheese.</div>
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Ok, we get it. Camp Hardrock is awesome fun and you made buddies. Did you actually race this thing or what? Ah, good point. On to the nitty gritty . . .</div>
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Pre-Race</div>
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Most races I'm incredibly nervous and tense. Not for Hardrock for some reason. I was way more excited then nervous. 6 years of waiting, and it was a go! I had slept pretty well, and after a quick shower, and a lot of body glide placed in copious amounts in every conceivable place (and some non-conceivable ones) I donned the uniform:</div>
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REI cargo shorts</div>
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Nike Combat compression shorts</div>
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2XU calf sleeves</div>
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Injini toe socks (the only product I'll say anything about, which is that I have yet to get a blister in any 100 wearing these things. They work GREAT for me. Highly recommended).</div>
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La Sportiva Wildcats</div>
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Under Armor wicking shirt</div>
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Arctyrx rain shell with beanie and water proof gloves in pockets, tied around the waist</div>
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Nathan pack filled with 3 water bottles, Nuun, Kool-aid squirt bottle, bandana, ultra aspire cup clipped by caribeener, 4 ipod shuffles with music and books, iphone, Gu roctaine, 2 knee straps, wet ones, gold bond ointment, gps unit, and map</div>
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walking stick</div>
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sunglasses</div>
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A quick breakfast of oatmeal, banana, and breakfast bread, and it was out the door to drive to Silverton to check in. Milling around before the race, I found most of my friends from marking and got pictures. Wolfgang and friends were there, and I put hands up like antlers on either side of my head. "Ya Moose Man!" It was great. I was buzzing with energy, excited and not nervous. Lets do this! AKJ in the house! (that's Ass-Kicker Jones for those who aren't familiar with my pseudonym). The anthem was sung beautifully by Buddy's daughter (Taylor, I think). A quick hug with Erica where I let all my nervousness come up and with a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the head from her, it was gone. Business. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting ready to start</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breaking in my two newest crew members, Matty and Ryan</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bob Crowley and I getting ready to kick butt and take names</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With Kuni and Rich, getting ready to start. Kuni is pointing to the dork in the group. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With Buddy right before the gun. Why am I like 10 times bigger than everyone who does this sport? WTF?</td></tr>
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Start to Sherman (mile 29)</div>
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We were off. This is a long section to sum up, but it really was pretty basic. I started in the back pumping up anyone I could get my hands on (sorry Buddy, Kuni and others) and eventually slipping into a place alongside Tom and Rich, so it felt just like marking all over again. We cruised along some pretty single track through the woods and eventually dumped out on a long road climb. There, clumps and clusters started to form as the climbing kicked up a notch. I passed some time with Alan Smith and Chris Gerber from Colorado talking about various trails and races. Alan is attempting (for the second year in a row) the Rocky Mountain slam which is Hardrock, Leadville, Wasatch, and Bear. Everytime you think you are a hardass . . .</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And we are off . . . Kind of back around that corner.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here I go blurrily around the corner. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buddy and I sauntering out for what would be a long couple of days. </td></tr>
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Anyways, while the climb gets steep on the single track, it was pretty steady as opposed to brutal, and the clouds still filled the valley below us as we traversed over to the downhill. Down we went through the switchbacks flying. You could see the aid station way below, but it took a long time to get there. I passed the time with Flora learning about Hawaii and soon enough bottomed out and there was my crew! Erica, her mom, Barbara, and her nephew and niece, Matthew and Ryan, got me everything I needed, and then Barbara and the kids walked me out of the station to the bottom of the next climb. As would happen in nearly every station, I passed Buddy's family who gave me a huge cheer as if I was their own. Thanks again, guys! I really appreciated it. As I asceneded steeply, I could hear Matty and Ryan yelling "Go BJ!" Talk about a spirit lifter, having two kids under 9 screaming for you at the top of your lungs will do it. Everytime they yelled, I lifted my Gaffi Stick and yelled "BANZAI!" which prompted them to yell back. This went on for way too long for the people around me for sure. Soon, I settled into a group that consisted of Hans Dieter, Bob Crowley, Scott Brockmeier, Liz Bauer, and a few others, with Scott generally setting the tempo. This was perfect for me as I am a caboose kind of guy and settled into the tail of this strong grouping for a while until we crested the climb, which took forever. For those reading this as a scouting trip, do not underestimate this climb. It is steep and long and then steep again. If you can survive the first 1/2 hour steep push, you get a break that lets you regroup, and once you get over the top of Green Mountain, which has a sting in its tail so don't think you are done until you actually start going downhill, its the end of the worst of the steep climbing until Handies, so you have lots of time to recover.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coming down into Cunningham</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barb, Matty, and Ryan escorting me out of the Cunningham Aid Station</td></tr>
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Finally getting over Green Mountain, we came down through Stony Pass, where the group I had been traveling with gradually broke up and I found myself on my own. I heard all of this buzzing in the air, and I had not even put my earphones in yet. I couldn't figure out what it was. Then over to my left I saw a HUGE flock of sheep on the ridgeline opposite where we were. Ahhh. Or should I say Bahhhh. Lots of bahhhh. They had warned us not to get between the sheep and sheepdogs or you would be sorry. Duly noted. I yelled out to no one in particular to amuse myself "DON'T CUT THE FLOCK!" as I continued up around Marcus Camby mountain and reached Hardrocker Point, the second highest point on the course. As we descended Alan Smith came charging past me and continued on the ridgeline, missing the turn down to Maggie's aid station. I yelled at him, but he couldn't hear me in the wind and continued on. Having seen him descend, I knew I couldn't catch him, so I let him go figuring he'd turn around soon enough and headed down cross-country to Maggies (Alan did indeed pass me somewhere on the next section, and after yo-yoing with me all race, passed me for the last time on the way out of Putnam some 85 miles later). After a quick stop, I climbed out of the Gulch steeply, but quickly, and as I hit the top of the climb in the late morning, I heard the first rumble of thunder behind me. I then ran down into the Pole Creek section, mixing running and hiking, but hiking when in doubt, trying to be very conservative. Soon, I was through Pole Creek aid and on my way up to the continental divide. This whole section is essentially above treeline and at high altitude, so it can be very exposed. Had I not ruined my iPhone, you would have seen a lot of flowers, rolling meadows, etc. I was fortunate in that it was pretty cloudy, so it was as comfortable as could be expected. As I climbed up to the continental divide, the clouds behind me darkened and the thunder continued to rumble. Uh oh. The climb out of Pole Creek goes on and on and on, never steep, but always wandering so that you aren't sure where you are even trying to get to. It takes forever. Finally, topping out at the Continental Divide lake, I was caught by Chris Gerber who is a fast runner who is recovering from back problems. He said he was a lightning attractant, and of course me being Mr. Wildlife, I thought we would be in for a fun couple of miles. While I was expecting weasels to come raining out of the sky or something given our proximity to one another, it was a rather benign few miles. He has tons of experience on the course and was sharing all kinds of great stories and information. We both were grateful that the storm seemed to dissipate without more than a spritz of rain. Chris had warned me that, contrary to my thoughts, the downhill on the Cataract Falls trail was not runnable for a while. I had read that this was "bomber downhill." Not so much, or at least not for several miles. It was rocky, super steep in parts and, because of the rain sprinkles, slick. Only the last couple of miles was good runnable stuff, but that was really fun. Finally we dumped into Sherman around 3 PM or so.</div>
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Sherman (mile 29) to Grouse (mile 42)</div>
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Sherman was a great aid station. They have long tables laid out where you can dump and sort your stuff, and you get an individual handler who gets you whatever you need. I put down some pudding, some jello, some coke on ice, and not much else. I laughed watching Liz inhale a giant bowl of pasta. Liz, you are going to Nathan's on Fourth of July one year to give Kobiyashi a run for his money. Nice work! Heading out onto the road, there was a quick climb to the main dirt road to Handies, and we quickly formed an echelon of Liz, Scott, myself, and Yuki Negoro (Yuki would finish this section about when I did, but waited for his wife for 4 hours in a tent at Grouse while his wife waited 4 hours in the car! ARGH! Yuki still managed a finish, so good on him.) We spent the next hour fast hiking the road, saving our legs for the Handies climb to 14,000 feet, swapping stories and enjoying the afternoon. While some chose to run this section, we stayed close by hiking a good clip and, in the end, finished in front of those who chose to run this section. I was glad for the conservative choice, and this was one of my favorite parts of the whole race talking with Liz and Scott. Scott commented how lucky we were to miss the storms. I hate to say you jinxed us Scott, but . . .<br />
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As we hit Handies, I knew I didn't have the legs to stay with that grouping without really stretching things, so I let them go, but kept them in my eye in the distance. Handies starts steep in the trees, then ameloriates for a while, and then just gets sick once you start making straight for the ridge. I climbed for a while with Hans Dieter. I passed Chris Twiggs who looked like a dead marmot on a rock. (Chris would later come back to pass me outside Telluride and finish 4 hours faster than me. Not bad for a Nole. Guess he really is a second day guy . . . ). Lots of people switched places back and forth on this climb as it got steeper and steeper and people would take breaks and then come back strong. As I approached the summit plateau, at maybe 13,500 feet, a storm blew in and started howling, just like it had on my first day in the San Juans, but harder. So much for dodging the storms. The rain was freezing, and soon the hail was coming down and covered the ground in a sheet of icy ball bearings. Lightning flashed, and I could not count to one before I heard the thunder. I was way above treeline and even rock-line if there is such a thing. I was only a few hundred feet of climbing, if that, from the summit and from what I could tell was tallest thing in miles. Do I hunker down on this rock I'm on? Do the sprint and try to make myself short? I glanced back at Steve Pero who was powering up towards me, a new urgency in his step. Well, there you go then. Of course, Steve knew he was shorter than me, so he knew there was at least 1 taller thing in the basin as far as he was concerned. I ran the last 200 vertical feet up the summit, over the ridge, and down the other side into American Basin as fast as I could, which wasn't saying much. The ground around me was slick and white with a couple inches of hail as I slid down the backside of Handies, lightning still lighting up the early evening, thunder echoing from the ridges, cracking off the rocks. I had my jacket on, but didn't want to take time to get my gloves on so just kept pushing and pushing to get below Sloan Lake as I was freezing and my hands were numb. Ahead of me, runners were springing downwards to get off the ridge and continuing to plunge into the American Basin. I slowed up as I caught Hans Dieter and as Steve Pero pushed past. I was pretty sure we were in good shape now, and didn't want to ruin my legs too early. So I followed Hans up over the second ridge, then, getting cold, took off using my downhill legs down to Grouse Gulch.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The final summit ridge of Handies after the steep climbing was done on a much nicer day than the one I experienced. The following pictures were all taken during marking on July 4 and are included just to give you an idea of what this section looks like. The climb after Handies to get to Grouse Gulch is not to be underestimated.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Sloan Lake from the summit. The trail goes to the lip of Sloan Lake, then sharply down before a subtle turn up over the ridge to Grouse. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jniLayK-H5Q/UeynsNjBCDI/AAAAAAAABMk/3Ilvis_fbLw/s1600/hardrock++marking+029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jniLayK-H5Q/UeynsNjBCDI/AAAAAAAABMk/3Ilvis_fbLw/s400/hardrock++marking+029.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Just below Sloan Lake on marking day behind Andrew Barney. Just past here, you have to make a left to go over the ridge at left center. Staying on the trail brings you back to Cinnamon Pass Road and would make you very unhappy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Handies from the Grouse trail on a much better day than I was enjoying. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--q7nBwihDs0/UeysaHmVmkI/AAAAAAAABRU/PqTn4q7Cvcw/s1600/Photo+Jul+12,+9+38+28+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--q7nBwihDs0/UeysaHmVmkI/AAAAAAAABRU/PqTn4q7Cvcw/s400/Photo+Jul+12,+9+38+28+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crack crew member Audrey stares in exactly the wrong place waiting for me to come down the trail. I came down the switchbacks above into Grouse Gulch. . . </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gonzo and Erica waiting for me to come down the trail. Erica was wearing good advice. Especially the first part. Despite pleading, Erica refused to wear her "I don't do ultramarathons, but I do an ultramarathoner." shirt. That was 6 bucks down the drain . . . </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My awesome, if soggy, Grouse Gulch crew - Audrey, Sean, Erica, and Gonzo. Barb was at home with a grumpy but considerably less soggy Matty and Ryan. </td></tr>
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I needed some redo at Grouse as I was soaked through. I went into the aid station and didn't see my folks. Just then I was seriously grappled from behind. It was Sean who led me to the car where Audrey, Gonzo, and Erica were waiting. Gonzo took control, making sure I had what I needed and getting the crew working like clockwork. I hadn't drank much as my bottle was in my pack under my rain jacket, so I tried to get as much water down as possible. Soon, I was in a new shirt, my jacket was dried, I had warm food down my gullet, and I had new things I needed. One tip I had gotten in preparation for Hardrock was to write down everything I needed to do at every aid station and put it in my drop bag so when my brain was frozen, I had a checklist to run through. Done and done. Darkness had finally fallen (it was a little after 9 when I arrived), so it was flashlight time. Out I went for a long road climb to Engineer. I needed the climb to warm up and get the blood flowing. 10 minutes out of the aid station, my batteries in my light, which I had put in fresh the night before, died. Argh. Stupid batteries - I had just bought them. So with freezing hands, it took me 5 to 10 minutes to change the batteries (and use up my spares, although I had a spare headlamp as well just in case), and then I had to start to get warmed up again. This part of the course was non-descript, just a gradual climb on a road, but as I read somewhere in some Hardrock report, if there is one thing I can do, it is walk up a road. I put on World War Z on the Shuffle and headed up. After a few hours, I got to where I thought I was supposed to be going, but there were headlamps all over the place. There was no one ahead of me, and I had passed a bunch of lights which I didn't see behind me. Hmmm. Eventually, here came a light and I worked my way back. It was Steve Pero again. He assured me we were headed the right way, so forward I went, trusting his judgment. After a few tense minutes, I saw a bike light blinking in the distance. A ha! Of the road and down a steep cross-country slope. I made pretty good time down to the Engineer Aid Station, but it was really slick from all the rain. Lots of loose mud, wet grass, and slick rocks. I had a quick stop at Engineer, and then headed out again. From Engineer to Ouray was about 8 miles, and it was a long haul down. I got passed by Flora, but other than that, I didn't see anyone. I know the edge of the trail here shoots off some thousand feet to the bottom of the cliff, but because it was dark, I never even really noticed. I made pretty good time, "running" almost the entire way. I was pretty fatigued by this point and not thinking particularly clearly, but tried to concentrate as I knew I had a long easier stretch up ahead in the form of another road climb, and I wanted to make time while I could before my legs gave out, which I knew was going to happen sometime in the next 10 to 20 miles. Eventually I navigated the tricky entry into Ouray, found the road and headed into the aid station where I was going to meet Sean and Audrey.</div>
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Ouray (mile 57) to Telluride (mile 72)</div>
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In I came to the aid station. Hello? Hello? Hmm, I was expecting my crew but no one there, so grabbed my drop bag and had a seat. This is why you have to be self sufficient at ultras. You never know what can happen to your crew. What if they get stuck behind an accident? Or can't find the aid station? You have to treat crew like a bonus. Turns out in this case, I had beat the time Brian had given them as my earliest possible arrival, so they weren't there when I got there a little before 3 AM. As I sat there, Audrey came running up in a panic, as the clock struck 3, and she found me just packing up. But seeing them, I took advantage and took a 5 minute nap as I was beginning to feel the fatigue. I was way on the pointy end of my schedule where I wanted to be, so wanted to make sure I stayed fresh. Up after 5 minutes, Sean and Audrey walked me out and up the road to the start of the trail, where I ventured out on my own. It was nice to have their company after so many hours of silence. I was climbing great and felt awake and passed several people in here. Its just a long flattish climb, and the sun came up halfway up to help wake me up. It was just important to stay focused as it was easy to drift if you let your mind wander, which meant the pace slowed. Along the climb, I swapped places again with several people I had seen during the day including Liz, Scott, and Flora as well as a few others. I continued strong through the Governor Basin aid station and up to the base of the Virginius climb. But I hit a problem. First, I had to hit the bushes for nature's call. As I was there, I realized from being wet that the, well, undercarriage and other goods had been pretty badly damaged by chafing. As in raw to the point of bleeding. Oops. I knew I was uncomfortable, but did not realize how bad it had gotten. That probably would not bode well for the future, and I needed to take care of things. So I hid around a corner as best I could, cleaning, applying glide and ointment, etc. In all probably another 15 minutes down the tubes as lots of folks I had passed got me back in my embarassing state, many of whom waived hello as they passed. Ultrarunning quickly cures you of any shyness . . . But with things patched up, it was up Virginius. There are three pitches to Virginius. The first is a steep rock pile, and while most prefer the right hand scree side, I had found, in the complete absence of snow, the left side was like a staircase and made for an easier climb. The second pitch was up some loose rock that had been solidified by the rain, rendering it more climbable. Finally, usually there is a rope to the last pitch, but not this year with no snow, so I followed everyone's tracks up an impromptu trail on the right side of the pass to Kroger's Kanteen. This is where Scotty Mills was waiting, and he filled me with warm broth and good words and sent me down the other side. Overall, the climb to Virginius is legendarily difficult, but I think the lack of snow and the damp soil took some of the sting out of the scorpion. Its not like you ran up or anything, but it wasn't nearly as difficult as I had picutred having seen it in pictures and done it in training.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Since my phone died, all of these pictures are from course marking. This is the view from Governor's Basin aid crossing the creek. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fred Ecks on marking day. This is a good image of the approach to the bottom of Virginius. Steady but not steep. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down at old mine buildings almost at the end of the approach to Virginius. I saw a bear in here on race day. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The final road to the top. The climb starts just to the right. Buddy Teaster and Bob Crowley on marking day with Mike Burke and Steve Peterson just up the road. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the first pitch of 3 on Virginius. Mike Burke is on the climb. The right was loose scree. The middle was big rocks and was climbable like a staircase. I went up the scree during marking, the middle during the race. I preferred the middle. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On top of the first pitch. The second pitch is the hill right in front. The ultimate goal can be seen for the first time here at the top center, just to the left of the spire. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zoomed in on the goal. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buddy Teaster during marking on top of the second pitch. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The final pitch. You can see someone on top just to the right of the spire. Because the snow had melted, there was a switchback trail that revealed itself on the right side. No rope this year. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buddy finishing off the climb during marking. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unfortunately no pictures during the race of the world's highest aid station. Was so impressed by Roch and Scotty Mills and volunteers keeping this aid station together. Thanks again guys!</td></tr>
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In any case, the downhill after Kroger's started treacherously enough, but after cresting Mendota Ridge, it became very runnable in my opinion. I made decent time running through the trees into Telluride, passing a few folks back. although as it got hotter as I got lower, I started to slow down. I had put on a long sleeved shirt back at Grouse, and that was getting warm now that it was almost 10 AM and I was headed below 10,000 feet again. I pulled into Telluride, and every random person on the street was saying "Welcome to Telluride!" It was pretty nice but slightly disconcerting to be in civilization again with cars to dodge and bikes to avoid. Into the park, and there were my whole crew, including Gonzo who would take over as my pacer.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A slightly drier version of the world's greatest crew in Telluride. I saw Audrey and Sean in Ouray around 3 AM the morning before, but they were up and raring to go for Telluride, if slightly more punctual. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Being a crew involves a lot of waiting. What a great group I had. Gonzo is chilling, and you can see my cooler and bag laid out and ready to go for my arrival. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lBrnmJUusnI/UeytJYm6vEI/AAAAAAAABSE/QsUlDL3xEYU/s1600/Photo+Jul+13,+11+40+35+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lBrnmJUusnI/UeytJYm6vEI/AAAAAAAABSE/QsUlDL3xEYU/s400/Photo+Jul+13,+11+40+35+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The full team was waiting for me in Telluride. Besides Audrey and Erica, you can see Ryan and Matty, Erica's niece and nephew, contributing to the effort by catching a bungee cord and throwing a stick into the pond respectively while Barbara Deese supervises. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-do_kfPqR4kA/UeytLldm_PI/AAAAAAAABSM/yNa89LDjoC0/s1600/Photo+Jul+13,+11+44+35+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-do_kfPqR4kA/UeytLldm_PI/AAAAAAAABSM/yNa89LDjoC0/s400/Photo+Jul+13,+11+44+35+AM.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here I finally arrive . . . </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The crew snaps into action. Ryan is busy holding down the chair. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6ZX-ssupW2M/UeytbYju5fI/AAAAAAAABSc/D2x1DrTtszE/s1600/Photo+Jul+13,+11+58+44+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6ZX-ssupW2M/UeytbYju5fI/AAAAAAAABSc/D2x1DrTtszE/s400/Photo+Jul+13,+11+58+44+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm not looking too good here. I'm eating some cold Spaghettio's, one of my secret weapons. Take that all you chia seed eatin' freaks! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x8pj022HoL4/Ue1NYUqGK5I/AAAAAAAABYw/KWcU9rHQdyE/s1600/photo+3-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x8pj022HoL4/Ue1NYUqGK5I/AAAAAAAABYw/KWcU9rHQdyE/s400/photo+3-2.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not exactly leaping out of my chair for the climb up to Oscar's</td></tr>
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Telluride (mile 72) to KT (mile 89)</div>
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With Gonz in tow (or more accurately with me in his tow) we were off up what I thought was going to be the hardest climb of the course. I wasn't far off, in that the climb just kept going and going and going. You see the pictures of Grant Swamp and Viriginius, but both of those are relatively short, if brutal. Rather, its the last half of Handies, Green Mountain, the approach to Grant Swamp, and the climb to Oscars that I found to be absolute beasts because of their length and steepness combined. In any case, the climb out of Telluride to Oscar's Pass was absolutely scattered with wildflowers of every color, as if someone had taken a paintbrush and shook it all over the slopes of the San Juans. The day was warm, and there wasn't much cloud cover, so we toiled upwards past frothy brooks, snow banks, and all of the blues, purples, yellows, and reds one could imagine. I knew from marking this section that the climb was in three parts. We quickly settled into a rhythm of pushing for a few minutes, then a 10 second break. I found that worked better for me than a slow steady push or other methods, so we made it work for us. The second pitch seemed to take forever, but finally we were above treeline and into the final basin. As World War Z wrapped up, we topped the final pitch and a quick traverse over to Oscar's Pass. While the descent from Oscar's Pass would normally be completely runnable, unfortunately the mountain went and threw up rocks all over itself, so it was slow pickings on the way down but I was still running fairly well. As I approached tree line, I suddenly felt very queasy. As I bent over . . . RALPH. Well, now I threw up all over myself as well, so at least the mountain and I had something in common.Unfortunately, that meant I needed to take it easy for a bit until I could recover, so we took it down a notch and eased down into Chapman, which was the last place I would see my crew. Running past the FJ, I couldn't even tell it was mine with the mud covering the license. The FJ had fun.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f7bLhufWUJs/UeykI8IZp_I/AAAAAAAABIQ/O2GG2MhQZzY/s1600/2013-07-13+11.43.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f7bLhufWUJs/UeykI8IZp_I/AAAAAAAABIQ/O2GG2MhQZzY/s400/2013-07-13+11.43.15.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading up the second pitch to Oscar's out of Telluride</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T83X8lVfgLI/UeykKVMDmUI/AAAAAAAABIY/JDPWE3FCa5Y/s1600/2013-07-13+13.24.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T83X8lVfgLI/UeykKVMDmUI/AAAAAAAABIY/JDPWE3FCa5Y/s400/2013-07-13+13.24.23.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No, its not all fun and games is it. Almost to the top of the third pitch to Oscar's. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D6VVRH1d93g/UeykLpnCQBI/AAAAAAAABIg/a6ftJTZ-As0/s1600/2013-07-13+13.24.54+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D6VVRH1d93g/UeykLpnCQBI/AAAAAAAABIg/a6ftJTZ-As0/s400/2013-07-13+13.24.54+(1).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Close . . . </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nPnvDtLxXmg/UeykNcUr87I/AAAAAAAABIo/i6oe_g3Jba0/s1600/2013-07-13+13.30.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nPnvDtLxXmg/UeykNcUr87I/AAAAAAAABIo/i6oe_g3Jba0/s400/2013-07-13+13.30.40.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Made it!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-33BqKmoGOM8/UeykO-GhWhI/AAAAAAAABIw/IT2rwe-A--8/s1600/2013-07-13+13.48.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-33BqKmoGOM8/UeykO-GhWhI/AAAAAAAABIw/IT2rwe-A--8/s400/2013-07-13+13.48.19.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not exactly sprinting down the other side to Chapman</td></tr>
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Erica, her mom, and the kids were waiting at the aid station. I needed to take some time to get some calories in me given my barf o rama, so we had a longer stop than I would have liked, but probably a good move. I ate some runny eggs, some pudding, maybe some applesauce, and some coke. The whole time we were battling an army of flies like something out of the Amityville Horror. Time to go. I had, the way I viewed it, 2 climbs left, and even though my legs were shot, it was doable. I was still way ahead of scheudle and cutoffs, so though I knew I would slow, I also knew that I should finish bar disaster. Of course, this is Hardrock where disaster waits around every turn, so it was important to stay focused. The approach to Grant Swamp is worse than the actual pass, although the pass gets a lot of publicity for good reason. You first climb off the jeep road through a series of really steep "switchbacks" for about a 1/2 mile, then you get a respite, then the 1/2 mile approach is a staircase through sharp rock that just never seems to end. Well for me it didn't. I made it up the switchbacks and still was making decent time, considering (those who have seen my splits would surely disagree). As I hit the last of the trees before the rocky approach, I was wobbling and fuzzy headed. Things were going a little south. So I told Brian I was taking a 5 minute nap and proceeded to fall asleep in the dirt without waiting for a response. No root for a pillow, no soft grass, just right there on the trail. 5 minutes later, and Brian woke me up and I felt much better. We made our push over the approach and hit the scree slope. In the course marking I had gone up the right side of the main slope where there are some faint switchbacks, but the rocks start to shift and can come down. This time, I headed straight for the dirt and scree center. I wasn't going to mess around. I got on all 4's and crawled up the slope, losing a step out of every 3 to the scree, although the rain had given a lot more purchase and made the slope much easier than it had been earlier that week. A big push, and I made the top. I took a few minutes to collect myself and put a rock at Joel's plaque along with a prayer. Joel Zucker died shortly after completing his third Hardrock, and they put a plaque for him at Grant Swamp Pass overlooking Island Lake in maybe the most beautiful place I have ever set foot. He was a dogged ultra runner, kind of a back of the packer like myself as I understand it, and big dog lover, and seeing his plaque both in marking and in the race was maybe my favorite part of the whole experience. Its hard to explain, but to me it summarizes everything I love about this sport, the hard work, the danger, the sacrifice, the cameraderie, the mountains, the beauty, the adventure, and the spirit. Arf, arf buddy. I'm with you.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HCR8mlaS_Go/Ue1NRAdjtUI/AAAAAAAABX8/5Oc_gQ3MhIs/s1600/photo+2-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HCR8mlaS_Go/Ue1NRAdjtUI/AAAAAAAABX8/5Oc_gQ3MhIs/s400/photo+2-2.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"So Gonz, what say we knock off and go have a milkshake . . . " </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YL9gj3MZFu4/UeykSBHQAfI/AAAAAAAABI4/Lh-qbd3mpZY/s1600/2013-07-13+16.04.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="100" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YL9gj3MZFu4/UeykSBHQAfI/AAAAAAAABI4/Lh-qbd3mpZY/s400/2013-07-13+16.04.45.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gonzo getting artsy with the camera on the approach to Grant Swamp. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1_4pbF_-X9c/Ueyk7yL4a3I/AAAAAAAABKM/TaIvD4f0If0/s1600/hardrock++marking+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1_4pbF_-X9c/Ueyk7yL4a3I/AAAAAAAABKM/TaIvD4f0If0/s400/hardrock++marking+001.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Man, that seems like a long way to go. The trail goes over the bench to the right, then up the dirt scar just to the right of center.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2GD0js8Su6Y/UeykT-Y1yYI/AAAAAAAABJA/COHcrEqED5M/s1600/2013-07-13+16.46.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2GD0js8Su6Y/UeykT-Y1yYI/AAAAAAAABJA/COHcrEqED5M/s400/2013-07-13+16.46.25.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting there. One big push to the base of the final pitch to go . . . </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YxDBSPL5Hdg/Ueylg88vZBI/AAAAAAAABKs/naiSRtNRfk4/s1600/hardrock++marking+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YxDBSPL5Hdg/Ueylg88vZBI/AAAAAAAABKs/naiSRtNRfk4/s400/hardrock++marking+004.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking back to Oscar's Pass which you can see in the center of the picture. The Chapman aid station is essentially in the clearing on the other side of the trees to the center left of the picture. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YRGZzgG7q84/Ueyk8iz9uqI/AAAAAAAABKU/Up6ekvyaB-k/s1600/hardrock++marking+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YRGZzgG7q84/Ueyk8iz9uqI/AAAAAAAABKU/Up6ekvyaB-k/s400/hardrock++marking+002.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Close up of Oscar's coming down on the road just to the right of the tree. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RvwRnmKAulY/Ueylz_XulYI/AAAAAAAABK8/AxB1ZLW2fVM/s1600/hardrock++marking+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RvwRnmKAulY/Ueylz_XulYI/AAAAAAAABK8/AxB1ZLW2fVM/s400/hardrock++marking+008.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grant Swamp final pitch finally comes in view. I went up the dirt to the center. Many chose to go up the rocks just to the right of the chute where there was an informal switchbacked path. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W4ryW1lG2eg/UeykVYWWqdI/AAAAAAAABJI/AcHQh0v-kFM/s1600/2013-07-13+17.29.55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W4ryW1lG2eg/UeykVYWWqdI/AAAAAAAABJI/AcHQh0v-kFM/s400/2013-07-13+17.29.55.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And here we go . . . </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-laLAzIj-sMA/UeykXogo_WI/AAAAAAAABJQ/FXRGm-dnA60/s1600/2013-07-13+17.34.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-laLAzIj-sMA/UeykXogo_WI/AAAAAAAABJQ/FXRGm-dnA60/s400/2013-07-13+17.34.22.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Was it this steep during marking? I think Dale sent some engineers to tilt it up a few degrees to make up for the lack of snow on the course this year. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZOHin4YcN3g/UeykZFSJgzI/AAAAAAAABJY/FLq7U3gem4g/s1600/2013-07-13+17.40.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZOHin4YcN3g/UeykZFSJgzI/AAAAAAAABJY/FLq7U3gem4g/s400/2013-07-13+17.40.29.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you look over my butt, you can see all the way down to the aid station. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IMQt8byt3ls/Ue1NOmF6GCI/AAAAAAAABXk/Qqf-2B96shU/s1600/photo+1-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IMQt8byt3ls/Ue1NOmF6GCI/AAAAAAAABXk/Qqf-2B96shU/s400/photo+1-2.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meanwhile, my crack crew hard at work. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Putting my rock by Joel's plaque. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wO034aFmG8o/UeysT171y5I/AAAAAAAABRM/o14Na2L08oo/s1600/photo+(10).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wO034aFmG8o/UeysT171y5I/AAAAAAAABRM/o14Na2L08oo/s400/photo+(10).JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joel's plaque. It really, for me, was very moving to be up here both during marking and during the race. I only wish I could have known Joel. He sounds like he was a hell of a guy. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from Joel's plaque. It could not be any more beautiful. A great way to honor him. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking back to the top of Grant Swamp. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Headed down to KT.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Island Lake from eye level. During course marking, our only female companion decided it was a great place for a skinny dip. Just when you thought the view couldn't get any better . . . </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the Kamm traverse and ready to get some calories. This part was a bit of a struggle as I desperately needed food but was having trouble keeping stuff down. The road below is the Mineral Creek Campground Road that we would cross in about a mile and a half on our way to Putnam. </td></tr>
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Down the other side I was trying to move as well as I could, but I was starting to get sick again so we decided to back off. We didn't want to take any chances with the finish. Not now. The descent was very runnable, but we just fast hiked while Brian regaled me with Mormon rap. Its . . . its not good. I had Frank Zappa going on the ipod, so it was an eclectic mix to say the least. In retrospect, I wish I had given it some more gas through here, but I wasn't thinking clearly. I tried to get some calories down and spit them right back up. I knew I needed some food, and nothing on me was working, so we decided to just cruise into KT aid and regroup. We made the turn onto the trail and straight to the aid station. Let me say for my purposes, I thought the trail throughout the race was extremely clearly marked and easy to follow, but I also had over half the field in front of me trampling down the grass. I did not get off course for more than a few seconds, and even that was in some willows in the Pole Creek area, and I could see where the trail was the whole time. I had a moment of doubt or two, but in general, I did not find navigation a problem. I know at least one runner took a detour trying to climb back up Handies a second time and I saw Alan go off for a few minutes, but I think the navigation issues, at least for a non-snow year like this year, are slightly over-stated (but don't tell Charlie or he'll start pulling more flags). I found the Bear much more difficult to navigate. Be that as it may, we hit the turn, across the stream, and finally made it to KT.</div>
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KT (mile 89) to Finish (mile 100.5)</div>
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By this time it was about 7:30 or so, and the sun was finally starting to go down. There was lightning in the far distance, but it looked like we were going to have a dry second day, which was good because I still was thawing out from the Handies storm on day 1! Lots of things to try to get calories at KT. Pumpkin pie filling? RALPH. No, that didn't work. How about pasta? Pasta, eh? OK. I made it through 2 servings of spicy elbow macaroni with red sauce. Small, but still, my first calories in about 4 hours. OK, the last push. Putnam, like others, is a 3 part climb with a steep pitch in the woods followed by a little flat, then a steady push to a ridge topped with a steep finish, then a traverse across a bowl with a steep final pitch straight up a hillside. I took the lead on the first part, trying to set a decent pace for myself, thinking if I took the lead, I would be able to push myself more. Not so much. I quickly settled into my pattern of 30 seconds to a minute of climbing followed by 10 seconds of rest. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Argh, it was frustrating. I just could not summon any climbing power out of my legs. But the top comes as it always does, and then we moved as fast as we could to part 2. Here's where things started going haywire.</div>
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"Hey Gonz, how in the world did someone drive a truck up in this basin. What a hardass redneck."</div>
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"BJ, that's a rock, there's no truck." 2 minutes pass.</div>
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"Gonz, why is there a guy in a visor there taking down our names at that turn in the trail. Seems like an obvious turn. I don't think they need a monitor out here."</div>
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"BJ, there's no one there. Its a bush."</div>
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"Oh, are you sure?"</div>
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"Do you want to ask the bush how it is doing and see if it answers?"</div>
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"Nah, I'm good."</div>
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At that point, I thought it best to shut up before Brian tried to have me pulled from the race. I saw a set of three old washing machines, a country mailbox with the flag up, and a series of different popcorn machines like in the old theaters. Fortunately, darkness settled in, and all I could see after that was my light and the back of Gonzo's shoes. Up the last steep push that never seemed to end (and to me, as darkness fell, looked like we were climing to the parapet of a castle with giant stone blocks - "Hey Gonz . . . nevermind"). We were now traveling cross-country, and Brian was the ace. I mean THE ace. He had pre run this whole section and entered a waypoint on his wrist GPS for every flag. As others scattered their lights all over looking to catch the next reflector, Gonzo moved confidently from spot to spot, looking at his wrist taking us directly to the next flag, then the next, then the next. As we approached the final climb, Kuni had caught up to us after 40 some hours. He wasn't feeling well and fell right in with us, two ducks following Brian from point to point. Finally the last climb. Gozno shone his light straight up the slope. Oh come on. I had pre run this, but I didn't remember it being this steep. To quote my man Gob "Aw, C'mon!" Again, Brian was the Ace, like he had been since we left Telluride. He focused his headlamp on the marker then shone his handlight on a spot about halfway. "Lets hit that spot and break" and off we would go. I was intently focused on the spot in his light and did not let it out of my sight until I was standing on it, and then Brian would find the next spot and we'd do it again. With this method we made great steady progress up the hill and after a struggle of 6 or 7 flags the hill eased off and we had made it! WE HAD MADE IT! It was not even midnight, and we just had to get down the hill to Silverton. I took out the phone to text Erica that we were about 3 hours out or so, when RALPH. Hardrock had one last slap in the face for me to remind me I wasn't done yet. I was heaving for about 3 or 4 minutes getting rid of what little was in my stomach. OK, I'm good. And off we went down to the last aid station, getting out of the freezing wind up top.</div>
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It seemed to take FOREVER to get to Putnam. I just put my head down and followed Brian, and Kuni just put his head down and followed me, our little train plowing through the night towards the lights of Silverton. In the time it took to get from the ridge to Putnam, I managed to call Kuni the following: Yuni, Kung, King, Yuki, and God knows what else. So sorry Kuni. I do know your name. My brain was absolutely gone. But we hit Putnam, some hot chocolate which seemed to refresh me, and we were off. The aid station captain told us anywhere from 2.5 hours to 3.5 hours. If we did it in 2, we had a shot at sub 44 hours. Gonz set out determined that sub 44 was in site. I was skeptical but went along as he set a brisk pace. As we went down, we were conversing and Kuni mentioned that he wanted us to finish first. I insisted that he finish first because I wanted to finish on my own, but he was super gracious about it, so I called the procession to a brief halt. I asked Brian to pull something out of my pack that was clipped in and wrapped in a ziploc and then a piece of cloth. He looked at it, and then literally fell in the bushes.</div>
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Rewind back to the tailgate where I received the Tweet of Death. You see, I had decided right there in that instant on that fine December morning that when I finished Hardrock, I was going to ask my girlfriend Erica to marry me at the finish line. THAT's why I knew why I would finish no matter what and never quit. That gave me any extra oomph to train hard on those days I just didn't want to drag my butt up another mountain. I kept thinking how awesome it was going to be to propose at the Hardrock. But if I didn't finish, it wasn't going to happen, so I had to go earn it. I had told essentially no one, and the only people who knew about it at the race were Sean and Audrey who came out to crew but also to see the finish and Erica's stepdad who had successfully completed his assignment of getting Barb out to the finish. I had brought the ring with me on every course marking adventure and had now taken it about 96 miles, with about 4 more to go. And let me tell you, having dragged that ring all over the Hardrock course, Frodo can suck it.</div>
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So now we had a lot to talk about on our last few miles. I let Brian and Kuni go ahead a bit and dragged behind with my thoughts. I was thinking of what I would say to Erica, of all the work I did, but frankly, I didn't get the emotional rush I thought I would at this point. I was just totally spent and stumbling over these giant rocks trying to get done. I was blindly following Gonzo, not even looking for markings (although there wasn't really anywhere to turn to get lost). The last few miles were smooth and fast, but before that, there was a huge rocky section, and every rock represented to me a broken ankle and an end to my race, so I was really being a Sally about the whole thing, taking a break here and there and tiptoeing when I probably would have been fine. I just didn't want to blow it now. Gonz was setting a terrific pace, and pretty soon, boom, there was the creek to cross. Whoa, we're here? My mind was a blank. We crossed with the help of the rope, which was probably unnecessary, and sent Kuni on his way, and per Brian's word, he got his sub 44 hour finish (yes, Gonz, you were right). Way to go, Kuni! Gonz and I dawdled a bit to get some space and then took off after him along the Nute Chute. We hit the Shrine of the Mine road and there was a guy with a flashlight ahead. I saw Brian go ahead to talk to him, and then saw one man go up the road while another stood there. I approached the one standing there.</div>
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"That's my pacer up the road there" I said to the man edging past him.</div>
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"No, I'm your pacer." What? What was wrong with this random stranger? I'm supposed to be with Brian.</div>
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"No, I don't think you understand. My pacer has gone up the road there and I need to catch up to him."</div>
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"BJ, its Gonzo. I'm your pacer." Hmm. I was going to have to defeat him with my awesome 99 mile logic.</div>
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"Well, if you're my pacer, why is the race official walking up the road?" I said cleverly. Lets see this supposed "pacer" explain that, eh?</div>
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"BJ, that's another runner who was lost and couldn't find his way."</div>
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"Oh. So you're Brian then?"</div>
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"Lets just walk up the road." It was definitely time to get done.</div>
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We got to the top of the road, and the guy was still looking for the trail to the finish, so Brian went ahead to direct him to the way down. I kept my eye on Gonzo like a shell game. I wasn't going to get fooled again. I caught up and we watched this poor guy who was so close to the finish stumble around at the bottom of the trail, unable to figure out which road to turn down. How frustrating for him to be so close but still so far. I would have been in the same boat with my Hardrock brain. Finally, he figured it out, and we gave him a minute before we made our entry. Gonzo took my Gaffi Stick and gave me the ring which I had given to him for his safe care back on the trail. We ran down together and made the left turn. There was the school building. I started letting out whoops and hollers, yelling something about the Gator Nation, my first Hardrock finish, and who knows what else. I think I was speaking in tongues. I turned at the last half block and there was the Hardrock. I usually ham it up and wave to everyone as I finish, etc. but this time, I just had tunnel vision. I have no idea what happenned to Gonzo or who was there or anything. All I saw was the Hardrock, and truly, I was mezmerized. I stopped running and just looked up in the heavens and started slowly walking to it. I gently got down on two knees, leaned forward, and kissed the Hardrock 44 hours and 15 minutes after I had started. I then called Erica over and pulled the ring out of my hand and showed it to her. I had thought of several allegedly romantic things to say, but had completely forgotten them all in my late race delirium. I do remember that she said yes. There is video proof, but I couldn't get it to upload. If anyone cares, I'll send it to them in a separate e-mail. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RUz0IclUhiU/UeywPNFEEpI/AAAAAAAABUE/TtfGYd-VAEs/s1600/Photo+Jul+14,+3+16+03+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RUz0IclUhiU/UeywPNFEEpI/AAAAAAAABUE/TtfGYd-VAEs/s400/Photo+Jul+14,+3+16+03+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting ready for the big kiss . . . </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0UiRUIQb3XM/UeywXuE5UII/AAAAAAAABUM/h3Mc-94NShQ/s1600/Photo+Jul+14,+3+16+06+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0UiRUIQb3XM/UeywXuE5UII/AAAAAAAABUM/h3Mc-94NShQ/s400/Photo+Jul+14,+3+16+06+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cBPrHkdsmXc/Ue1KtkTZeHI/AAAAAAAABXE/KqAnly_boNI/s1600/proposal+pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cBPrHkdsmXc/Ue1KtkTZeHI/AAAAAAAABXE/KqAnly_boNI/s400/proposal+pic.JPG" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The moment of truth!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aW81LNYotAM/UeywhIl91SI/AAAAAAAABUU/xgzprZKCyNQ/s1600/Photo+Jul+14,+3+17+29+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aW81LNYotAM/UeywhIl91SI/AAAAAAAABUU/xgzprZKCyNQ/s400/Photo+Jul+14,+3+17+29+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And a second time after she said yes . . . </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_NG6vZCnMQE/Ueyw5rmuuEI/AAAAAAAABU0/JIMDb-2IC0g/s1600/Photo+Jul+14,+3+19+05+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_NG6vZCnMQE/Ueyw5rmuuEI/AAAAAAAABU0/JIMDb-2IC0g/s400/Photo+Jul+14,+3+19+05+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I look pretty tired. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e-4-7lQzbwE/Ueyw0HQfvjI/AAAAAAAABUs/2TqZSjyey9E/s1600/Photo+Jul+14,+4+18+08+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e-4-7lQzbwE/Ueyw0HQfvjI/AAAAAAAABUs/2TqZSjyey9E/s400/Photo+Jul+14,+4+18+08+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But happy!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g8x4RezIP2g/UeykgLRdigI/AAAAAAAABJ4/tv3Ud1qdfqc/s1600/2013-07-14+02.18.50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g8x4RezIP2g/UeykgLRdigI/AAAAAAAABJ4/tv3Ud1qdfqc/s400/2013-07-14+02.18.50.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Gonzo, the best pacer in the world. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LqJcIasHidM/UeyxnDBCU6I/AAAAAAAABVk/Ut6Ak44uBF4/s1600/Photo+Jul+14,+5+22+16+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LqJcIasHidM/UeyxnDBCU6I/AAAAAAAABVk/Ut6Ak44uBF4/s400/Photo+Jul+14,+5+22+16+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talking to Dale, the race director. I look pretty tired, but not as tired as Barb over there. </td></tr>
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As soon as she said yes, people were all around cheering, patting us on the back, taking our picture. We hugged all of our crew, friends, and family and anyone else in reach. I gave Dale, the race director, a bear hug and thanked him for everything. I was just about to go inside to sit when I heard "MOOSE MAN!" There was Wolfgang and crew who had waited all night to see me finish. <br />
A W E S O M E! He gave me a huge hug. I told him I ran for him, and we both laughed and hugged again as I got kissed on the cheeks from his girls. And then he took my hand again, put his other hand on my shoulder. He pulled me close, almost nose to nose, and somehow pulled me in to him from the rest of the night. Then he looked me dead in the eye, face grim but smiling, and in a soft voice that no one else could hear, he said to me "Now YOU Hardrocker." That's when it actually hit me. Damn straight, Wolfgang. Now I Hardrocker.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zNQJGoQm3HY/UeyxJqg1NlI/AAAAAAAABVE/8a1GVFci2g4/s1600/Photo+Jul+14,+5+18+52+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zNQJGoQm3HY/UeyxJqg1NlI/AAAAAAAABVE/8a1GVFci2g4/s400/Photo+Jul+14,+5+18+52+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Me and Wolfgang. I LOVE this guy. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4deC9wPykRA/UeyxQQhc5WI/AAAAAAAABVM/WxKaCgIRSyM/s1600/Photo+Jul+14,+5+18+53+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4deC9wPykRA/UeyxQQhc5WI/AAAAAAAABVM/WxKaCgIRSyM/s400/Photo+Jul+14,+5+18+53+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">"Seen any moose lately . . . "<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dLvtk0obq60/Ueyw8MTpLZI/AAAAAAAABU8/9ytAiNQ1Ems/s1600/Photo+Jul+14,+4+25+23+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dLvtk0obq60/Ueyw8MTpLZI/AAAAAAAABU8/9ytAiNQ1Ems/s400/Photo+Jul+14,+4+25+23+AM.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Ahhh, sitting. Sitting is good. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HobxGwXL_uc/UeyxqcAFctI/AAAAAAAABVs/7fwoZm17ZyM/s1600/Photo+Jul+14,+5+33+23+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HobxGwXL_uc/UeyxqcAFctI/AAAAAAAABVs/7fwoZm17ZyM/s400/Photo+Jul+14,+5+33+23+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">The champagne of beers at the ready. A good crew knows how to take care of their runner . . . </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mKGgpducB7g/Ueyx86kvdxI/AAAAAAAABV8/5PcNGTRMlo0/s1600/Photo+Jul+14,+5+33+57+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mKGgpducB7g/Ueyx86kvdxI/AAAAAAAABV8/5PcNGTRMlo0/s400/Photo+Jul+14,+5+33+57+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Again, not looking so fresh . . . </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XyMdrwpRIzM/UeyyEYL_5ZI/AAAAAAAABWE/j7NtLZQuskU/s1600/Photo+Jul+14,+5+45+44+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XyMdrwpRIzM/UeyyEYL_5ZI/AAAAAAAABWE/j7NtLZQuskU/s400/Photo+Jul+14,+5+45+44+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Steve Pero and I at the finish. I owe a lot of my race to him thanks to all of his good advice and humor. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zNQ8t7zBWx4/UeyyS7t7tzI/AAAAAAAABWM/CmlLeYCHY84/s1600/Photo+Jul+14,+6+10+57+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zNQ8t7zBWx4/UeyyS7t7tzI/AAAAAAAABWM/CmlLeYCHY84/s400/Photo+Jul+14,+6+10+57+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">The shirt speaks for itself . . . </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8Qu8Ve8geFQ/UeyyUH-EgRI/AAAAAAAABWU/JWeBvRn28E8/s1600/Photo+Jul+14,+6+19+17+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8Qu8Ve8geFQ/UeyyUH-EgRI/AAAAAAAABWU/JWeBvRn28E8/s400/Photo+Jul+14,+6+19+17+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">"Hey Buddy, when did they put all those climbs on the course . . . "</td></tr>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VzoHw66EYqA/UeyyZLrqFAI/AAAAAAAABWs/Y3aKZG1pGMw/s1600/Photo+Jul+14,+6+20+05+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VzoHw66EYqA/UeyyZLrqFAI/AAAAAAAABWs/Y3aKZG1pGMw/s400/Photo+Jul+14,+6+20+05+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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They don't make them any better than Buddy. Please go check out and support his Soles4Souls program. www.soles4souls.org.</div>
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Post Race</div>
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Erica had to help take the kids back and get us packed for leaving tomorrow, so she and her family left, and I went inside to swap stories and wait for other runners. I talked with Sean and Audrey and other racers. I chatted with Scott and Liz for a bit and hung out some with Buddy's family who was waiting for him. Soon I saw Andrew finish and then Steve Pero, and more. Here came Chris Gerber, and finally, there was Buddy, finishing strong and looking great. It was 3:30 in the morning, I was out of energy and had to go. Thankfully, Gonzo was on hand to drive. On the 10 minute drive back to the cabin, I fell asleep 3 times. I then made it to the shower where I fell asleep 4 times standing up. I slept for a few hours on the couch in the AM but was too sore to get good sleep, and we were up by 8 AM to go the awards ceremony. It was packed, and it was great to see everyone with whom I had shared the last two weeks. Rich, Robert and Kevin, among others, did not finish, and I felt bad for them, but they seemed to be OK. I applaud them for coming to the awards ceremony anyways, and those who didn't finish got the loudest applause of anyone all day, as we all know it easily could have been us in their shoes. For Hardrock, like many other things, it is the journey and not necessarily the destination.</div>
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As much as it hurt to see those guys, I was thrilled to see everyone who had made it. There were lots of laughs, handshakes, hugs, stories, and more laughs. Wolfgang and crew were there, and there was more than one cry of MOOSE MAN you can rest assured! Dale then gave everyone their finishing certificates, telling an anecdote about each finisher from notes he had taken on cards. What a class act all the way. You can guess which story got told about me and it wasn't about moose man. He made Erica stand up and she got a huge round of applause. It was a great, great morning. Then we had lunch, and Erica drove us away from Silverton as I immediately fell asleep in the front seat. As we drove, I would fall asleep midsentence not even feeling sleep coming, and wake up hours later and complete my sentence. Weird. We made it home over two days, and now I am back in San Diego.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting my Master of Mileage from Dale and crew. Of course repping the Orange and Blue. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sharing a good laugh and words with Tyler Curiel and Howie Stern, two great guys who have earned every one of their finishes. Thanks again for all the good words fellas. And yes, Howie, I savored every step from Putnam on home. </td></tr>
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So, huge thanks first to Dale, the Hardrock volunteers and Board, and everyone else involved in organizing and permitting the race. What a first class, well run event. If you are fortunate enough to get in, you will see. Hardrock is organically linked with the communities and mountains around those communities, and that symbiosis produces a unique event that is wonderful in every aspect.</div>
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Secondly, thanks to my fellow Hardrockers, from the vets to the new guys. The people make the race, and I met wonderful people over the last two weeks who were strong, inspiring, generous, passionate, and just plain fun. I will enjoy seeing all of you again. Thank you for sharing the Hardrock spirit!</div>
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Next, thanks to the world's greatest crew - Erica, Gonzo, Barbara, Matty, Ryan, Sean, and Audrey. At every aid station, they were there in some combination to pick me up, get me organized, get me energized and put my butt back on the trails. I wanted to get my aid station time down under 10 minutes a stop, and while we took some a little longer to make sure I was getting calories as I left my stomach all over the beautiful San Juan Mountains, we came very close to that goal. But even more importantly, you put my brain in the right place and helped keep me positive and give me a laugh when I needed it most. Thanks guys! And to those rooting for me at home, I felt the love. You guys have put up with me going on and on and on about this, and now its in the books. Thanks for all the support from the home front over the last 6 months and during the toughest 44 hours of my life.</div>
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I can't say thank you enough to Brian "Gonzo" Gonzales who paced me through 28 miles of I don't know what. His patience, understanding, and good humor got me through the rough patches at the end. I don't know how long I would have been scrabbling up those hills, Putnam especially, without his guidance. Gonz, I think (and hope) <var id="yiv1887259308yui-ie-cursor"></var>I said what I needed to say on the trail, so I'll leave it between you and me. This was a lifetime dream, and you were integral to pulling it off. You know you don't even have to ask in the future. I can't wait to return the favor. But leave the Mormon rap at home next time.</div>
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And to Erica. This one was for you, baby. I would run 1000 Hardrocks for you . . . But please don't hold me to it.</div>
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To conclude, as I sit here, I feel like I imagine Frodo, Pippin, Sam, and Merry felt sitting in their pub at the end of the Lord of the Rings, you know, assuming they were real and all. I've gone through what was for me an incredible journey, and while I feel fundamentally different in so many different ways, the world around me moves inexorably on and seems the same. I guess that's the paradox of our lives in some way, and as those hobbits did, its time for me to quaff my beer and start to think about moving on with things. So what's next? Well, I hear you aren't a TRUE Hardrocker until you've run the course in both directions . . .</div>
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Until Next Time,</div>
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MOOSE MAN<br />
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BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-2486482245031218382013-07-11T14:06:00.003-07:002013-07-11T14:06:51.732-07:00Day before HardrockHoly crap. Its here. I'm scared poopless but confident at the same time. I know that doesn't make sense, but that's how I feel nonetheless.<br />
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I've spent the last 2 weeks in Silverton staying in a beautiful cabin at 10,500 feet and going out every day to mark the course. When I first got here, I headed out on Handies, the tallest peak on the course at over 14,000 feet, and promptly got chased off the ridge by a thunderstorm. Then the next day, I felt terrible with stuff flying out of both ends and still tried to get on the course. Bad idea. By that night, I was holed up with a 103 degree fever and feeling lousy. What confidence I had was in the hole.<br />
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But I took a few days off, and then on Wed., headed back out to start marking the course. Along with a whole host of new friends like Bob Crowley, Rich DiSimione, Buddy Teaster and others, we tackled the climbs in front of us day after day and my confidence slowly grew back again as I was often in the first group to hit the summit. I was either foolhardy or ready. Still not sure which. But I managed to see most of the last 60 miles of the course including Handies, Oscar's Pass, Virginius, Grant Swamp Pass and Putnam.<br />
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So I'm as ready as I'll get. I have lots more to say and lots more pics to put up over time, but tomorrow I will be out getting it done. Pray for my soul! And send lots of good vibes. I'll need every one . . .<br />
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Random pics from course marking . . .<br />
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I'll post explanations and more details in my way too long report after the race. Wish me luck!BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-65495601993074454002013-05-27T17:52:00.001-07:002013-05-27T17:52:07.015-07:00Countdown to Hardrock<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Well, its been a while, but to fill in the blanks - lots of running, then lots more running. This past weekend, I spent up in the Sierras. On Friday, I did a run up Baxter Pass. Then on Saturday, I crewed Gonzo at the Bishop High Sierra 50 miler. He did great, and I had a great time reliving my memories from 2 years ago. I was hoping to find someone to pace, and at the mile 48 aid station, I hooked up with Norb, who I proceeded to call Norm the rest of the night. I had been talking to his wife Lori at various aid stations, and Norb was struggling with his nutrition, so I was hoping to talk him out of dropping down to the 50 miler. Turns out I didn't need to. He came into the aid station ready to rock, so we both headed out on the Left, and he got stronger and stronger as we went, and he finished his first 100k in grand fashion. Congrats Norb! The first of many, I'm sure. </div>
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Headed up Baxter Pass. </div>
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Waterfall towards the top. </div>
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Looking back down the valley. </div>
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Just happy to be here? I thought I was having a good time . . . </div>
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Norb and Lori at the finish. Good job Norb!</div>
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Sunday was a run up Mt. Whitney. I got turned around just short of Trail Crest by a patch of snow and ice that I wasn't about to take in my microspikes, but great training at high altitude. And the burger at the portal tasted just as tasty. </div>
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This weekend was the last big push before Hardrock. While I'm 6 weeks out, I will do a lot of trail exploration and not get my usual rest, so I have to be well rested when I get out there. Friday was my 10 mile course, and I cut 3 minutes off my best time. Saturday, I couldn't run until late, but got 10 miles in during the evening. I was nervous for Sunday with that time logged on my legs. The plan was 3 trips up San Jacinto which tops out at about 11,000 feet. It went surprisingly well. Two trips via Marion Mtn. and one via the tram station added up to about 35 miles, 12,500 feet of climbing in about 12:15. Duirng the run I entertained my self with the Great Gatsby in the morning, and then listened to the Angels game, the Dodgers game, the Kings game, and the 4th quarter of the Heat game. I was out there a while. </div>
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But I think the result shows I'm fairly ready. My weight is down to 192. My knee tendonitis that was bugging me is in remission for now, and the legs feel alright today. Not too bad. </div>
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I still have some hard work and hard miles ahead, but all signs are pointing up. Hopefully I can keep my fitness where it is now. We'll see. Ultrarunning is a funny thing. One day you have it. The next . . . </div>
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Hopefully more soon. </div>
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BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-81580730028670109992013-02-19T10:18:00.001-08:002013-02-19T10:18:45.786-08:00Tough weekendSo far, all is a go on training. The idea was to put in a little peak this weekend, 3 weeks after the 43 miler. So after a relatively straight forward week with a Tuesday canyon run, a Wednesday run with Pierce and his dad on the trails by the house, a couple of Kway Paay repeats, and the usual Friday nighter, it was a day off on Saturday. <br />
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Sunday was a triple Cowles. 22.5 miles and 7500 feet of climbing. Lots of up and downs, just like the day itself. What is great about Cowles is that it is technical, steep in places, close, and I can get reception on all my various audio devices. So I spent Sunday listening to hockey while getting some great training it. <br />
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The main downsides to Cowles are that the climbs aren't that long (2.2 miles and 1.5 miles respectively), and the place, especially the backside, is PACKED. The backside is a challenge being 1.5 miles and 900 feet of climbing, and makes a perfect target for weekend warriors, and those trying to date weekend warriors. There are crowds of families with little children, lots of meat heads from the gym, lots of women in full makeup and skimpy outfits (OK, that's not such a downside), dogs galore with many off leash, and just a cross section of all kinds of folks. It is like running downhill through a mall at Christmas, assuming that mall is strewn with rocks and uneven trail. <br />
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Of all those, the gym guys crack me up. If I do three laps, I do the backside climb three times, and usually on the third, I may get caught by one really fast hiker, but generally the only guys who catch me are at the bottom of the climb, when these gym guys shoot by in their tank tops with their hair on fire. Usually, they crash and burn by the time the get halfway up, and I end up with my fast hike passing 4 out of 5 of these guys before the top. <br />
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Every once and while you see a runner out there. For example, on Sunday, I saw a guy in a Noble Canyon 50k shirt (I had mine on as well) and a lady in a Miwok 100k shirt. So there are definitely people there trying to get their trail miles in, but it sure is a crush on that one side of the mountain. The other side is relatively quiet, and half of it is on fire road, which makes it easy to get around. Anyways, there's Cowles for you. One day I will just take pictures of people I see on Cowles. And dogs. So you can get the point. <br />
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Anyways, up and over and back three times. Finished a little over 5:45, so that was about right. <br />
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Yesterday was a double (almost) Holy Jim. From where I start, it is about 8 miles each way with about 4200 feet of elevation gain. The trail starts under cover of trees by a stream and is relatively mild up until the junction with the falls at which point it starts a grind up, never steep, but always steady. After a brief run on fire road, its onto a steep exposed single track that dumps you out on the same road about a mile and half up. Then its up the fire road to the top, with a few steep pitches but nothing too bad. Its a long day each way, so double duty is intimidating. <br />
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The day went well enough for being a back to back long run. It took a little while to get warmed up, but once I hit the climb, I put my head down and cranked it out. Radio reception was OK, so had some stuff to listen to, but phone reception was out, so no hockey. Bummer. Did the first up and back in 4:15 or so, which was slower than I wanted, but still acceptable given that it was going to be 50 miles in 2 days. But I also realized I was going to run out of water. The trailhead is about 25 minutes from civilization (which is really saying something in Orange County) and there is no water at the trailhead. I had brought 8 bottles, which I realized wasn't going to be enough. I can only carry 4 in my pack, but I should have brought water to drink before the run and at the car aid station. By the time I got done with my 1/2 subway and hit the trail again, I was down to 3.5 bottles of water and feeling parched. I knew I wouldn't make it up to the top again with my water situation, but decided to go as far as I could get. On the way up, there is a spring (not Bear Spring 1/2 way up, but a smaller spring under a tree at mile 3). I was iffy on taking too much water from there as I had no way to treat it and didn't know how clean it was. In talking to other hikers, I decided to risk it (partly) and filled up a little bit mixed with water I knew was good, hoping if it was bad, it would at least be diluted. Doing that, I made it up to the start of the single track before I headed back down. I walked in the last 1/2 mile or so with a group of Asian hikers who I had passed a few times up and down. It always makes me feel good to pass people going up a second time, as it makes you feel like you are doing something unusual. I had fun explaining ultramarthons to the group and it was a good way to end the day. Even with that, I ended up doing this second part of the run in 3 hours and 15 minutes, and probably would have been around 3 hours even had I not stopped to chat. 7:45 for 28 miles, or 16 minute miles. The day before was 22 miles in 5:45 or 15.5 minute miles. The total for Sunday and Monday was 50 miles, 14,000 feet of climbing, in 13:30 which was about 16.25 minute miles. Given that this was after a full week of training, I feel pretty good. I definitely felt like I had more in the tank when I finished Holy Jim, so that's a good sign. As always, I could have gone faster in sections and would like to have brought enough water to finish off the second climb, but I will be back to see if I can better my double Holy Jim time. In the meantime, a relative success. <br />
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Don't know what this week will hold. I'm a little burned out, so want to have a fun week. It is supposed to rain tonight, so I will head out to enjoy that somewhere. Will stick to one long run this weekend. I'm thinking a couple of repeats on Cuyamaca on Saturday and then maybe a double grind up High Point, as it will have been a month since my last visit. 3 more weekends until my break! Gotta keep it up . . . BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-91886289577633341852013-02-10T20:05:00.001-08:002013-02-10T20:05:12.128-08:00Three weeks of funSheesh, three weeks have gone by since the latest update? This is not going as well as I had hoped. Let me summarize: Lots and lots of climbing. And then some. The highlight was my birthday run. As many of you know, I like to run a mile for every year. While this does not bode well for retirement, it is fun now. I turned it into a training run for Hardrock, deciding to do a triple High Point. That's 39 miles and 10,000 feet of climbing. So to top it off, I did another 2 mile 1800 foot climb which is the start of High Point. 43 miles and 11,800 feet. This was after a week of training, so a good test of how things were going to this point. In short, it was very cold up top with a freezing wind. I tried walking sticks for the first time, and while I liked them, they were a pain to fiddle with, and I need a good way to stow them when I'm not using them, so something to experiment with. I was able to do the run in 11:45, so I'm right on pace for where I want to be.<br />
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That was the Sunday before my birthday. The Saturday before Super Bowl I did 24.5 miles with Gonzo looking at a possible reroute for Noble Canyon 50K. Disappointing day. I didn't really feel like I had it and was hurting by the end. This was in the same week as the birthday run, and I had done a few runs in between, so it could just have been the strain of 80 plus miles of heavy climbing.<br />
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This week was relatively normal. Tuesday AM run which went well as my first "flat" run in a while. I did a nighttime Cowles Mtn. run, the Friday usual at my usual 2 hours, a Saturday run with Koa the puppy up North Fortuna which was as much of an upper body workout as lower as I wrestled with him around the single track.<br />
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And then today was Harrison Grade. I had not done Harrison Grade before, but had heard about it and even driven it once. It is 11.1 miles and about 4900 feet of climbing one way. So a long gradual climb just like I expect up until the final pass of both Virginus and Oscar's. It went better than I could have expected. I did the climb up in exactly 3 hours. The last 3 miles were complete snow and ice and in the low 30's as compared to the start in the 50's in the orange and avocado groves below. Towards the top passed an awesome old Chargers truck. Met the occupants at the top who were hiking with Rodney the Rottie. Very cute dog who desperately wanted a bite of my Carls Junior bacon egg and cheese biscuit. Sorry, doggy.<br />
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The trip down was about 1:40. Somewhere, I lost my phone. I don't know how I lost it as it was in a pocket in the front of my vest. Not sure how it pops out without me seeing it. But it did. And so from the bottom I drove back up to the last place I saw it, over 7 miles up the road. No dice. But on my way down, I ran into three folks in a truck who had found it and called Erica. When asked about what I looked like, she told them, "Tall, bald, and probably dirty." While accurate, I feel like that's somewhat pejorative. Whatever the case, they found me, so thanks guys!<br />
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Pics below from the last weekend of running. This week will be a long run Saturday and a long run Monday on the day off. Probably try to do multiple Cowles repeats on Saturday followed by double Holy Jim on Monday. We'll see.<br />
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Here's Koa on top of Fortuna. Good job, puppy!<br />
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Here's the Charger truck I talked about. I think it was an old F250. The guy's a good fan. I love that his tailgate section, E4 is on the truck. I hope they don't move to LA, or he's going to have to sell his truck. <br />
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A picture of a tree on the way up. Note that the ice is frozen sideways on the trees. I've never seen this before. It looks cold just looking at it.<br />
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Here's Rodney the Rottweiler at top. He was super cute and friendly and not cold at all. <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OEuHwTw9Ix8/URhsOtom5fI/AAAAAAAABFU/jLWsEeV2dUM/s1600/snow+top.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OEuHwTw9Ix8/URhsOtom5fI/AAAAAAAABFU/jLWsEeV2dUM/s1600/snow+top.jpg" /></a></div>
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Probably 6 inches of snow or more at the top. Good Hardrock training. </div>
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Looking up towards the summit and Boucher's lookout, the goal.<br />
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And looking back down at the orange groves.<br />
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BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-26051445148603610442013-01-16T08:10:00.001-08:002013-01-16T08:10:17.304-08:00So, lots to catch up on. Training has been going as well as can be expected to this point. I used Christmas and New Years to really kick it off with a bang. The 23rd was 6 hours on Cowles Mountain doing repeats and a hike to the top of Cuyamaca with Erica, and the 24th was a fantastic soggy Christmas Eve AM run with the Desert Rats. It was 10 flat miles that I thought of skipping to enjoy the rain that was supposed to hit San Diego. Turns out it was all waiting for me out in the Cuyamacas. The run was 40 degrees, steady rain, and 40 mph winds. Awesome. Then a little jog on Christmas itself.<br />
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The weekend after featured the debut of my new Friday course. I added an additional climb of North Fortuna which added about a mile and 500 feet of climbing. My first rip through that course went 2 hours and 5 minutes. Saturday was more Cowles Mountain repeats, and Sunday was my last tailgate loop.<br />
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New Years was more of the same. The day after brought an Oriflamme climb. Here are some good fun pictures from the climb.<br />
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Lots of snow and ice towards the top of the climb.<br />
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Some of the switchbacks going down (and then back up). The climb up is steep, then very steep for the first 3 miles, then levels off for a flat section for a half mile before the last 2 miles, which is up but bearable.<br />
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I'm not sure how this got mixed in, but this is all the dog water on top of Cowles Mountain. When I was on my Cowles Mountain training, there was a big sign that said "CAN YOU CARRY 8.5 LB. OF WATER TO THE TOP?" Yes, yes I could. It really made me want to lose 8.5 pounds before Hardrock.<br />
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From the bottom of the climb, less than an hour after running through the snow and ice. I love San Diego County. Its nuts.<br />
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Fuzzy view from the top of the climb of San Gorgonio and San Jacinto. Hurry up and thaw! I need to get up at altitude!<br />
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The meadow at the top of the climb. I always feel like Clint Eastwood should be trotting across the field on a pale horse . . .<br />
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From the flat portion of the climb. You can see the trail cutting up along the face of the mountain in front for the last part of the climb.<br />
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Sorry these are out of order. About 1/2 way down the last section of the Oriflamme climb.<br />
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And another one from the bottom. Cacti abound.<br />
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I don't know what this is . . .<br />
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It is about 2500 feet over 5 miles. with 2 sections separated by about a half mile plateau. When I started, it was 38 degrees with about a 40 mph wind, so I was bundled up tight. The run went well and got done in 2:45. Friday was the new course again, where I lowered my time by 5 minutes to 2 hours flat. Saturday was a double Oriflamme with Gonzo. It was 28 when we started, but clear and sunny, and it quickly warmed up. On the second lap, Gonzo lapped me going down, but I was able to stick the final climb and get a few minutes on the top, so we both cracked it. Good sign. Even better, I did the home course on Sunday in my normal time. My legs had passed sore straight to numb, so it was just a matter of sucking it up and getting it done. Finally today was 2 times up Kwaay Paay. So hitting all the major training points early, but still over 7 months away, so I need to make sure I'm not blowing my wad early. Pacing will be important. But so far, so good. I'll put up some more stats next time . . .<br />
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<br />BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-43180645068172239812012-12-23T21:24:00.000-08:002012-12-23T21:24:11.527-08:00Mission trail weekendWell, it was an interesting weekend. The plan was to get in my usual Friday run, then 10 miles with Gonzo, then a long Sunday run, then 10 miles in the Cuyamacas. Well, Sunday didn't happen. I got to the trailhead from work, and realized I had forgotten my running shorts. My choices were to run in my work pants, run in my underwear, or go home. The first two promised chafing and threatened my running weekend, but I was mighty tempted. I had done the underwear thing before. There's even allegedly video of me running in the Cuyamacas in my Gator boxers and a long sleeve and a vest after I forgot shorts for a snow run. But I also remembered how cold it was and how I had chaffing issues for a bit after that, so I packed it in.<br />
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On Saturday AM, I met Gonzo at the Clairemont Mesa East trailhead at 7:30 AM. It was Gonzo's first run back after a little layoff and what I considered my kickoff run for Hardrock training. We did the Quarry loop, the Visitor Center Loop, South Fortuna, down the trail to Oak Canyon, then back up to the top of North Fortuna, then around to the rim trail and back to the car. Gonzo had one of those fancy wrist things, and it reported 11.5 miles or so and somewhere around 2:40. I don't know if it tracks elevation, but I would guess somewhere around 2800 feet or so. Not bad.<br />
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Erica wanted to go for a hike, so we ended up bringing Killer up to the top of Cuaymaca Peak. Its about 2.7 miles and something like 1700 feet gain to the top. The last third was essentially on and off snow and ice on the road, and Deeser took a good fall to the butt on a slick spot coming down. But she popped back up and finished strong. Fun afternoon and bonus climb!<br />
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For Sunday, it was repeats up Cowles Mountain. 6 of them, 3 up the front side, 3 up the backside. Could anyone get sick of this view?<br />
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I was about to find out.<br />
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Leaving at 10 AM, I enjoyed listening to the Chargers whoop up on the Jets. That whole situation was hilarious. Any little mistake, and the Jets fans would boo at the top of their lungs. False start? BOOOOO! Bad fair catch signal? BOOOOO! Bad hair day by the quaterback? BOOOOOOOOO! Those were some angry fans. It would probably be just as bad at the Charger game next week at home, but the stadium will be half Raider fans, so no one will get organized enough to boo loudly. They will be too busy beating the snot out of each other.<br />
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Anyways, I did my 6 repeats. For each set of two, I would start on the big rock trail, go over Cowles then down the Golfcrest trail, then repeat. If you haven't been on the Golfcrest trail, it is packed. All the time. Running down is tough to dodge everyone in your way, especially as the trail is really rough. Its like running through a trail in the middle of UTC mall at Christmas time. But going up, you always have people to chase and catch. The Big Rock side is relatively quiet. Each round trip was about 7.5 miles and 2500 feet of climbing, so, if I did the 3 round trips I had planned (6 trips up Cowles, three from Big Rock and 3 from Golfcrest), it would be about 22.5 miles and 7500 feet of climbing. Doing the math, it comes out to 33,333 feet per 100 miles, or almost exactly Hardrock. So it was like doing a quarter of hard rock.<br />
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The goal was 6 hours. I did approximately 1:42 on the first round trip, 1:57 on the second round trip, and 2:11 on the last trip, adding up to roughly 5:50, or ten minutes under goal. Weather was almost perfect at 60 and mostly cloudy. One of the problems was food. I was starving by the last round trip, but I had only brought gels. I need to bring a little real food next time. After finishing, I pounded a foot long buffalo chicken Subway which really hit the spot.<br />
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No real interesting wildlife or anything like that. Just a grind past a lot of odd people. One time I'll take pictures so you can see what I share the trail with there. Lots of women made up to the nines on their morning stroll. And lots of dogs.<br />
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Overall a good weekend. My legs are pretty tired, and I have a ten mile run with the bad rats courtesy of Matt Davis tomorrow. He said easy on the invite, so I'm going to hold him to it. I've only ever seen Matt drink beer. Rumor has it, he actually ran once upon a time. I'll believe it when I see it.<br />
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More soon!<br />
<br />BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-32690281282612768312012-12-21T11:20:00.002-08:002012-12-21T11:20:46.951-08:00Weekend of training number 1So, not much to report so far. Fairly anti-climatic. Did my usual run on Tuesday. Got some bonus miles on Monday returning a friend's car and running home, but nothing dramatic. Thursday was a frigid (by San Diego terms) run in the canyon highlighted by a pack of 3 coyotes, big ones, that were not at all worried about me. Very pretty, but ominous to Clairemont cats. Everything was frosted over, and Wundermap said 31 degrees. Brrr. <br />
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So, the weekend. I've decided to add an extra hillclimb into my usual Friday night run. Why? Well take a look below. <br />
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Ok, that's kinda tiny. And not enitrely accurate as it has Hardrock being run in the opposite direction that is being run this year. But you get the idea. Its a graph of all the climbing and altitude of various races. See all the pointy stuff on top? That's Hardrock. So, extra climbing it is. <br />
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My Friday Night Run, which I've been doing for about 6 years to start virtually every weekend, is to run from the end of Clairemont Mesa into Mission Trails, down into Suyacott Wash, up South Fortuna, down to the saddle, up North Fortuna, down along the ridge at the edge of Suyacott Wash and finish up on the rim trail. I can do it in about 1:15 to 1:20 depending on daylight, etc. When I was feeling bold, I'd add the Quarry climb which adds another 400 or 500 feet of climbing and a few miles, and I can do that in about 1:40 to 1:50. If I had to guess, the Friday run is about 6 miles with about 1200 feet of climbing and so the quarry run maybe 8 to 9 miles with 1700 feet of climbing? So, now instead of going down to the saddle and up Fortuna, I'm going to go down the alternate powerline trail all the way down to Oak Creek and then up to the top of Fortuna. That should add about 700 feet of climbing in about 3/4 mile. Bringing the run to about 10 miles and 2400 feet of climbing. Multiply by 10, and that would still be way, way short of Hardrock. Gulp. Hopefully I'm short on my guess of how much climbing is in the run or long on the distance. Anyways, figure its good for me to add another climb. More than anything else it means a later dinner. Boo!<br />
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Anyways, Saturday will be 10 miles in Mission Trails with Gonzo, likely on many of these same trails. Sunday will also be Mission Trails, but I think I will do repeats up and down Kway Paay which is 950 feet over 1.25 miles. I'll just knock out however many repeats I can get done in 6 hours, or two football games. I generally climb and descend that between 45 and 50 min, but I'm guessing there will be some degredation. I would be stoked to get 8. We'll see. <br />
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Monday, I got an invitation forwarded from the bad rats group of a christmas eve day run out in the Cuyamacas. I'm not a very social runner or a very good group runner, but I think I'll turn out anyways. The guy organizing it, Matt, is a great dude, and the weather is supposed to be rough, so it should be fun. <br />
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On the race side, I'm looking at renting a cabin at about 11,500 feet for the 2 weeks of Hardrock. The town Hardrock is based in is at 9,500 feet, so I figure I can get a jump on the altitude. Got a great note from Scotty Mills that he and his wife and maybe Angela are going to be at Camp Hardrock and an offer to help with pacing. With any luck, Scotty is going to get in (he's 9 on the vet waitlist as a five time finisher), and I will pick up my pacers from another source. In any case its fantastic to know that I have such a fabulous resource to tap for info. He will be sick of me. <br />
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Hopefully I have a few pics and good times to report on Monday or Tuesday. Hit the trails! <br />
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BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-49688669270555211082012-12-18T10:08:00.000-08:002012-12-18T10:08:03.080-08:00Hard Rock!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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No, not that Hard Rock, although I may wish for that by the time its all said and done . . . <br />
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So, on my 5th try, I finally got into Hardrock. Talk about a come to Jesus moment. If you have read anything at all about Hardrock, you'll know why I am both excited and nervous! The short of it is that its a 100 mile race (102.5 at last count) in Colorado with lots of climbing and lots of elevation. You can read all about it, if you care to, here: <a href="http://www.hardrock100.com/">www.hardrock100.com</a>. <br />
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I was out enjoying myself at a Charger tailgate, when Erica tapped me on the shoulder and showed me her phone. There was the TWEET OF DEATH. <br />
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<b><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hardrock
Hundred (<a href="https://twitter.com/hardrock100">@hardrock100</a>)</span></b><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="https://twitter.com/hardrock100/status/280388520902811648">12/16/12,
11:06 AM</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Welcome to Buddy Teaster, Ken Legg, BJ Haeck... two left<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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I was in. Third to last in the never group, but in nonetheless. My exuberance was quickly outweighed by reality. These next 7 months were going to hurt. A lot. Why? <br />
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This is a dream race, one where your mettle is truly tested in the most beautiful mountains you can imagine. May consider it to be the hardest race in America, although I would think the folks at Badwater, Sustina, and other races would have a bone to pick with that conclusion. Suffice to say, it is in the discussion, and from what I can tell, I certainly wouldn't disagree. They give you 48 hours to cover the distance, and there still is only about a 70 percent finisher rate, often lower.<br />
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The race is in mid-July, so training starts . . . . . . . . NOW! Lots and lots and lots of climbing. Also, the hard part. Starting Super Bowl Sunday night - no soda, no beer, no dessert with the hope of dropping about 15 pounds of extra weight that would be no fun to drag over the mountains. This is not going to be fun. <br />
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Lots of things to try as well. Trek poles or no poles? What kind of shoes? Hydropel? How often can I get into altitude? <br />
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Anyways, I will need to keep a close eye on my training and training times, so this blog is officially up and running until further notice with lots of boring entries and probalby not too many pics, but if you want to come along on a journey as a mediocre ultra runner takes on the ultimate chalenge, its on like this guy . . . <br />
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BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-11750089916335885112012-10-02T23:34:00.001-07:002012-10-03T09:23:54.722-07:00Bear with me . . . <br />
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<span style="color: lime;">My latest adventure was the Bear, which they used to advertise as a cool autumn loop through the pines. Well, presumably because it wasn’t a loop anymore, and because it was in the mid 70’s for many of the races, at least at the start, they changed the slogan to 36 hours of indian summer. I think that’s a great moniker. The race would take me 100 miles from Logan, UT, home to the Utah State Aggies, to Fish Haven, ID, home to, presumably, fish. In the process, I would go over some 11 or 12 passes with a cumulative elevation gain of 22,000 feet as I bounced up and down between 5,000 and 9,000 feet above sea level. Sounds fun! Or not.</span></div>
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<span style="color: lime;">Erica and I flew in on Tuesday night and scouted the course on Wednesday looking at aid stations and driving those parts of the course that were on fire road to get some idea of what was in store. I could tell I had bitten off a big bite. The climbs looked steep, but the course was beautiful, littered with flaming red maples and sunshine yellow aspens. Oh, and cows. Lots and lots of cows.</span></div>
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<span style="color: lime;">Thursday was spent relaxing and organizing drop bags, which is always a chore, especially for a race like this one. From what I could tell from the weather, it was going to be in the 50’s at the start, get to the mid-70’s during the day, drop to the low 40’s at night, then back up to the mid-70’s by the time I expected to finish at around 2:30. That meant stashing food, drink, various different clothing including hat and gloves, etc. into various bags to be taken to various aid stations to account for several different scenarios. Definitely had to plan.</span></div>
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<span style="color: lime;">Coming into the race, the best case scenario goal for me was around 32:30, sort of picked randomly by UltraSignup as my “projected time”, but I didn’t feel that to be likely. I hadn’t felt great in the weeks of training leading up to the race, and I did not perform well at White River 50 about 2 months before, so I was skeptical. Additionally, I was coming off my HURT washout, so confidence was not at an all time high. I was going to be very happy with any kind of finish.</span></div>
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<span style="color: lime;">After packing the bags, we dropped them off at the race director’s trout farm. Yes, the race director owns a trout farm. How player is that? The race meeting was low key but helpful. I had already gotten a ton of great intel from Brian “Gonzo” Gonzales, a Bear veteran, who had prepped me as to where to look out for tricky turns, brutal climbs, and, most importantly for me given my past experiences (hello owl, moose and cougar), rampant wildlife. While at the race meeting, I talked to various veterans of the course who helped with additional descriptions and stories while pointing at a map that was as long as a picnic table. As a result, I never got lost. Well, almost never. But more on that later. After a quick talk with Scotty Mills’ buddy Rocket Jones, it was time to go get some rest.</span></div>
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<span style="color: lime;">After the meeting, it was dinner at Noodles and Company and then in bed by 9. I slept fairly well and was up when my alarm went off at 4:30 for the 6 AM start. Did the usual pre race ritual of shower and then lubing up everything that can be lubed. And I mean everything. Threw down a couple of bananas and a couple of pieces of cinnamon bread and drove to the start. I had a few plans for the race that I was going to enact no matter what. First, drink more Nuun and less water to try to prevent cramping which is always my bugaboo at these things. Second, take my time in the aid stations because the last few races I had missed out on filling bottles or grabbing food to try to save time. How did these changes work? Lets find out . . .</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 13px;">We were milling about on a street outside a park and suddenly everyone started running. I guess someone said go. I had scouted this section and knew we had a decently steep mile of road through a nice neighborhood before hitting the trail. I wonder what the heck the people thought at 6 AM on a Friday (the race is Friday to Saturday to ensure enough volunteers as several are LDS and couldn’t volunteer on a Sunday)as a herd of headlamped runners came thundering past their door. Anyways, my thought was to go a little fast and be a little out of my league by the time I got to the single track. I am a rhythm runner, and if I can set that rhythm high enough, I can usually keep it, but if I set it too low, its very hard for me to pick it up later. I wanted to have a good tempo from the start so I pushed it some up to the singletrack at which point everyone filed in for the slog of the first climb. Like Wasatch, Cascade Crest and others, a lot of the climbing in the Bear was front loaded. In this case the course gained about 3,500 feet in the first 7 miles or so. It was a grind, and I felt like I was constantly working a little too hard as the predawn darkness gave reluctant way to the early morning, but there was a gap between me at the end of my train and the start of the next train of folks, so I was hanging in there. I was very careful to make sure I was eating every ½ hour and drinking electrolytes instead of water. Soon enough, I was over the top and got my first taste of downhill. How sweet it was! Down I flew passing tons of folks in what is my usual pattern. I am good to OK on the uphills of a mile or less and very good on downhill (at least for me), but struggle on long ups, and </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 13px;">so was my usual pattern of getting passed on the long climbs and getting people back on the downs.</span><br />
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Running a traverse before the first aid station. You can see the trail going back along the traverse to the left. </div>
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<span style="color: lime;">After bottoming out after a relatively short descent, I climbed back up to the first aid station. I was full of fire and feeling good until I heard “Hey, is that a Gator hat?” I turned and was faced with my nightmare, a Georgia Bulldog in charge of an aid station. Forced to accept his hospitality, I closely inspected everything that I took from there, rest assured and held back on my urge to throw a cup of Gatorade in his face. I did think to myself “Gators run, Bulldogs serve.” Bad karma, I know. After some good natured banter, it was off to finish the climb and then the first long downhill. Below me was a field of yellows and reds, but I would go even further down than I could see, down, down, down for miles, almost back to the starting elevation. I made great time through here. At one of the turns, two guys went straight and I called to them so they came back. Near miss for those guys or they could have been in Ogden.</span></div>
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At the top of the fist climb. Finally. </div>
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We would descend all the way to the red trees in the valley, and that would be only about 1/3 of the trip down. </div>
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And down we kept going, down into the bottom of that valley. </div>
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<span style="color: lime;">The course markings for the day were, frankly, adequate, no more, but no less. It would have been nice to see a few more ribbons on long stretches, but the turns were well marked as long as you were paying moderate attention. Finally, after a long downhill, I saw a sign saying ½ mile to the aid station. I looked at my chart. I was about an hour ahead of my best projected time. Uh oh. I turned to the guy next to me and asked what his best goal was. 28 hours. I turned to the guy on the other side of me and asked his goal. Under 30. Double uh oh. I meant to go out fast but not this fast. Hmmmm.</span></div>
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<span style="color: lime;">As I pulled in to the aid, I saw Erica just pulling up. “Deeser!” I yelled. She looked up and shot me a glance and a gesture, clearly good naturedly annoyed (is that an oxymoron?) that I was so far ahead of schedule. I just shrugged. What are you going to do? She got me fueled with my new secret weapon – cold applesauce. I’m telling you, when in doubt, it goes down easy, and now that they sell it in pouches, it is easy to carry and eat. After that and some cold spaghettios, I was off. Wait a minute, what was that on the aid station table? I accosted some terrified looking 8 year old kid. “Is that up for grabs?” I guess so, he stammered, and I was off with my prize, an Egg McMuffin. The next section was a wide dirt road that I used to try to get my nutrition and hydration dialed in eating half the McMuffin and running some then walking some as it gradually climbed. I got dusted pretty good by some hick hunters driving as fast as they could on the dirt roads clearly annoyed and bemused by the runners on their trails. Thanks guys.</span></div>
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In the aid station at mile 19, Leatham Hollow, apparently not enjoying what I'm eating. </div>
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Buffet line. The kid with the hat is about to get poached . . . </div>
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Me and my McMuffin heading up the road to Richard's Hollow. </div>
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<span style="color: lime;">Then it was through the next aid 3 miles later and then up a beautiful singletrack climb. It was really steep at first, and I quickly got dropped by the people around me, but I found my rhythm soon enough and kept slugging away. It flattened out at the top and I did some running in here through beautiful meadows bisected by rock formations and streams. The day was warm but not bad as we gained elevation, and it felt good to be in real mountains. By now the pack had spread out, and I only occasionally saw another runner either passing me or as I passed them. From this point on, I would say I stayed in my place in the race pretty much to the very end, as I got passed by a few folks but also did some passing myself.</span></div>
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The views didn't suck. </div>
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<span style="color: lime;">After the crest of the climb, I got to a downhill road and again took off and was “flying” (that’s relative in 100 miler terms). I was having a problem, though, as I could feel giant blood blisters under both big toenails and it was making me tentative. Crap. As I rounded the corner, I could see the aid station about a mile below. Distracted, I looked up and kicked a rock. OW! OW! OW! I pinwheeled my arms to keep from falling. That was the worst. My entire upperbody – back, lats, triceps – seized into cramps. Fortunately, kicking the rock broke the worst of the blood blisters under my nail, and I looked down to see a giant red spot on the top of my shoe. Gross, but it meant that I could put more pressure on that foot again. OK, good trade off. After walking off the cramps and the initial pain for a few minutes, I got back in the groove and made it down to the aid, even further ahead of my projected schedule.</span></div>
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Coming down the road to Cowley Canyon aid, about mile 29 or so, after the great bloodletting. What a relief. You can see the trail we go out on to the right as we climb over the ridge here. </div>
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We had to dodge ATV's most of the race, but the vast majority were nice and shared the road. Here come two now . . . </div>
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<span style="color: lime;">This pattern continued over the next few climbs and descents as I was able to keep things together. The climb out of Cowley Canyon aid seemed to take longer than I thought it would, but I absolutely crushed the descent, passing a big group of folks. Coming into the next aid at Right Hand Fork, I sat for a moment, and saw a guy drinking a PBR. By now, at mile 37 or so, it was pretty hot, maybe upper 70’s. I asked the guy if he had half a beer for a poor forlorn runner. He got this giant grin on this face and ran to his car to get me a cold one. (If you haven’t guessed by now, nutrition is not my long suit). Man, did that beer taste good. He was high fiving me and laughing telling all his friends about the 100 miler that drank his beer. Between that and the kid with the Egg McMuffin, I think I left my mark. Dipping my hat in the cold creek, I was off again up another climb and down to Temple Fork. The descent into Temple Fork was maybe my favorite 2 or 3 miles of the race. There was a section on single track where you ran next to this rushing brook as you wound through narrow canyon walls dotted with grasses and trees of every color. Remarkable.</span></div>
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Shots from the descent. You may get tired of the colors, but I didn't. </div>
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And down by the creek and almost to the aid station. </div>
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Now THIS is an aid station. PBR and apple sauce. The next big thing. </div>
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<span style="color: lime;">Coming into Temple Fork, it was 5 PM and again, I had made up time. I had heard horror stories about this climb though, so I took some time to get my night gear ready and headed out. My goal was to get to the top before I had to turn on my light. This section was a grind, but Gonzo had forewarned me, so even though it took over 2 hours, I was ready for it and it never seemed ridiculous. Well, maybe one section. It helped that the BYU game kicked off so I had football on the radio. That would get me through the next 3 to 4 hours.</span></div>
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Getting my grub on before Tony Grove. It was supposed to get cold so I grabbed my vest and tucked my jacket away. I didn't really need either, at least not for the climb. </div>
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Up and away. I'd like to tell you that the trail moderated after the start of this climb. I'd like to, but . . . </div>
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<span style="color: lime;">As night settled in, I got to Tony Grove about 7:30 or so, not having needed my light (YES!). At this point, 2/3 of the climbing was over, so I felt pretty confident about a finish, having about 22 hours to cover the last 50 miles. As I sat in the chair, I started coughing up green superballs from all the dust I had inhaled. Except they weren’t superballs this time but strange cylindrical shapes. As I was racked with coughs I could feel something else coming. Uh oh. As Deese was coming up to hand me something, I put both hands up as a warning and RALPH! Up came my ginger ale that I had just drank. I sat in my chair with about a minute or two of dry heaves. I’m sure I was quite the sight. With that out of the way, I started on my night staple, chicken soup, taking a cup for the road, and I was up and out, not to see Deeser again until the AM.</span></div>
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Tony Grove Lake. Nice and pretty until someone had to ruin it by barfing all over the place. </div>
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<span style="color: lime;">The night sections all blended together somewhat as I got more and more tired. Trudge, trudge, lurching descent, chicken soup, repeat. I was still way ahead of schedule, and in fact for a while had dreams of a sub 30 hour finish which gets you a different belt buckle (yes, you get belt buckles as medals), but could not keep up my pace. I remember the climb to Steam Mill being excruciating. At one point, the group I was with saw a bunch of people way up the wrong trail and we had to call them back. Another near miss. The night marking again was adequate, not great but not bad. I did really like the reflectors they used as opposed to glow sticks. You could pick them up from a long way off and didn’t have to worry about them running out of power. There was only one turn that I almost missed, but a little thought about it and I made the right choice, finding the ribbon soon after the split. The night sections seemed to last and last and last. I remember thinking the Steam Mill descent was more of a flat, and that flat had tons of cows who didn’t like having the light shone on them. Too bad cows. I remember the section from Franklin (or was it Logan River) to the ski lodge not being too bad except when I went to my book on tape, it wasn’t there. All I had were old Petros and Money show podcasts. There is very little more surreal than trapsing though the Utah wilderness at 4 AM listening to two guys argue about what cartoon girl they would want to have sex with. Odd. But they were funny and kept me moving. I also remember some guy with a green headlamp laying literally face first in the dirt with his pacer assuring me he was just taking a power nap. I really wanted to take a picture, but felt it was disrespectful so moved on.</span></div>
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<span style="color: lime;">At Beaver Lodge, the aid station was indoors, and I used an indoor toilet. What a blessing. It’s the little things. I also sat and sullenly licked pudding out of a cup until someone came and brought me a spoon. I’m sure I was grossing people out, but I was too tired to get up and get one myself. Apparently I looked pitiful enough that some aid station worker, clearly tired of looking at me, brought me one. As I stumbled out of there, I realized that 30 hours was probably gone, but I was still way, way ahead of things, so was just determined to keep pounding. For some reason, the next sections seemed to take forever. I got into Gibson Basin about 6:30 or so, crossing from Utah into Idaho. Hooray! I made a quick stop there, and as I headed out, it started to lightly snow. WTF? I had on a hat and gloves but from 75 to light snow? It stopped after about 5 or 10 minutes, but the gray skies lingered, which was a nice shelter from the sun. As it became lighter I headed down to Beaver Creek, still an hour or so ahead of my projected time. No Deeser as I was too fast, but took off my night stuff, including my lights, jacket, hat, gloves, etc. and put on my finishing shirt. From Stone Brewery, it says “I didn’t run this far to drink yellow fizzy beer.” Amen.</span></div>
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More leaves. Ho hum. We see this every day in San Diego. Or not. </div>
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The scene at Beaver Creek . . . </div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: lime;">The second to last climb was fairly mild and went quickly. I wish I had some legs for it, but now was just grinding away at a finish. Even my downhilling had become a lurching stumble. Everything was relatively together, but I was just too fatigued and sore from a too fast start to really be able to do anything. Well at least I had my Jay Mohr/Jim Rome podcasts. Turned them on, “Battery Low”, and off they went after just an hour. DAMMIT! Well, just keep grinding . . .</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: lime;">Coming down to the last aid station, about ½ mile out, there was the Deeser to walk me in. THANK YOU! If you don’t run these things, you have no idea who good it feels to see a friendly face in the middle of nowhere as you are struggling to survive. I looked at the time and had a VERY outside shot at sub-31 if I could do a quick station change. (As an aside, I succeeded in my goals of taking my time at stations. WAY too much time. My night station times were all 15 min or more with one exception. Next time, I need to find a happy medium, although a lot of that time was spent checking maps and directions as I was paranoid about getting lost. Hopefully, I will be comfortable at the next race and pare that down.) So I busted through my station. Now I had my ipod with my music. Went to put that on. “Low Battery”. AGAIN?! Well, at least I had my radio. Where was it? Oh yeah, I gave it to Erica to lighten my load. That also had my clock, so now I would have no idea about how I was doing time wise either or how far I had to go. As Nap Dynamite would say (from nearby Preston, Idaho), Idiot. (Another aside: when Uncle Rico says “I could throw a football over them mountains,” he was talking about the very mountains I was running in! I kept making jokes to myself in my head as I was running about looking up to see a football go flying over me. Yes, I was very tired, but it kept me amused. Thanks, Uncle Rico!)</span></div>
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Here I come . . . </div>
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And there I go . . . </div>
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<span style="color: lime;">The climb out of the last aid station, called Ranger Dip, has a nasty reputation, and it is well earned, climbing some 700 feet or so in about 2/3 of a mile. Murder at mile 92.5. But I do well at these short steep pushes, and did a “Gonzo” – slow and steady, no stopping – and passed about 5 people on the climb who had stopped or were taking breaks. At the top, I saw someone motoring to catch me. Wow! Turned out it was a pacer. Striking up a conversation at the top, it was Jeff Huff, one of the RD’s of HURT, and the same guy who tried to nurse me through his aid station at the falls not 9 months ago. Small world. We shared a story and a few laughs at the top which were a huge boost, then he and his charge, who had caught up to me on the downhill, were off like bunnies.</span></div>
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<span style="color: lime;">I was cooked. I tried lurching ahead, but I really didn’t have much left either physically or mentally. After what seemed like forever, I finally got a view of the lake. Man, it was still so far away and so far down! How were we ever going to get there? I soon had my answer as the trail went down. Straight down. Loose and straight down. For a LOOOOONG way. OK then. Off I went at my best speed just chugging along as best I could. It had gotten really hot as the grey had burned off, and I was drinking, but the heat had sapped what little desire and energy I had left.</span></div>
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<span style="color: lime;">Finally we came out to a parking lot, then up one more climb that looked a lot worse than it was to a water tower and then down to the final road. There was no one ahead of me to catch and no one behind me to catch me. There was no way to get 31 hours, so there was no time goal to chase. This is where the tough get going as true character comes when you perform when it doesn’t really matter and no one is watching. So I promptly began to walk. Pathetic. Embarrassingly, I walked most of it in from there, about a mile or so, running a few steps here or there until the last quarter mile at which point the emotion of the moment took over and I grew a pair and ran it in to the finish. The clock stopped at 31:11, good for 96 out of 260 entrants and some 170 finishers. My best result in terms of where I finished in the pack so far, and over an hour and 15 minutes faster than what I thought my best projected time to be, so a lot to be proud of.</span></div>
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At least they were welcoming at the finish line . . .<br />
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Here I come at last. That one little girl is awful excited to see me. </div>
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Does that even count as running? I guess so. I look pretty tired. I can't believe I didn't pose with my beer shirt at the finish with a stone beer in my hand. I won't make that same mistake again. </div>
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<span style="color: lime;">But a lot to improve. Bad form in the last couple of miles not finishing stronger. Faster times through the night aid stations. Better climbing on the long slogs. Better use of my entire leg when I run as my calves were really sore the next day, but the quads and hamstrings not so much. And check your music and charge your batteries! So, overall, a great success with lots of ways to get better. Today, three days later, I’m still hobbling and my feet are too swollen to get into shoes, but that’s relatively par for the course. I will hopefully get in a few miles this weekend and then start thinking about fun adventure runs for the Fall and Winter to keep me focused on training into the Spring when I’ll ramp it up again. HUGE HUGE thanks to Erica who is an absolute rock for me out there. Listening to her tell goofy stories about dogs at the aid stations while I wolf down whatever treat she has prepared gives me strength she’ll never even know about. She spends hours and hours waiting (or in this case not waiting) for me to come in for 5 minutes, and then drives to the next station to do it again. Deeser, you are the best. Big thanks to Gonzo for the intel and to Gonzo and Mary for the psych up video that made me laugh every time I thought of it and to everyone else who wished me luck, spent some time on the trails training with me, or sent a few good wishes and thoughts my way. I needed every one of them and all of you to achieve this. Until next time, cheers and thanks for reading!</span></div>
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CHEERS!</div>
BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-500374974356791112011-05-24T08:09:00.000-07:002011-05-24T15:05:20.442-07:00THE LEFTOn Sunday I ran the Bishop High Sierra 100K. This race consists of a 20 mile, 50k, 50 mile, and 100k distance. Looking for a 50, this was the race that fit my schedule. However, given my rule that you have to run the longest distance offered at any race, it was 100k or bust.<br /><br />Erica had once again agreed to crew me, so we got to Bishop on Thursday evening and settled in. One great thing about the race is that it is the focus of the town for the week. Everyone knows about the races, and I was told that this is the second biggest event in Bishop behind Mule Days, which as everyone knows is THE thing to do in the Eastern Sierra. I found that the people fell all over themselves to help you and make you feel welcome. For that reason alone, I would suggest the run to anyone thinking about it. It made you feel pretty special.<br /><br />After scouting the course on Friday and throwing down a couple of Erict Schat turkey sandwiches (don't miss this place if you go) it was off to the briefing dinner. As I sat down, I started chatting with the people at my table. Through the course of the conversation, I found out that two of them knew Scotty Railton. Of course they did. I swear to God . . . Then it was off for a good night's sleep before a 5 AM wakeup.<br /><br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610302953400928802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E8atEVzUGYw/TdvMz7vJiiI/AAAAAAAAAdc/cJ6x-5Ucy7o/s400/bj%2Bpre%2Brace.jpg" border="0" />At the race start</p><br /><p>The race course started at 4500 feet, climbed to 9500 feet, doodled around 8000 feet or so for a while, then dropped back down to 4500 feet at the 48.5 mile mark, where you could turn right down the downhill 1.5 miles for home and a 50 mile finish, or make "THE LEFT" which brought you on a 12 mile out and back over a 900 foot climb each way before the 1.5 mile home stretch to earn the 100k finish. It was fear of THE LEFT that motivated me throughout the race. </p><br /><p><br />At 6 AM sharp, we were off. The race started out easy enough with sandy rollers around the base of the Tungsten Hills for about 5 miles before the climbing started in earnest. It was hard to set a good rhythm as with all the different racers out there, it was hard to settle in with a pack traveling at your speed. Coming out of the CDF aid station, where the serious climbing started, I settled into an easy rhythm of running for 2 minutes, hiking for a minute on the sustained but gentle uphill. The climb would be about 5,000 feet over the next 15 miles, so it was largely mellow, but hard to figure out whether I should be running or walking. In the end, I think I paced it pretty well for me. </p><br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610302529411851538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AsFX5NJQ75g/TdvMbQQRpRI/AAAAAAAAAdE/dfLstdZEVm4/s400/morning%2Bclimb%2Blooking%2Bwest.JPG" border="0" /> View of the climb after the 5 mile mark. This grade was fairly consistent from mile 5 to mile 20. The goal of the climb is the left shoulder of the snow covered mountain to the left.<br /></p><br /><div align="left"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610300648559148594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jo1qvJzZhXM/TdvKtxiC_jI/AAAAAAAAAcc/1gO4XeoGz8Q/s400/climb%2Blooking%2Bup%2Bat%2BEdison.JPG" border="0" /> Another view of the climb, but from further up. Again, the goal can be seen in the lefthand side of the picture, just beneath the snowfield.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610301334053333522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--MGATTSaZrY/TdvLVrMmKhI/AAAAAAAAAck/KArIWrGhRN0/s400/goat%2Bclimb%2Bin%2Bthe%2Brocks.JPG" border="0" /> An unusually steep section of the climb. Most of the first 10 miles of the climb was fairly mellow, if rocky and consistent.<br /><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610303603767079746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8xnNVLDEYT4/TdvNZyihc0I/AAAAAAAAAeM/GJoU0zcCfKg/s400/headed%2Bout%2Bof%2Bbuttermilk.jpg" border="0" /> Here I am running out of the Buttermilk aid station, about mile 11 or so.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610302962302957362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IxZpWGSRagI/TdvM0c5jtzI/AAAAAAAAAdk/Bxn_m0JMp9k/s400/buttermilk%2Btree.jpg" border="0" /> Another view of Mt. Tom, I believe, with dead tree for visual oomph.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610302966259692610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c02vfxz7-60/TdvM0ro6tEI/AAAAAAAAAds/5-8ZD051FRQ/s400/buttermilk%2Bview.jpg" border="0" /> Still climbing . . .<br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left">Finally, after climbing for a number of hours through open exposed scrub, we came into some trees where the trail kicked up a notch from the Edison Loop aid station to the turnaround. This out and back (semi-loop) section of the overall out and back climbed up from about 8000 to 95oo feet in 3 miles and then turned around, coming back to the aid station on a different trail. At the aid station, instead of doing the big climb, the 50K folks turned around, leaving only the 50 and 100 milers. Unfortunately, this is where my stomach started to go south. I lost everything I tried to put in at the aid station only steps up the trail. Uh oh. Temps were still cool, probably in the 50's, but I knew I was sweating and losing salt, and I couldn't get anything to go down. Welcome to running at altitude. I started to put it into good hiking gear here, as this was the steepest of the climbing yet, and passed a few people on the way up. From this point forward, I would pass 7 or 8 people and only get passed by 1, so that tells me my pacing was pretty good. At the top of the climb, we punched a hole in our number and turned around for our first significant downhill of the race. WHEW! I was ready for some steady running, and glad that we skipped this climb on the way back.<br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610302539377394802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZYIEAc1AdII/TdvMb1YPxHI/AAAAAAAAAdM/ZrZ3r0wYck0/s400/punching%2Bmy%2Bnumber.JPG" border="0" /> On top, at the turnaround! Finally!<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610301342993582354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JFKpvfRB2Jk/TdvLWMgHiRI/AAAAAAAAAc0/ZsyCrjhhI30/s400/looking%2Bdown%2Bat%2Bbuttermilk.JPG" border="0" /> On the way back down. You can see where the 11 mile aid station is at the left-hand side of the fin of rock. The 5 mile aid station is close to the green fields you can see in the valley. That's a long way up! </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="left">On the way up, we had navigated 4 or 5 significant snow fields, and those were a lot more difficult on the way down. There was one especially difficult one that had a steep descent where I fell and slid down on my butt. The lady running the small aid station at the bottom of the snowfield had no problem believing I was a Florida native transplanted to San Diego. The rest of the descent was fairly uneventful. Back down at 8,000 feet, there was now a 6 mile out to the farthest part of the course and then 6 miles straight back. This section would turn out to have 4 significant steep climbs and 4 descents, broken up by an aid station halfway in between. Good thing Erica was there to crew in the middle. I was feeling pretty tuckered and nice to see a friendly face. Off I went through the final 2 outward climbs out with spaghetti o's in hand. Erica waved me a fond farewell. And there was a new member of the crew this year. Erica brought her dog, Killer, along. His contribution, from as far as I can tell, was eating items that other runners dropped on the ground. For a team to be successful, everyone has to know their role . . . </div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">Finally I got to the Bishop Creek Lodge turn around. That meant, being an out and back, that I had to go back over those same 4 climbs. But they were much easier on the way back, not only because they were less steep, but you also knew you were working your way back down.<br /><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div align="left"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rrp0xdz8Cyw/TdvNY6JOS7I/AAAAAAAAAd8/kQhPkbFwoI4/s1600/coming%2Binto%2Bbishop.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610303588628581298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rrp0xdz8Cyw/TdvNY6JOS7I/AAAAAAAAAd8/kQhPkbFwoI4/s400/coming%2Binto%2Bbishop.jpg" border="0" /></a>Headed into Bishop Creek Lodge. There was about a half mile of pavement to run . . . <br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610302547886259906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U2KWRBIO4DQ/TdvMcVE6vsI/AAAAAAAAAdU/KxPT2nIpt1Q/s400/Trail%2Bup%2Bto%2BIntake.JPG" border="0" /> One of the climbs going back towards the base of Edison Loop. A rare piece of singletrack trail.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610303608081923538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-98CZXaYANiM/TdvNaCnQvdI/AAAAAAAAAeU/6zDizl-9hqI/s400/killer%2Bhelping.jpg" border="0" /> Killer is overseeing the proceedings. Thanks for the help, buddy!<br /><br />The run back to Edison Loop went well and after a few miles of rollers, it was off on the downhill. This section went as well as I could have hoped, and I was able to keep a relatively high speed (high for me) as I ticked off the aid stations heading back down towards THE LEFT. One thing I would change was my choice of shoes. I had essentially road shoes on thinking the road would be a lot like California fire roads down near San Diego. Nope. Very rocky and should have had real trail shoes, as the rocks slowed me up in some sections. Live and learn.<br /><br />Finally, several miles past Edison, at what had been the 9 mile aid station on the way up, the course split off for a different trail down to the finish. The only major problem on the way down was another round of vomitting in response to some coke. So, no liquids for a while then either. Also, temps were increasing into the low 80's as we descended, and I was sweating profusely. I could feel the salt caked on my face, but couldn't muster the oomph to take any real food or drink for a good 10 miles or so. And my energy level suffered for it as I started to slow significantly towards the bottom of the descent. Fortunately, Erica was there at several of the aid stations with a kind word and a frozen water bottle. With nutrition problems developing and sore feet and tired legs, I started thinking about THE LEFT. Make the turn for a respectable 50 mile finish and be done with it, or suck it up and get up and over the 12 mile out and back. I came into the 48.5 mile aid station at about 12 and half hours. Here was the crux. Do I drop down or stay out for another 4 hours, 13 miles, and 2000 feet of climbing?<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610303616241497058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gXte4Wlz00A/TdvNahAp8-I/AAAAAAAAAec/NZqeOo8Z7W0/s400/mountain%2Bview%2Bfrom%2B168.jpg" border="0" /> View up from the 168 aid station, approximately mile 46.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ftmflYkaG4U/TdvM1F3RkyI/AAAAAAAAAd0/6VuxoEEPvHs/s1600/coming%2Binto%2B168.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610302973299233570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ftmflYkaG4U/TdvM1F3RkyI/AAAAAAAAAd0/6VuxoEEPvHs/s400/coming%2Binto%2B168.jpg" border="0" /></a> Coming into the aid station. You can see the white flap from my french foreign legion hat flapping in the breeze . . .<br /><br /><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610303598440490050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OT-dGEU2u6Q/TdvNZeskJEI/AAAAAAAAAeE/jfTMVCHlqfY/s400/coming%2Binto%2Btungsten.jpg" border="0" /> Coming into the Mile 48.5 mile aid station. Will I have the courage/stupidity to make THE LEFT?<br /><br />Yes! After a very brief stop, off I trudged, having made a deal with myself earlier that I could walk the whole out and back if I needed to, just so long as I sucked it up to do the distance. The climb up to the Sage Summit aid station was a bear, much longer and steeper than I expected just because I didn't know where I was going. There were a few steep long pitches, and some flats and short downs that I should have ran but didn't because I was mentally low. Finally, I saw the Sage Summit aid station down a short hill and down I went. Those guys got me picked up, filled me up with some broth and pudding (perfect!) and down I went through the infamous switchbacks to go down into the valley to pick up my poker chip. That 2 mile section went well and then another mile back to the base of the switchbacks. I ran almost all of that and was picking up momentum. So far so good. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Now the other section I had heard about and dreaded . . . THE CLIMB. I have to tell you that it wasn't that bad. I had heard terrible things about the climb back to the Sage Summit aid station, but while the first part was steep and sandy, once the switchbacks started, it wasn't bad at all. Coming out of the aid station, night had finally and firmly settled, and I took out my light. The stars were brilliant overhead and in the distance, I watched lightning illuminate the clouds over the White Mountains. An unbelievable sight that made the next 1/2 hour of rollers along the crest fly by until I started my descent back to the finish. All in all, while I was slow going out to the poker chip, I ran fairly strongly coming back. And the image of the tranquil yet turbulent night sky over the Sierras is one that I will keep close for a long time. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Not even stopping at what had been the aid station at THE TURN, I kept on going through the camp and got my 100k finish at 16:23 or so, which was almost exactly what my training had predicted. I would have liked to have been a little faster, but I'm not sure I could have broken 16 for the race on that day, so I was pretty happy. I had a great time visiting with the RD after the race. You cannot ask for a better director. She genuinely loves her race, loves her racers, and loves her town. Her energy is contagious.<br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610303923911532098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3ic8SeWM7f8/TdvNsbK6HkI/AAAAAAAAAek/vRIefZjww6k/s400/erica%2527s%2B100k%2Bpics%2B028.jpg" border="0" /> Chatting with the RD after the race. All the white on my chest and face is dried salt from sweating way too much.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610303929105219986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DPtSbJweq-o/TdvNsuhLgZI/AAAAAAAAAes/0KefjvOzu8I/s400/erica%2527s%2B100k%2Bpics%2B029.jpg" border="0" /> Whew! Glad to be done!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I haven't seen the final statistics, but my understanding is about half the 100k runners either didn't finish or didn't make THE TURN and instead took a 50 mile finish. I think I finished like 30 out of 40 or something like that. I'll check the results when they are posted. All in all, glad I did it, and it was a great challenge. If you are looking for an ass-kicker of a 100k, this is the race for you. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>As a post-script, I piled into the car still in my race clothes and race number, dirty, salt covered and utterly exhausted. As Erica was driving us back to town, we got pulled over by a police officer because the left tail light was out. He came to my side of the window and the following exchange occurred:</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Officer: License and registration.</div><br /><div>Me: Here is the registration. Its my car and the light is my fault. </div><br /><div>Officer (Looking me up and down with his light): Sir, are you one of the crazy people that just ran 62 miles? </div><br /><div>Me: Why, yes sir, I am.</div><br /><div>Officer: Have a nice night sir, and get some rest. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>So being an ultra runner does have its advantages . . . </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Thanks as always to Erica and Killer for crewing, to the great volunteers for staying out there for us, to the RD for putting on a great race, and to the city of Bishop for all of their hospitality. And to Officer Smith for having a little mercy on a very tired runner.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div></div></div></div></div><br /></div>BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-50940220438232872332011-03-04T22:58:00.000-08:002011-03-04T23:13:38.966-08:00Back in BusinessWhoa, a blog post?! It must be getting into training season again. Yep, it is. Welcome back to those who stumble across this again. Its been a long off season. Last I left you, dear reader, I was through with Rim to Rim to Rim and staring an off-season in the face. So, what have I done with my time? Well, not much. I didn't take nearly enough time off, spending just a week not running, and that was only because I was worried about tendonitis. About once a month I did a run of at least 5 hours, so my endurance is OK. I tried to work on speed, but wasn't as dedicated as I should have been. Same old story.<br /><br />So, here we are in March. January brought the birthday run which was 40 miles. It went pretty lousy in that I did 20 miles of PCT with Gonzo from I-8 to Mt. Laguna, but it was a miserable time. I don't know what went wrong - probably not enough drinking or salt, but I hit a major bonk and died. It took a long nap and a lot of mountain dew to get me back on the trails, but eventually I finished my 41 miles. Next year I get to tack another mile on.<br /><br />What else has gone on . . . . I did a snowshoe race up in Lake Tahoe, a 10K, and came in 9th overall and first master (40+). That was pretty cool, even though it was a very small race. Snowshoe racing is fun. I can see getting very used to doing a few of those a year. When we had the big dump of snow last week, I went out for a few hours and had a ball. I may have found my "thing". Also had a great run in Joshua Tree in the snow as well.<br /><br />The other fun thing is that I went and dropped some dough on a really fancy Garmin 410 with heart rate monitor. I'm pretty serious about trying to trim some time off of my runs, and the watch is a cruel taskmaster. I don't want to wear it on every run, but it became time to start being a hardass once and a while. So far, so good. I still need to learn about zone training for the heartrate stuff, but I am enjoying the graphic depictions of my runs. Now if I can just figure out what they mean. I've included some of my runs below. I've also decided that its time for more pavement speed work. I'm reading The Lore of Running, which I've renamed The Bore of Running because it is so freaking dry, which has convinced me I need to do two things - more shorter speedwork and lose weight. So I bought Training Weight, a great book about endurance athletes and weight, and am trying to eat better. So far, pretty good, but could be a lot better.<br /><br />That's all for now. I'll try to post more now that I'm training again and get some pictures out. Here's my graphs for a few of my runs . . .<br /><br /><iframe width="'465'" height="'548'" frameborder="'0'" src="'http://connect.garmin.com:80/activity/embed/69530906'"></iframe><br /><br /><iframe width="'465'" height="'548'" frameborder="'0'" src="'http://connect.garmin.com:80/activity/embed/70101925'"></iframe><br /><br /><iframe width="'465'" height="'548'" frameborder="'0'" src="'http://connect.garmin.com:80/activity/embed/70520024'"></iframe>BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-7360226240065123242010-11-11T17:07:00.000-08:002010-11-12T11:35:05.471-08:00Rim to Rim to RimSo someone once said why climb Mount Everest, and the answer was, "Because its there." This provides the explanation, if there is one, as to why to run the Grand Canyon rim to rim. Running from side to side of one of the natural wonders of the world is awful tempting. But why rim to rim to RIM? Well, when you are on the other side, unless you have someone willing to drive 6 hours to pick you up, you have to haul your carcass back to the other side. So Rim to Rim to Rim is a function of practicality as much as it is anything else. <div><div><div><div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>When I realized I had some vacation time to burn, running Rim to Rim to Rim became a reality. I was fishing for companions, but everyone had other plans, so I knew I would be running on my own. I looked at the most popular routes down and up the canyon as I was going to be running alone and unsupported, so wanted to be assure that if I gave up along the trail that some other hiker would find my sorry carcass. There are two routes on the South Rim. The South Kaibab trail is the steeper and shorter of the two. It is also supposedly the most scenic as it traces a ridge line. The Bright Angel trail is longer with a water stop at least halfway up and more frequent depending on the season. I decided to take South Kaibab down and Bright Angel up to ensure that I saw everything on both trails. If I had to do it again, I would probably go up and down South Kaibab. Before ascending Bright Angel, you run for about 2 to 3 flat miles, which makes the climbs up to the South Rim, once they start, very similar on both trails. And Bright Angel has some pretty scenes, but no open vistas like are supposed to be on South Kaibab. Assuming you can carry enough water, and in late fall you can, South Kaibab is probably the way to go. </div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538726951000509442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 351px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TN2C0QZEjAI/AAAAAAAAAbM/dzKKQ2aa3Kc/s400/south%2Bkaibab%2Btrail%2Bsign.jpg" border="0" />South Kaibab Trailhead a little after 3 AM. I had brought my camera but forgot the memory card, so all pics were taken with my cell phone. I apologize in advance for the so-so quality.<br /><br /><div></div><div>So, fast forward to last Monday at 3 AM. I was standing on the precipice of the South Kaibab trail, a 6.5 mile plunge to the bottom of the canyon. I had a pack which weighed between 5 and 10 pounds with the following:</div><div></div><div> </div><div>4 20 oz. arrowhead water bottles</div><div>rain jacket</div><div>3 turkey sandwiches</div><div>2 pop tarts</div><div>ziploc of chips</div><div>24 packets of roctaine gu</div><div>mints</div><div>ipod</div><div>salt pills and Tylenol</div><div>chart of mileage, elevation, and water availability at landmarks</div><div>cash and credit card for Phantom Ranch for canteen</div><div></div><br /><div>That seems like a lot, but I wasn't sure exactly what I would need, and there wasn't much of a safety net if things went wrong. My main concern was that I had enough food, because it would suck to get really hungry and not have enough to eat. I tried to choose as much salty food as I could knowing that I have trouble with getting salt pills down. Of course one thing I forgot was the memory card to my camera, so that meant the only pics I would have would be the ones taken with my cell phone. Oh well. </div><div></div><br /><div>It was a little chilly as I started down the trail. It was a little after 3 AM, and I was hoping to finish by the time the sun went down between 5:30 and 6 that night. I was in a long sleeve under a short sleeve under a vest with a beenie and gloves as well as compression shorts and regular cargo hiking shorts and my new La Sportivas. The descent was fairly relentless, but went smooth for the first hour or so. It was hard to get a rhythm because of all of the wood and stone barriers that were built in the middle of the trail to divert run off. Once or twice I had to search for the trail, but no mishaps all and all. Until about 4 or 5 miles in when my light started to flicker. Uh oh. It wasn't a battery problem as the light would come back when I would wack it, but soon it would start to flicker again. And with all of this weight, I had chosen not to bring a back up light. Stupid mistake. Nervous about my light, I tried to get down to the bottom of the trail as quickly as possible. On the radio, Art Bell was talking about EVP's which are electronically recorded ghostly voices, enough to keep me focused on the trail and give me the creeps more than once. At one point, I got low enough that I could look behind me on the south rim and see the lights of the lodges up above as well as a single light on the north rim, which I have no idea what it was given the north rim lodge was closed. </div><div></div><br /><div>Finally, I bottomed out at the black bridge over the Colorado River which I crossed relatively quickly and made my way into Phantom Ranch. This is a collection of cabins and a campground surrounding a fully powered canteen. As I ran through, the crew was up cooking breakfast, and I could smell the flapjacks and bacon cooking. Yum. I came up on a worker to ask where the water faucet was and scared the crap out of her as I'm sure she wasn't expecting anyone at 4:30 in the AM wandering around the camp. It had warmed from 35 at the trailhead to about 50 at the ranch, so I stripped off my beanie, longsleve, and gloves and stuffed them in the pack. Knowing the next water was in about 9 miles, I made sure I had 3 full bottles and headed out. </div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538726942083746210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 265px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 351px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TN2CzvLJiaI/AAAAAAAAAas/cMdOwC1euZE/s400/kaibab%2Bbridge.jpg" border="0" /> <div>This is the view of the "black bridge" which ran over the Colorado along the South Kaibab trail. This is much later that day coming out of Phantom Ranch, looking back over Bright Angel Creek. </div></div><div><br /><div>The next part of the run was really nice and gentle along Bright Angel Creek, even if it was gently uphill. I was still running in the dark, with the babbling of the brook calling me along. On either side of me, I could sense great cliffs climbing above me for thousands of feet. The footing on the trail was good, but my light was faltering more and more. That made me determined to try to keep my speed up and hit the south rim again before dark, as rain was supposed to hit that night, meaning an earlier sunset than usual. </div><div></div><br /><div>The 8 or so miles from Phantom Ranch to Cottonwood Campground were gentle but with some steep rollers. It was all runnable, so I ran it, trying to take advantage of my legs while I had them. It was definitely uphill, but very gradual. After coming out of the canyon, I came out into an open boggy area as there was finally enough sun to put away my light. I could make out lots of small cottonwood and other trees with yellow leaves surrendering to the fall. Graceful, rugged red walls soared directly above me to my right, and across the creek, I saw rock walls of red, yellow, and white climbing dauntingly high, dusted with pines that looked like pins from where I stood now, but which would tower above me by the time I arrived. </div><div></div><br /><div>At Cottonwood Campground, campers were just starting to stir. Knowing I would be coming back through there and that it was getting warm, I stashed my rain jacket and warm weather clothes as well as some gu packs behind a tree and pushed on. The mistake was not spreading them out to dry so that all my warm clothes were still wet when I would need them later. </div><div> </div><div>About a mile and a half later, I was at the caretaker cabin, another water fill. This is a ranger station that used to be a private residence. The house looked fairly comfortable, and much to my surprise, even had a basketball hoop in front. Man, I can't beleive I didn't have a ball to shoot. Next time, I'm going to figure something out, even if its bringing a deflated beach ball. From here, it was still 6 or so miles to the top, so I filled all my water bottles, although the morning was still cool and gray clouds were rolling in from the north. </div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538726943618906450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 351px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TN2Cz05KOVI/AAAAAAAAAa0/6vH0-jmfK54/s400/basketball%2Bhoop.jpg" border="0" /> <div>Oh, what a brilliant place for a hoop! And me with no basketball . . . </div><div><br /><div>After the cabin, the trail started climbing in earnest, and the power hiking began. From the cabin to the top, I ran probably 10 to 20 percent of the way up as opposed to the 90 to 95 percent running I had been doing to this point. Its never super steep, but very, very steady. The winds were really strong through here, and I had to take off my hat to keep it from blowing away. I was later told that winds in the Canyon were gusting to 50 mph. I would believe it. </div><div> </div><div>I was hiking quickly when I did hike and soon came to Roaring Springs, which is an incredible sight. This one spring supplies almost all the water for the north rim trails and Bright Angel Creek. The springs literally rip out of the side of the mountain and are framed, at least in Fall, by yellow and red smears of vegitation. Pushing past, I came across my first two hikers of the day who I quickly put in my rear view mirror. Past Roaring Springs, the footing on the trail got a little unsure and the fall if you tripped, precipitous. At one point, the trail actually descended to a bridge which gave a nice break to the climbing legs, but back up it went. Finally I went through a tunnel which I knew meant 2 miles to the top. By this time, I had finished Art Bell, not only the EVP's but his night of Halloween ghost stories, and was onto Jay Mohr hosting the Jim Rome show which provided for a few laughs as I grinded up the last switchbacks. The climb just seemed to go on and on, and you never felt like you were making any progress. </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538726949658415938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 351px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TN2C0LZF00I/AAAAAAAAAa8/jxwUSgknG2g/s400/roaring%2Bsprings.jpg" border="0" /> <div></div><div>A fairly poor shot of Roaring Springs. You really can't appreciate how much water is just gushing out of the side of this mountain unless you see it yourself. </div><div> </div><div>Finally, I saw the sign for the north rim. I walked over and touched it and saw it was 10 AM, almost on the dot. It was about an hour slower than I wanted to run it, but I also wasn't pushing at all, not only because I wanted to "enjoy" the run as much as possible, but I also wanted to make sure I had legs left for the climb out the South Rim. I turned around and headed straight back down the trail as it was cold on top and windy. Fairly anti-climatic. At this point, I had 21 miles and about 6000 feet of climbing on my legs, and I felt like it. I was ready for some downhill. After about a mile down the trail, I found a nice place to stop with a nice view of the canyon. I stopped here and ate a sandwich which I had to force down. The chips tasted good though and I had about half of the pop tart I brought. It was getting harder to take food, but I was being good about taking gels, so things were OK on the fuel front. </div><div></div><br /><div>After about 10 minutes, I hit the trail again. Running downhill felt good, and I started to stretch my legs except the sections with the tricky footing and steep falls which I picked my way through. I ran into a few hikers coming up from Cottonwod Camp on my way down and stopped for a minute or two to answer questions about conditions, etc. At this point, I was onto my book on tape, enjoying Hemmingway's For Whom the Bell Tolls, which is about a bunch of hardasses running around the Spanish Mountains fighting the fascists. Great book. As I passed Roaring Springs, I ran into a couple who had left South Kaibab at 5 and asked to see the bottom of my shoes as they were literally following my footsteps. They were running rim to rim where a friend was picking them up. I wasn't smart enough to think of that, so I pushed on thinking about the giant climb I still had ahead of me. Fairly quickly I was at the Caretaker Cabin again where I filled up one water to get me to Phantom Ranch, again rueing my lack of basketball. </div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538726950848703554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 265px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 351px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TN2C0P04LEI/AAAAAAAAAbE/qXJ33ltpVL4/s400/north%2Brim%2Btrail.jpg" border="0" />This is coming down into the only bit of uphill between the North Rim and the Caretaker Cabin. A pretty typical view of the trail which you can see stretch on for miles in front of/behind you.<br /><div></div><br /><div>After another mile and half, I was back at Cottonwood where I gathered all my cold weather gear. The ranger had found it and taken all of my gels I had left and put them in a metal box, leaving me a note that all food had to be properly stored. I thought that was a little excessive as gels seem extremely non-food like, but not a big deal. Reweighted, I headed down through the bog and into the box. At this point, the run was frankly becoming kind of a grind. It was nice to see the creek which danced jauntily over the rocks next to me, and I was awed by the sheer walls of the canyon in the box, but at the same time, I was too busy looking at my feet to make sure I didn't trip to truly enjoy the vistas, and my energy was starting to wane. </div><div></div><br /><div>Finally, I pulled into Phantom Ranch about 1:20, a little ahead of schedule, meaning I had made up some time on the way down. At the Ranch, I took a break. I tried to use the phone down there to check in, but I wasn't smart enough to figure it out. Oh well. Inside, the canteen was bustling with people staying at the Ranch, many enjoying ice cold Tecates. I bought a lemonade and took a couple of tylenol which helped my aching feet. After sitting for about 20 minutes, it was time to head out again for the big climb back to the South Rim. On the way out, I passed 3 gorgeous mule deer, much darker and grayer than the mule deer in California.</div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538732310323174786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 351px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TN2HsNbKnYI/AAAAAAAAAbU/mFwoSk04-Jk/s400/bright%2Bangel%2Bbridge.jpg" border="0" />The Silver bridge which connects Phantom Ranch to the river trail over the Colorado River.<br /><br /><div>But the climb didn't come for a while. First, I ran across the silver bridge which leads to the river trail. Then it was another rolling mile and half to the Bright Angel trail. As I turned up the trail which runs along Pipe Creek, the grade turned upwards. There were 4 or 5 trail crossings which required agile stepping or wet feet. I chose the former. The trail at this point was very runnable, but I didn't have the energy or the desire. Maybe if it were during a race, but for my purposes, I was pretty done. As I moved along, a heavy shower hit with big cold drops. It felt good as the day had warmed up into the upper 60's. As I left the creek, the climb to the south rim began in earnest. Up and up and up it went. I quickly drained my water which I had refilled at Phantom Ranch. I knew there was a refill at Indian Gardens, but it seemed never to come. In retrospect, I thought it was 4 miles from Phantom Ranch when it was 6 miles. That's what I get for not looking at the chart I had brought for this very purpose. </div><div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538732311315211890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 265px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 351px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TN2HsRHr5nI/AAAAAAAAAbc/GfHSKIu0Vls/s400/indian%2Bgardens.jpg" border="0" />Spring out of the side of the canyon walls along Pipe Creek.<br /><br /><div>Finally, the trail leveled out, and Indian Gardens came, an oasis of shade trees in various colors with a peaceful brook running right through the middle. I refilled my water and headed up for the last push. I knew from here it was 4.5 very steep miles back to home base, so I prepared myself to push up 3 segments of a mile and half each. I looked at where the trail went, and all I saw was a 600 foot vertical stone wall. How the hell was I going to get past that?! Further up I saw some short switchbacks, the Devil's Corkscrew, way up by the rim. How the hell was I going to get up there?! Well, I guess I was going to find out. </div><div></div><br /><div>As I looked back from where I came, I saw a storm obscuring the north rim and the river. Uh oh. That didn't look good. I made it up to the 3 mile resthouse, 1.5 miled past Indian Gardens, and temperatures had lowered considerably, and the winds had picked up to gusts of abot 50 mph again. After a 3 minute stop, I kept going, knowing that now I was not only racing the dark but the storm as well. I quickly lost that race as not 5 minutes after leaving the rest house I got nailed. I could see my breath as the rain hit hard. I put on my rainjacket, and quickly found it was utterly ineffective. Thanks for nothing, Sierra Designs. Within 10 minutes, I was soaked as temperatures dropped even further and the winds contined to hammer. My cold weather stuff which I had not dried earlier was worthless. Not a good combination, and I was freezing cold for my lack of foresight and crappy raingear. As I steadily climbed through switchbacks, the rain mixed with sleet. At this point, I was fairly miserable and just wanted the thing to be done, but I knew at the rate I was moving, I still had at least an hour to go. I was doing some running through here mixed with power hiking just to try to keep my temperature up. However, my legs were pretty trashed, and I occasionally found myself losing concentration and literally staggering uphill, a mistake of temperature and failing to take any food for the last hour and a half. </div><div></div><br /><div>At the 1.5 mile house, I again ducked into the structure and took a break out of the wind, gulping down a quick gel for some energy. As soon as I stopped moving, I started shivering uncontrolably, and I was rapidly losing light, so I quickly just headed back out on the trail to finish the climb. The trail finally evened out a bit, and the rain and sleet turned to snow, making it much more bearable as I wasn't actively getting wet anymore. I was nervous as I was losing the last bit of light. I tried to open my pockets to get my flashlight, but my numb fingers weren't responding very well. I finally got it out, and it faded in and out, occasionally going out altogether for 3 or 4 seconds at a time. But above me I saw the lights of the lodges fairly close, so my spirits were raised as I staggered through slippery mud that stole 1 step for every 2 or 3 I would take. Then I struggled across a slick, icy and snowy trail, watching to make sure I didn't lose my footing. The winds hadn't abated, and I don't think was ever as cold as I was for the last mile or so of that climb.<br /></div><div>I went through a couple of short tunnels and then there it was! Artifical lighting, I have never been so glad to see you. I stumbled up into the Bright Angel Lodge a little before 6. I looked at the thermometer outside as I walked in. 21 degrees. It had been 65 at Phantom Ranch just 4 hours and 3800 feet ago! I threw my pack down and literally laid out in front of the roaring fire they had in the lobby, stripping off as many of my wet clothes as I could take off with a clear conscience. As several well dressed patrons of the lodge walked by, they cast glances at the muddy bedraggled figure laying prostrate in front of the fireplace. A few asked what I had been doing. When I told them, most shook their heads in disbelief or disgust. Probably both. </div><div></div><br /><div>Having warmed up, I had to then walk about a half mile to my hotel. I gathered all of the stuff not wanting to put the wet stuff back on and then headed out across the parking lot in shorts and my short sleeved shirt. Man was that ridiculously cold. I walked into my hotel room which was already warm. Oh did that feel good. Then the warm bath. Even better!</div><div></div><br /><div>Overall, I'm glad I did it, but it wasn't as great as I thought it would be. As I was in the Canyon most of the time, you don't get the spectacular views as if you were looking over the rim. There were lots of pretty scenes inside, but the run was mostly a grind up either side of the canyon, which didn't entail much running. Good to cross off the life list, but probably not something I would do again unless someone wanted me to go with them. At the end, I just really wanted to be done. Of course, the weather had a lot to do with that. </div><div> </div><div></div><div>As for how hard it was, its hard to judge because I wasn't racing and had full training weeks leading into it, but I would say it was not as hard as Jemez, but harder than most 50 milers, and it was about 5 miles less! I was pretty sore the next day and am still not ready to run 3 days later. Next goal - Doughnut Man! More on that on Saturday. </div></div></div></div></div></div>BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-71571966377042921552010-08-31T06:47:00.000-07:002010-09-05T10:17:44.566-07:00Tall Trees. Tough Trails. Jerky Owls.<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TIPPsUfkucI/AAAAAAAAAak/bRJi48Wbytc/s1600/spotted+owl.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513478729153952194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 206px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TIPPsUfkucI/AAAAAAAAAak/bRJi48Wbytc/s400/spotted+owl.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">My nemesis!!! Or at least he looked a lot like this . . .<br /><br />Most race reports begin with something regarding the crack of dawn. However, I knew nothing about dawn on race day because I was snoring away in my hotel room as the race mercifully didn't start until 10 AM. Finally around 8 AM I woke up, ate a bunch of bananas and fruit bars and made my way to Easton for the race start. After a quick 9 AM meeting, there was some general milling about, some pancake eating, a lot of water drinking, and some last minute sitting. The weather was going to be great, high's in the mid 60's with little chance for rain. At 9:55 we enjoyed the Canadian and US national anthems, the latter played on a baritone by a runner in a trucker hat and long colorful socks. Yes, this was going to be a different race.<br /><br /></div><div align="left"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511973992236426978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH53JGpxpuI/AAAAAAAAAZg/YUoBWLBNHOU/s400/DSC01003.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div>The view at the start. Hello, Easton! </div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511974705296199586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH53ynAeT6I/AAAAAAAAAZo/hWCYHwKXQRs/s400/DSC01005.JPG" border="0" /> These are all the supplies that get hauled out to the various aid stations for the race. Tell me these RD's and volunteers aren't the best!<br /><div></div><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511970867720006386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH50TO7AqvI/AAAAAAAAAXo/w8xB_nq-l9w/s400/P1030302.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div></div><div></div><div>In addition to the above, they haul out all of these drop bags to the various locations. </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511970846655937666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH50SAc8fII/AAAAAAAAAXY/iPZpge-U4tk/s400/P1030295.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div>Warming up for the national anthem? I hope he didn't run with that thing . . .<br /></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511970856578405938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH50SlapVjI/AAAAAAAAAXg/Z45ufxi2Jpo/s400/P1030300.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div>I particularly respected the fact that the Canadian flag was mounted on a hockey stick. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511970835198437522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH50RVxQ6JI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/cE_ipPZSo6E/s400/P1030287.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div>I don't exactly look ready for a race, do I? More like a saunter . . . </div><br /><div></div><div></div><div>At 10 AM we were off, headed down a long gravel road. The beginning of the run was the usual nervous chatter as each runner found their place in the pack and a little bit of rhythm. After about 2 miles, the grind began as course tilted upwards. I found myself behind my buddy Mike, which told me I was way ahead of where I should be. We chatted a lot as we transitioned from rutted fire road to the single track of Goat Peak. The climb went by relatively quickly, and before I knew it, we had hit the top. I had been thinking about the climb for weeks, and with it under my belt, I realized I could have a pretty good day because it went by a lot faster than expected.<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511971511302326034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH504sc_hxI/AAAAAAAAAXw/m0bIe2Bb9uQ/s400/P1030307.JPG" border="0" /> Get out of the way! Here I come . . . </div><br /><div><br />After some rolling stuff, we hit our first real aid station and a cranking downhill where I hooked up with a fellow So Cal guy from Hunnington Beach who was a complete hardass having run just about every major race you can imagine. From somewhere behind me, Mike came blazing past and up the next climb of 1500 feet to the PCT, with a quick stop at the aid station at Blowout Mtn. on the way.<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511975795472861058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH54yEO2B4I/AAAAAAAAAZ4/YY_aHoqUWKA/s400/DSC01015.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>Looking back somewhere around mile 20 at Cole Butte, which was at mile 10 of the course. We ran down those switchbacks, then up a similar set to get to Blowout Mountain, which was the mile 15 aid station. </div><br /><div><br />Almost every race report I read of Cascade Crest lauds the PCT section of the trail, which starts about mile 16 or so, and now I understand why. It is miles and miles of mostly runnable, cushioned trail, with some rocky sections thrown in during the clear cuts. The section from Blowout Mountain to Tacoma Pass was a ball, with lots and lots of fun downhill where you could just put it in cruise control. Somewhere in this section, I heard the sound of gravel falling, and down came the cliff came rolling a pica, which is like a little rabbit, coming to stop right on the trail in front of me upside down. He quickly righted himself and stared nervously at me. Don't worry little fella. I have other things to do than mess with you. Too funny to see an animal wipe out much like I was doing all over these trails. I ended up with 3 or 4 good falls before it was all said and done.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511975807572476642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH54yxTnguI/AAAAAAAAAaA/MF97rtBPgKg/s400/DSC01018.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><br /><div>Typical section of trail in the trees . . . </div><br /><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511974712394196402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH53zBcxJbI/AAAAAAAAAZw/AgpipFCuRAw/s400/DSC01011.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><br /><div>If there were no clouds, you would see Mt. Ranier. You can just see the base above the ridgeline. </div><br /><br /><div>Somewhere in this section, I dropped in with John, who was going for his fifth finish, and David, who was going for his fourth. I sucked information from both those guys. The conversation was flowing lightly as we pushed through the forest. Both John and David were behind their normal pace, but I still felt like I was a little faster than I had any right to be. But everyone told me to push during the first afternoon because once darkness hit, it was going to be a long slow night, and by the second dawn, you were in a series of climbs which made it difficult to gain ground. So push I did.<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511971520656894770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH505PTS6zI/AAAAAAAAAX4/XHymhcPAXlo/s400/P1030318.JPG" border="0" />Where is that guy? Volunteer and/or crew looking down the trail at incoming runners at Tacoma Pass aid station. Crews do a lot of waiting, wondering when their guy or gal is going to come bursting out of the woods demanding gels and body glide.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511971531932999314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH5055TunpI/AAAAAAAAAYA/2SBxVWKwZTA/s400/P1030319.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div>Hey, who's that guy? Took you long enough . . . </div><br /><br /><div>As we talked, I realized that David was the same guy who I finished Jemez with. Ha! When you are running these things, you rarely see anyone's face, just the back of their legs if they are in front of you or just the trail if they are behind you. Anyways, he and John and I worked as a team, the three of us pushing each other along for miles and miles. I was happy to pull into Tacoma Pass where Erica was waiting with my new ultra secret weapon - Spaghetti-o's. Yes, that childhood treat that everyone loved. I have a problem getting enough salt in these races because I can't take salt pills easily, so this was my solution - cold, right out of the can. And it worked great. Packed with sodium and easy to swallow, they went right down, and I ate a whole can during the climb out of the aid station. In fact, I probably ate too much, which is difficult to do during these races. And I can say throughout the race, I had no cramping problems, although I attribute the cold weather for some of that as well.<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511972102010187426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH51bFAuLqI/AAAAAAAAAYg/w3cBdW9jei4/s400/P1030353.JPG" border="0" />The breakfast of champions. Somehow, I don't think that this is what they are serving the Olympic marathoners this year . . . </div><br /><br /><div>My initial goal was to make Meadows Mountain at Mile 41 by darkness or a little after, and I got there about 15 minutes after busting out my light. Somewhere David got a head of the group, but as I busted out of the aid station, burgeoned again by Spaghetti'0's from Erica and some soup, I knew John was behind me somewhere. I also knew per our pattern in the last 15 miles that he would spend more time in the aid station and catch up to me somewhere on the trail. Sure enough, after about 15 minutes, he came barrelling past me, and I waved him on feeling I couldn't keep his pace as the thick dark of a northwestern mountain night took hold. But about 10 minutes down the trail, I passed him back as he adjusted his pack, and we fell in to a rhythm again, not really saying anything, but at least me taking comfort from another light in the darkness.<br /><br />There was lots of stumbling on rocks and some nasty stubbed toes, but generally the night moved along. I was soon at Olalie Meadows where I wished a quick hello to Scott who is the RD for White River as well as the aid station captain. Not wishing to upset my cooperating stomach by experimenting with one of his famous pirogies, I kept going over what the race director had said would be the hardest section of the course, leaving John to enjoy the hospitality of the aid station. After a very rocky downhill on the PCT, it was up on a service road. And up. And up. The RD joked that he sent us up to the top of the ski hill so we could enjoy the view, even though when we got there, it would be pitch black. Let me tell you, that hill goes on forever. Its never super steep, but steady, and everytime you think you are close to the top, it goes up and around another bend.<br /><br />Over the top, I enjoyed the view of, well, nothing but pitch black as I looked straight down a ski slope. Here we go. Jemez again . . . . I had heard last year's descent was an impossible slide down. This time they routed us down some of the ski slope which was literally baby step after baby step with a steep decline, lots of loose rocks, and no trail. But then we switched over to another slope which was more runnable. As I made my way down, here came another set of lights. It was John again! Taking some strength from the company, I made my way onto a mountain bike trail with lots of broken bridges and obstacles that looked like they could dump someone into the drink pretty fast. Finally, it was out onto some paved roads, John and I running step for step towards the aid station in the distance. We finally pulled in together around 12:45 AM at mile 53. And there were Scotty and Erica! YES! Time for the halfway recoup. I was a little nervous because I was pretty trashed and everyone had said the second part of the course was harder than the first.<br /><br />My vest had broken, so I quickly changed into a new one and pulled a hat over my head. Somewhere I had misplaced my longsleeve, so it was going to be a chilly night. It was probably in the low 40's at the station, and probably mid 30's up on the ridge where I was heading. Oh well, just had to keep moving. I had my gloves and hat to keep me warm. I ate a grilled cheese and Scotty handed me some "soup" that ended up being hot chocolate. Oops. Oh well, I probably wasn't going to sweat much in these conditions, so as long as it was warm, it didn't need to be salty. You just can't get upset at these races about things like the long sleeve or not having the right soup or there's a hill you didn't expect or whatever or you will mentally break down. You have to be able to just go with the flow and make the best of what's around you. If you can stay positivie, you will likely finish. That's definitely my biggest attribute at these things. Its certainly not my running ability . . .<br /><br />I had planned to walk out of that aid station, but there was a little bit of downhill and some lights ahead, so I put it in granny low and started to run. John had left the aid station ahead of me, so I knew there was no chance of catching him again, and I just found my own rhythm. As it was a paved road with a bright moon, I kept my light off and made my way the best I could, proud to be running most of the section, and I even passed a few people. In fact, from this point forward, I would pass 15 or so people and only get passed by 1 person that I could remember, which is a good sign that I paced correctly. Given that I ended up finishing about 10 from the end, I have to assume at least some of those people dropped . . .<br /><br />As the paved road turned to gravel and I hit the 1800 foot climb to Kachelus Ridge, I suddenly felt my head being pounded and scraped up from behind and a buffeting of wings. I screamed and started throwing my arms around. Whirling about, I saw an owl hovering a foot away, talons at the ready. What the hell?! I watched it swoop away as I hurried up the hill. I put my hand up to the back of my head, and it came away bloody from the owl attack. As I wrote earlier - what the HELL?! As if 21,000 feet of climbing over tortorous rocky trails wasn't enough, they sicked the wildlife on you as well? I thought I had prepared myself for everything the course would have to offer, but I hadn't subjected myself to any avian assaults. My bad! I laughed as I climbed up, picturing the RD with a little remote control hiding behind the bushes . . .<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511972139692033618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH51dRYxhlI/AAAAAAAAAY4/cIKE5SQnFEk/s400/P1030379.JPG" border="0" />My noggin bearing the results of the owl attack. The talons cut straight through my hat!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Heart pumping now, I moved up the hill as quickly as I could. I saw a few lights in the distance and used them as rabbits to keep me motivated. After a long climb, I pulled into the top of the ridge at mile 60. To my surprise, David was there, and so was John! Glad to see them again, David and I pulled out and headed down the hill. After a few miles, my knees were really killing me from all the agressive downhill on the hardpacked road, and it definitely cut my pace. But David and I generally talked and pushed each other down the hill, pulling into the aid station at mile 67. I took some extra time here to get metally prepared from the aptly named "Trail from Hell", which consists of a 1/2 mile or so bushwhack along a steep hillside over fallen trees followed by an undulating rooty and rocky challenge along the shore of the lake.<br /><br />John and David beat me out of the aid station thinking I was ahead and they were going to catch up as usual. I headed out on my own and hit the "trail" which was just random footsteps along a 30 degree muddy slope. I was moving slow, trying to keep to the side of the hill, climbing over downed trees and following from glow stick to glow stick when suddenly the hill gave way on me. I slid about 30 feet down the side of the hill bounding off of a few trees on the way down. Ouch. I put my flashlight in my mouth and used all 4's to climb back to where I saw the next glow stick, literally moving 2 steps forward, sliding one step back. Once I made it back, I put my ipod on to listen to Jay Mohr doing the Jim Rome Show which I had taped a few months backed and saved just for this trail, knowing I would need something to keep the spirits up. Disappointed to have lost time, but not wanting another fall, I pushed it carefully over the next few hundred yards . . .<br /><br />Once I hit the actual trail, darkness was starting to fade, and I have to say that I really liked this part, probably more than others did. I love short steep climbs and technical stuff, as it suits my build. Its also much easier, I'm sure, in the early gray of the morning, which is when I was there, where you can see the obstacles ahead of you and plan the best way to assault them, as opposed to the middle of the night where you need your light to illuminate every little step. Before long, I had caught David, and I would even occasionally see John in the distance around the lakeshore. We finally pulled into the aid at Mile 73, and I was ahead of schedule, having done the trail from hell in about 2 hours and 15 minutes, or about 15 minutes faster than I planned, even with that epic fall (or fail as the case may be!).<br /><br />A quick trip to the trees to answer nature's call put me way behind John and David on the long grind out of Mineral Creek, and I wouldn't see them again until the end. What I've found at these races is that I always lose ground on the long gradual climbs, and this race wasn't any different as I trailed and ulitmately lost touch with a large group going up the 7 mile, 3,000 foot climb to No Name Ridge. At mile 75, Erica was waiting with spaghettio's, and she walked up part of the trail with me, taking my cold weather clothes and getting me set for a long day still. I knew now barring disaster that I would finish, but I could sniff a PR if I could keep it going, which would be something to set a PR on this course. Unlike most ultras that start early, because this one starts at 10, I still had an entire day of running instead of being done in the morning. With that in mind, I pushed as hard as I could on the road climb, which wasn't that bad at all, if a little long. There were some nice views along the way and soon I was at the station at Mile 80. I threw down a banana pancake and some ginger ale and another new favorite, apple sauce! Brilliant idea, No Name Ridgers! I had two of those as I pushed for the Needles.<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511971539425261842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH506VOBeRI/AAAAAAAAAYI/rTVi_0uTPW0/s400/P1030343.JPG" border="0" />On the long climb out of Mineral Creek at about Mile 75. The slope wasn't too bad; it was just a slog.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511973416788985698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH52nm8ah2I/AAAAAAAAAZY/Akm4QiVBuj4/s400/P1030342.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div>Runners up in the distance. I could not keep up with them and got dropped. Long climbs are on my "Needs Improvement" list. </div><br /><br /><div>The Needles are a series of steep short climbs, maybe 1/4 mile for the shortest to 1/2 mile for the longest which are as infamous and dreaded in Cascade Crest lore as the Trail from Hell. Definitely the steepest part of the course, but as I said about the trail from Hell, I tend to do well on short steep bits as they require brute strength, which, being a big guy, I have some of. My goal was to make it through all the needles without stopping to catch my breath, and I would make it. Small mission accomplished.<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511975825285153666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH54zzSpg4I/AAAAAAAAAaI/o2B2qXTLIiE/s400/DSC01020.JPG" border="0" />View of an Alpine lake from somewhere along the Needles.<br /></div><br /><div>The second needle was Thorpe Mountain - and out n' back - and I was told to head up the mountain and grab a ticket to show I was there and come back. It was a 1/2 mile steep switchbacking climb that I was glad to crest. As I reached the bottom, I realized I had forgotten to grab a ticket! Oh no! Wait a minute, what's this in my pocket? Thank God, I did get a ticket. I was starting to lose it. Time to get to the finish. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The section from Thorpe to French Cabin actually went pretty quick as I powered through the 2 needles there and hit the second to last section of the course. I have to say that the Needles weren't all that bad. Yes, they are steep, but they are manageable if you have any legs left. Just one foot after the other and you are through them pretty quick. </div><br /><br /><div>At the Cabin I tried some bacon and quickly coughed it back up. Oops. Time to get moving and get this thing over with. I knew, barring disaster, I had a finish and likely a PR. This proved to be the most difficult part of the race for me, because knowing this, I just wanted it to be done, but I still had 12 miles and several hours of running to cover to actually get there. It made the last part of the race seem to last forever.<br /><br />From the Cabin to finish was downhill with one last needle to get over pretty much right out of the aid station. From there, it was a lot of rooty downhill that seemed to take forever. I thought I would be down a lot faster than I actually was. It was fun trail, but my legs were shot, so I was struggling just to get through, and mentally, I just wanted to be done. I passed a few folks in here, but was getting frustrated as I saw time slipping away. I was so close, I didn't want to give a PR up now. Plus, I had a shot at sub-31 hours which would be great. I tried to power along as best I could. I ran into a couple of guys with a map. How far to the trailhead? 1.9 miles, they said. Great. Then, 20 minutes later, I ran into a race volunteer. How far to the trailhead? 2.5 miles, she said. Not so great. I looked at where we had to get down to, and knew that the race volunteer was correct. Oh, man. I looked at my watch. Get moving!<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511972095200562418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH51arpLjPI/AAAAAAAAAYY/sMPEUfHytrg/s400/P1030352.JPG" border="0" /><br />A particluarly smooth section of the last trail . . . </div><br /><br /><div>Finally getting spit out the bottom, my legs were rubbery and my stomach was rumbling, which happenned a lot during the race. It was wild in that I was stripped so raw, my stomach would rumble, I would eat a gu, and I could literally feel my body resupplying. One more cup of spaghetti-o's . . .<br /><br />I told Erica that I was going to walk it in from there. It was 3:30, I was mentally fried from that last section that never seemed to end, and I had 1.5 hours to cover the last 5 miles to get sub-31. Well after eating some and walking some bumpy gravelly stuff, I felt pretty good and didn't want to go out like a chump, so picked up the pace and started "running" again, which at this point was a distorted lurching motion, kind of like Frankenstein going out for a jog. But it was faster than walking, so off I would go, literally counting down in my head, making myself run for 5 minutes on, 1 minute off. 300, 299, 298, etc. until zero when I started the whole process again. Soon I was off trails and onto pavement, which meant I was a little over a mile away. I could see the overpass that was near the finish, but it seemed like it was so far! Oh well, keep it up. 300, 299, 298 . . .<br /><br />I passed a deer who was grazing next to the road just before coming back into town, and then it was up onto a trail next to the railroad tracks. I could see the finish! There were a couple of guys yelling and waving. I yelled back and started pumping my fist to myself, listening to the Clash and pushing the last 1/4 mile or so to look good for the ladies at the finish! I recognized one of these guys as Scotty as I got closer. But they were still jumping up and down, and yelling, more than I thought was warranted, but OK. Thanks guys, I guess. Just then I sensed movement over my shoulder as a runner came around to pass me. (At least it wasn't the owl!)<br /><br />I don't consider myself a very competitive guy, but something deep inside me tripped and I dug into my guts to try to hold this guy off. I mean, who really cares? But I guess I did. As I turned it up a notch, I glanced over my shoulder and he was still there. Damn it, that first burst should have snapped him! I went WAY deep and found one more gear. I still have no idea where that came from, but I was able to muster just enough to keep him off, finishing with a "leap" and a fist pump. I feel like a fool now, battling for 69th place against a guy who was at least 10 years my senior and undoubtedly a better runner, but nice that I could find a little something really deep when I felt like I had to. He was a great sport and was very gracious about my idiocy when I should have just crossed the line together with him which to my mind is more in the spirit with the sport. Oh well. lesson learned, and it makes for a funny memory. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511972116396863922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH51b6mxcbI/AAAAAAAAAYo/MskM4bnFdTI/s400/P1030363.JPG" border="0" /> About 500 yards from the finish, head down, just trying to make it in. When suddenly . . .<br /><div></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511973404027652354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH52m3Z4CQI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/hlsuYklzXdI/s400/P1030364.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div>Ah, crap! Where did he come from. C'mon now, dig for something!</div><div></div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511969107349755186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH5ysxCCVTI/AAAAAAAAAXA/zyMK-Vu1NN0/s400/Cutthroat%2520Cascade%2520167%5B1%5D.JPG" border="0" /> Hey, it looks like I'm actually running as I try to hold him off! Or that I'm pulling an invisible tractor . . . <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511973396461096242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH52mbN3jTI/AAAAAAAAAZI/S0C8KXWRFJ0/s400/P1030365.JPG" border="0" />Whew! That was tough! Better get out of the way there, camera guy! </div><br /><br /><div>So final results were 30:32, a PR on any 100 mile course for me by 40 minutes (and only 5 seconds faster than the guy behind me!). This is a brutal course, much harder than Grand Teton and San Diego, not as hard as Wasatch, but comparable. There were pleny of beautiful views, supportive volunteers, and fantastic runnable territory. As the shirt said, "Tall Trees. Tough Trails". Put it on your list for a beautiful, well-0rganized, well-supported challenge.<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511970826242036258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH50Q0Z5EiI/AAAAAAAAAXI/qFPCXF6r60w/s400/Cutthroat%2520Cascade%2520169%5B1%5D.JPG" border="0" />My belt buckle. Me: "I ran 100 miles for this?" Charlie: "Why yes, yes you did". Erica looks on proudly (?) in the background. She is the best crew EVER. I recommend her to any ultra runners looking for a crew person . . . </div><br /><div>Thanks again to Charlie the race director, all of the volunteers who helped out, Erica for being the ace crew that she always is, and to all my fellow racers who make the sport what it is. Hopefully I'll be running again by the weekend and start thinking about what's next, but right now, its all about savoring the buckle for a little while. Thanks for reading . . .<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511972130078117026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TH51ctkozKI/AAAAAAAAAYw/tyyvMNhCDO8/s400/P1030368.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><br /><div align="left">CHEERS!! </div>BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-41454012867068156332010-08-16T09:43:00.000-07:002010-08-16T09:54:23.379-07:00Last training . . .Trying to squeeze in a few quality runs before Cascade Crest. On Wednesday, I did a semi-double ascent of Cowles Mtn. It was getting dark and had to bail out of going all the way down for the second ascent. Had real heavy legs still, but made it to the top in 37 min. on the first climb, so only lost about 3 min. Felt strong the second time up as well, so that was a good sign.<br /><br />Friday, did a modified training loop with Anders, who is a complete hardass. For any of you dear readers that think I am crazy, Anders is training for a double in which Saturday he is running Noble Canyon, a difficult 50k in the Laguna Mountains and Sunday he is swimming a 10 mile swim. That's right, not 10K. 10 miles. He is an ultimate hardass. And he does all this while being a partner at a major firm and raising 2 twin boys in Kindergarten. Everytime you think you are a hardass . . . .<br /><br />Anyways, it was good to knock out the run, although we shorted the loop as we had plans for later that night. Good to hit the trails with him and good to hit the trails at night with a light again. I forget what a difference it makes. I'll need to do a couple more night runs to keep practicing. Its a totally different world.<br /><br />Saturday was trailwork where I met Larry, some ultra hardass who has been racing and directing races since the 70's. Great guy with some great stories. Sunday I did the training loop, which I ran in 3:25, only 10 min slower than when I was peaking for New Mexico. While it was slightly worrisome, I definitely was not pushing it, figuring discretion was the better part of valor for this loop. Plus, with temps in the upper 80's, it was easy to take the slow way out. But legs felt fine at the end, and I have no residual soreness today, meaning I have more in there to call on - another good sign. And saw 2 great small horned toads, which I thought I had pics of, but it didn't come out. One had a lot of red on it. They were together on the trail, each a few inches long. Very cute.<br /><br />Starting to get my head around the 100 miler. My goal is just to finish and run within myself. Really looking forward to running with Pete all day on Sunday. Assuming the body holds up, I think it will be a good run, as I don't have any pressure on myself for this one. Just want to show up and get a buckle and see some sights. Lots of football on the radio as well, which always makes the time go by.<br /><br />Nothing much planned for the rest of this week. I'll head out Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Sunday for sub-2 hour runs, including a couple of night runs. Just trying to maximize rest at this point.BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-16502110512486918652010-08-12T22:12:00.000-07:002010-08-12T22:15:24.037-07:00Time to taper?So not much to report. Just trying to shake the rust out of my legs just in time for another taper. Did a canyon run with Gator on Monday as a shakedown and felt OK. Followed it up with a double ascent of Cowles Mountain. While my time on the ascent was only a few minutes slower, definitely was still feeling tired. I will do 2 hours tomorrow and 4 hours on Sunday, then taper it back down for the race. Ready to end my season. One more big push . . .BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-54399888750149132282010-08-10T08:17:00.000-07:002010-08-10T08:41:49.090-07:00Back on the trails<div><div><div><div>So, I'm glad to be back on the trails. This week I went to a good friend's wedding in Minnesota, just north of Duluth. I had a great time, including a fun 18 mile kayak down the Bois Brule river. On Saturday, it was my first time back on the trails. The north shore of Lake Superior is traced by the Superior Hiking Trail, a 230 mile mostly single track that goes from Duluth to Canada. The Sawtooth Superior 100 is run on it every year. </div><div></div><br /><div>Looking at the profile, one would think it wouldn't be that hard. But the trail is a relentless up and down, gaining and losing 200 feet at a time. As for the trail itself, it was like a 2.5 hour tire drill when one considered all the roots, rocks, holes, mud, and other obstacles. I took on a 13 or 14 mile section from north of Split Rock to Gooseberry Falls, and it was a tough grind for legs a week out from a 50 miler. </div><div></div><br /><div>The run was entirely single track, but often you couldn't see the roots and rocks because they were overgrown with grass. I had a great time pushing up the hills as it all was entirely runnable, but it really took its toll as I tried to keep the pace as high as I could. There were several people out on the trail, and at least half of them asked me, "So, who's chasing you?" It was like some kind of cult. </div><div></div><br /><div>Anyways, it was a little slower than I would have liked, but not too bad, and yesterday did the canyon run and felt pretty good. We'll see what I can get done today at Mission Trails. I'm building to a 4 hour run this Sunday, and then it will be tapering back to get ready for the 100 miler in 2 and a half weeks. We'll see how it goes. Its all about focusing again after my success . . . . <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503805573081621058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 351px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TGFyAiBYYkI/AAAAAAAAAWY/RwpCA5N7sUU/s400/superior+trail.jpg" border="0" /></div></div></div></div><br /><p>This was the widest section of trail I saw all day. Can you see the roots? I couldn't. </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503805581070126578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 351px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TGFyA_x_TfI/AAAAAAAAAWg/Tcr2EoCJ-FU/s400/superior+shelter.jpg" border="0" /></p><p>This is an old shelter where you can sit out a storm or sleep. These were scattered every few miles. The trail was excellently marked and gave great mileage posts. </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503805583798335362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 351px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TGFyBJ8cd4I/AAAAAAAAAWo/ABaAnr6q0xY/s400/superior+view.jpg" border="0" /></p><p>This is the view of Lake Superior from one of the high vantage points. You could see some of the old lighthouses from on top. </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503805591287902082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 351px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TGFyBl2GL4I/AAAAAAAAAWw/Fbzd3DAbhv4/s400/superior+waterfall+2.jpg" border="0" /></p><p>Here's one of the waterfalls. I imagine they are much more impressive during the early Spring. As it was, it was very pretty. </p>BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-12989451038621409982010-08-03T09:21:00.000-07:002010-08-03T15:53:25.540-07:00White River 50 ReportI have a distinct memory of the night before my first ultra, standing out of the balcony of the Crystal Mountain resort, looking nervously out into the forest that climbed the ski slopes over the ridge, wondering how I ever was going to get through 50 miles. Eventually I did it, but not without 12 hours and 40 minutes of extreme suffering and joyous views and a new respect for not only the runners who do this sport but myself as well. This was White River, and here I was again, 4 years later, ready to do my first repeat ultra. I had trained for this race all year with the goal of making White River my first sub-12 hour 50 mile race which had been one of my three goals every since I had started running. I knew if my training numbers held up, I should be in pretty good shape, but numbers on a training run often don't correlate to the race itself. So, here I was nervously milling about with 225 other runners waiting for the start. Erica and I had enjoyed a good dinner with Mike and Fran the night before, and it was good to catch up with them as I had enjoyed their company at Jemez. I had a good night of sleep, and I had filled up with 2 bottles of water, 2 bagels, and 2 bananas. I was ready.<br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501221566182220306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TFhD3iMCYhI/AAAAAAAAATw/BAlL_8SGL_E/s400/P1030104.JPG" border="0" />Before the start. Ready for a day in the pain locker.<br /><br /><div>And GO! Everyone was off, heading down a dirt road next to an airstrip, some 10 or 12 people wide. After 2 miles, we funneled down to a single track and then shot out onto a loamy trail consisting mostly of mud and decaying trees. It was like running on a track made of the spongy material you find under a kids' swing set, only with a few roots and rocks thrown in to make it a little more fun. The trail, like most trails on the offing for the day, wove its way sinuously around massive trunks and parted carpets of ferns. Eventually we crossed the highway and then wound our way through even prime old growth forest where the struggling gray dawn barely registered. We roly-polied this trail for another 2 miles where the first aid station awaited.<br /></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501221573827981858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TFhD3-q7ciI/AAAAAAAAAT4/zyHwLL8bG88/s400/P1030109.JPG" border="0" /><br />The start. The shirtless Jesus guy in the middle of the picture is the guy who won the thing in under 6.5 hours. What a stud. Hats off, Anton!<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501221577127832322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TFhD4K9rKwI/AAAAAAAAAUA/E2Wa9hT4OZY/s400/P1030110.JPG" border="0" />Of course, I had assumed my spot WAAAAYYY at the back of the pack . . .<br /><br /><div>After a quick bottle exchange with Erica, it was another mile and a half and then the first climb started, which was about 3000 feet over 7 miles or so. It started steeply, including a staircase, but quickly mellowed into a long slog with bouts of running and power hiking mixed together. I had gotten stuck behind someone who had started probably too fast but was now clogging up the singletrack with no way around. Soon the conga line stretched out behind us some 25 runners long. Finally, I followed some other runners around the front and pushed up the hill. As the trail would lead you to the edge of the cliffs, you would be rewarded with expansive views of Mt. Ranier, and you could see the airstrip and people mingling 2,500 feet below at the start line. As I ran, I spoke with a few people, easing into what was going to be a long day. I especially enjoyed talking to Tom who used to live in San Diego and trained on many of the same trails and even knew some of the same people. Finally, I came into Ranger Creek aid station at mile 12 at 2.5 hours into the race, about 15 minutes ahead of schedule.<br /></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501221593697891826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TFhD5IsSNfI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/LRTz7_DFhcI/s400/P1030125.JPG" border="0" />Typical section of early trail. Ooooh, very Lord of the Rings-esque. Where's Elrond? </div><br /><div></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501308766338751794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TFiTLQFdHTI/AAAAAAAAAWI/A07E0kok9L0/s400/on+the+stairs+bigger.JPG" border="0" /><br />In the conga line on the stairs. The guy who took this, who's name I don't know, was hovering in the bushes snapping shots. Thanks to whoever took this! Apparently, he was being devoured by mosquitoes at the time. And thanks to Mike for sending it along!<br /><br /><div>After a very brief stop of less than a minute, I was up and away up the final 400 feet of the climb. At least this was how it had been advertised, but in fact, some of the steepest pitches of the climb waited ahead, and it was at this point that I was passed by the first downhill runners, including Anton Krupica. What a joy to watch him run, even if it was only for 5 seconds as he came barrelling past. There were a few steep bits left to go, but mostly they were short, and I was making good time as everyone had finally sorted themselves out about to where they would be for most of the race, give or take 10 spots or so. Finally, I got to the ridge, and the fields were littered with wildflowers of every shape and color. I also was enjoying a Mt. Ranier eclipse as the monolith dominated the view, and I could see the sun dancing in the deep blue chutes of the glaciers. As this was an out and back section, I had to dart off the trail time to time to allow the faster runners to keep their momentum headed back. While this interrupted my rhythm, I enjoyed seeing all of the runners ahead of me, especially the strong ones, and everyone gave each other words of encouragement as we were all in this soup together. It was also great to see Mike running so well, and I had to nimbly execute a high five before he got past me.<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501222466846902834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TFhEr9bOyjI/AAAAAAAAAUg/_5jVrsVlwtE/s400/white+river+2010+-+corral+pass.JPG" border="0" /><br />Photo by Glenn Tachiyama, who, besides being an accomplished runner, lays like a sniper in the bushes and then takes absolutlely fabulous photos of you. For anyone who wants to see what an ultra is like or just loves great photos of the NW, I encourage you to go to his site which is <a href="http://www.pbase.com/gtach/root">http://www.pbase.com/gtach/root</a>. Mt. Ranier, obviously in the background. This is "charging" down to the aid station about 17 miles in.<br /><br /><div>I came into Corral Pass, enjoyed a quick snack, and then pushed out. Unfortunately, it was about here that I began feeling some cramps in my calves which limited my ability to push on the uphills coming back to the ridgeline, although it was nice to have runners stepping out of my way as opposed to the other way around. I was able to push through some rough spots by taking salt and staying right on the edge of cramping and pushing the downhills, knowing a long downhill section awaited me. Once it started, I was off, and I blew through Ranger Creek the second time, pausing only to fill my bottle as they sent us down a different trail back to the start line which was roughly the halfway point. My only worry at this point was getting enough salt in me, as I was still a little crampy and had sweat through my shirt.<br /></div><br /><div>As I plunged down the five miles of switchbacks between Ranger Creek and the halfway point at Buck Creek, I realized that I should have stopped for some food at the aid, as I had to slow down on the switchbacks to get some energy gels and salt pills in my system, and what I gained by not taking a minute at the aid station I lost by having to refuel on the run, costing me valuable momentum and time. I did manage to pick off about 8 runners on the way down from the top of the climb before Ranger Creek, but I was only able to average about 10 minute miles, when I should have been able to go at least 2 minutes per mile faster. But I felt strong when I pulled into Buck Creek at about 5 hours and 50 minutes, which was about 1/2 hour ahead of 12 hour pace and almost exactly where I thought I would be when I did my pre-race calculations. I was hoping to see Scotty there, but he was nowhere to be found. I did have a great but quick chat with Erica, who was a perfect crew as always. She gave me some frozen bottles and gels for the road, a quick good word of encouragement, and I was off.<br /></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501222452006721714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TFhErGJDmLI/AAAAAAAAAUY/vpD0K0876Ts/s400/P1030139.JPG" border="0" />At the halfway aid station. I think I shoved the kid behind me out of the way because he was standing between me and Goldfish. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501222482838715602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TFhEs4_-fNI/AAAAAAAAAUw/6tIkfu_2bcU/s400/P1030140.JPG" border="0" />And I'm off like a herd of turtles for the second half of the course . . . .<br /><br /><div>My biggest worry in the next two miles was how to manage my cramping. I looked down and I was covered in salt from my dried sweat. I vowed to keep pushing salt down my throat and headed for the Suntop Climb. This was a long 8 mile climb, the first 2.7 of which gained 1,700 feet in 2.7 miles through exposed switchbacks. In training, I was knocking out these kinds of climbs with regularity. But this was a different animal today for some reason. I was struggling mightily, and people were passing me like I had thrown out an anchor. I would guess I was passed by 15 people, and while I had gone out extra aggressively anticipating that I would need time in the bank, so I knew I would be getting passed by people, I had not counted on getting passed by THAT many, especially that badly, as I simply could not get my legs to match any of their pace. I kept trying to catch onto the back of a train, and kept getting dropped within 20 to 30 seconds. Finally, I made it to the aid station at Fawn Ridge, but doing the math, I thought any chance at 12 hours was gone barring a miracle.<br /></div><div>I knew I needed a minute to get the morale up, as I was going to finish this thing regardless, so I bolted a few cups of mountain dew and a few bananas, my old friends. I also had some salted potatoes and goldfish and then took off up the final section of this climb. The second section was in tree cover and much less steep, with finally some runnable flats and downs mixed in. My legs were coming back, and I was starting to pick off a few of the runners that had passed me before. But the cramping was getting worse. To combat it, I tried to take my 8th salt pill of the day, but promptly yaked it straight back out. Well, that was it for pills for the day. I’d have to do it on Nuun drink, which is an electrolyte drink you make by dropping an Alka-seltzer like pill into a bottle of water, and salty snacks. Hmmmm. As I went to swing my legs over a stump, I felt a tightening and a paralyzing pain up and down my right inner leg. As I looked down, my right foot was turned out at a 90 degree angle from my other leg as I suffered groin cramps the like I would wish on no other. I limped up the trail, begging the muscles in my leg to relax and let go, cajoling them, pleading for a little speed. I was thinking that I was just starting to feel good again, and now this! I quickly recalculated the time in my head and realized that I had made a stupid mistake on the Fawn Ridge climb. When calculating how much time I had left, I had been looking at clock time, not elapsed time, on the run, so my chance at 12 hours was intact! I did some quick math, and I was going to have to push to try to make it to Sun Top no later than 3:45 PM, but now I was done with all but the last mile of the climb, and then came the downhill, my specialty.<br /></div><div>With renewed vigor, I hit the downhill from the false summit to the base of the last climb. This was a one mile steep up, but my legs were recovered, and I enjoy relatively short steep ups as I have good strength for shorter climbs as opposed to the longer ones where I’m too big to make great time. This rocky straight up SOB was right up my alley, almost Xeroxed from Mission Trails, so I powered up this last bit, knowing that the top was soon at hand. I was able to pass a few more of the people who had passed me earlier on this last bit and popped out on the top, with some threatening clouds in the distance and thunder rumbling around the valleys. Last time I had been here, I was so hungry I stuffed down two whole costco chocolate muffins. This time, I had just wretched up a salt pill and was in so-so shape. I took in what salt I could by eating salty boiled potatoes and chips and took off for the 6.6 mile downhill. I left at 3:40, which gave me 2 hours and 50 minute to hit my goal. Knowing that my cramps would not let me push the pace much on the last 6.5 flat miles, I knew I had to try to go for broke on the downhill, where my cramps didn't affect me.<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501222493702072226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TFhEtheAJ6I/AAAAAAAAAU4/Bkqbf9XhsYU/s400/white+river+2010+-+sun+top.JPG" border="0" />Another Glenn sniper shot, this time from the top of the last climb. Ready for some downhill! What's really funny is that I have the same shot from my 2006 White River race, and I am making the exact same dumb pose. As Bugs would say, "What a Maroon!"<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501300186629243666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TFiLX2LTgxI/AAAAAAAAAVA/8Apb7Unvit0/s400/white+river+suntop+ranier.JPG" border="0" />Mt. Ranier from Suntop. This was taken the day before when we were checking out the course. On raceday, there were threatening clouds and thunder, although, disappointingly, never any rain. </div><br /><div>I bolted out of the aid station and onto the downhill fireroad. As I left, another guy who had passed me earlier headed out with me. I hit a hard pace, and he matched me stride for stride. If I faltered a little, he would pull ahead, and then I would pull up a little, and he would come up to me. Without saying a word, he and I pushed each other down the hill, cutting every corner, nearly stride for stride. We weren't necessarily competing against each other as much as teaming with each other to make sure the other wouldn't break and using our momentum to catch whoever was sitting in front of us as we flew past other runners, using them as rabbits to chase. What was really special is neither of us even so much as glanced at one another as we pushed it as hard as we could. We had an unspoken bond between us as runners and racers, and talking about it just would have spoiled it. While I now know his name from looking him up in results, I probably won't ever speak to him. He ended up finishing the race about 10 minutes behind me, and as he crossed the line, he went out of his way to walk up to me, give me a fist bump and a smile, letting me know that he had felt the same way, and melted into the post race crowd. I may never see him again, but I treasure those 50 minutes, as that is how long it took us to run miles 37 to 43.5, which doesn’t sound fast, but those are the fastest miles I’ve ever run in an ultra, not to mention one where I had already been running for 10 hours. Unfortunately, I left my partner behind on the very last portion of the section as I bombed into the last aid station where Erica was waiting with another bottle and a good word. I stopped briefly and then bolted out onto the trails.<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501300207678189538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TFiLZElw7-I/AAAAAAAAAVQ/xZA17Lw9B1A/s400/P1030148.JPG" border="0" />Erica got this picture of a guy running the race in sandals. He is one of the ones who passed me on the bad climb to Suntop. I also saw 2 guys with vibrams, one of whom had taken them off and was running in bare feet. I think I lost to all 3 of them! </div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501300217090315954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TFiLZnpylrI/AAAAAAAAAVY/Scx4l13k0_c/s400/P1030153.JPG" border="0" />Last M&M's for 7 miles! </div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501300224319384450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TFiLaClVa4I/AAAAAAAAAVg/JWJpCpELlS4/s400/P1030154.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div>Off for one last push through Skookum Flats. 12 hours, here I come! At least, that's what I hoped . . .<br /><br /><div>This was Skookum Flats - 6.6 miles of eminently runnable, rooty, rocky, mossy, old growth fun. However, my legs were completly shot and starting to cramp again. I had 1 hour and 50 minutes to make the finish. Normally, of course, not a problem, but with cramps and fatigue, I thought it was going to be on the close side as I felt completely spent. My strategy for this whole section was to run until I cramped, then walk until it eased up, then repeat. At first I was able to go 6 or 7 minutes of slow running, but as I got farther and farther in, and as I tried to push harder and harder, the cramps came faster and faster to the point where it seemed like I was running 400 yards and walking 100 yards.<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501300197184740210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TFiLYdf7m3I/AAAAAAAAAVI/bBGvt-V-LDs/s400/P1030145.JPG" border="0" />The Skookum Flats trail . . .<br /><br /><div>I got passed by a few people on this loop. Not knowing how long the section was, I asked them as they went by how much further did they estimate we had to go. I got varying numbers, none of which I trusted and all of which made me nervous. There were no mile markers, and I had no ability to discern what my pace was with all the starting and stopping and fast walking and slow running. Finally, I was passed by someone who turned out to be Van Phan, who has finished more races than I will ever start. She said that we had "about" 3 miles to go at the bridge. 2 minutes later, I crossed the bridge. It was 5:30, so I had an hour left to beat my goal, but it had taken me 50 minutes to cover 3.5 miles, and I had actually been able to run big sections of that, and now I was running only for 1 to 2 minute chunks at a time. The trail wound along the river's edge from time to time, and I would look out for the river, as I knew if I could see a bridge, I would be close to the finish as it was .4 miles from the road to the line. I pushed ahead, running when I could, finally even running with cramps on areas of open trail where there was nothing to trip on. I’m sure I looked like some mutant old growth penguin waddling stiff-legged through the forest. I looked at my watch. 20 minutes to go. A little panic started to creep in. I had NOT worked this hard and come this close to let it slip away.<br /></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501301044275388306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TFiMJxKFH5I/AAAAAAAAAVo/2qUThQUUPLg/s400/P1030157.JPG" border="0" /><br />A shot of the White River. It really is White! Now where is that damned bridge . . .<br /><br /><div>In the distance, I heard a voice that said "Up here!" Looking around, I saw a guy dressed in red about 400 yards ahead of me. He was standing at the end of the trail. "You made it!" he yelled. I looked at my watch. It was in the bag. I was so happy I screamed back at him, yelling in tongues. I still have no idea what I said. I had made it! As I dumped onto the road, I grabbed the guy by the shirt with both hands and told him I was going to marry him. If I had the energy, I would have kissed him, so lucky for us both I was too tired. I simply turned up the road and made my way towards the turn to the finish. Coming around the last corner with .2 miles to go, I let myself spend a moment thinking about all the hard work and training and sacrifice in the last 4 years and all the help and advice and good thoughts and words I had gotten from friends to push me along to this point. And now, it was coming to pass. For 30 seconds, as I trotted down the dirt road, I just let it wash over me, and I can’t remember ever feeling so completely and simply satisfied.<br /></div><br /><div>But the end and the glory awaited! As soon as I came out of the trees, I could see the finish! Everyone who was left started to cheer, as they did for every runner who finished. I heard Mike and Fran say congratulations as I was coming up the final bit, and as I bunny-hopped over the finish, there was Erica and Scotty! Fantastic! It was great to see Scotty, as my original White River has been his idea (although he hadn’t bothered to show up for it - ha!), and he was the one who got me into trail racing instead of just trail running. So it was nice serendipity to see him at the finish. </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501301063624424802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TFiMK5PP_WI/AAAAAAAAAV4/AVv5FtiBi5s/s400/white+river+finish+3.jpg" border="0" />Whoa! I almost look like a real runner! Look at that concentration and focus!<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501301054912825698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TFiMKYyPiWI/AAAAAAAAAVw/GyKDHS7XSI4/s400/P1030169.JPG" border="0" />Or not. Here I am giving Gator jaws to the crowd instead of just running the 200 yards to the finish. See previous caption about being a Maroon.<br /><br /><div>I literally made it 3 steps and collapsed into a chair. Mike and Fran came up, and I had a ball talking to them, hearing about Mike’s race (he crushed it), and talking the usual BS with Scotty and Deeser. My final time - 11:45:55, good for 147th place out of 194 finishers and 226 starters, or almost the exact same relative placing as Jemez. After a salty cheeseburger and fries on the way home, I was starting to feel myself. I hopped on a scale at Uncle’s house in Seattle. I weighed 210 when I left Seattle on Friday AM, and I weighed 192 less than 36 hours later. I lost 18 pounds!!! That, as they say in fancy doctor offices, is not good. I also will be losing 4 toenails, have a giant raw spot on my chest from where my bandana knot was rubbing, and have a hickey like bruise on my neck from my hydration pack. I'll just tell people its a hickey - it sounds much more macho. I also have a couple of other hickey/raw spots from the belt on my new running shorts, but those will remain safely tucked from view . . .<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501301070194294690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TFiMLRtoP6I/AAAAAAAAAWA/uqye-tulwA0/s400/white+river+sitting.jpg" border="0" />Mike says he runs for the chair. How true. I made it about 3 steps before collapsing into this one, very proud but very tired.<br /><br /><div>So, how does it feel having nailed a life goal of a sub-12 50 miler? Well, for one, I’m not changing the name of the blog. But it feels amazing. Of course now, 2 days later, I start to think about where I could have made up minutes, where I let some mental weakness slip in, and how I could have raced it better. It was a good racing day, but not my best, so the question is how much faster can I get? I’m definitely going to keep pushing, but it won’t take away the deep satisfaction of getting this finish in the books. Big thanks to Deeser for crewing, for Uncle and Aunt and the girls for putting us up in Seattle and feeding and taking care of me (and for the awesome footrub Aunt K!), for everyone who sent good thoughts my way as I’m a big believer in good karma, and to everyone who gave a crap because its fun for me to share my adventures on the trails. Next up - Cascade Crest 100! I’ve got a month to rest up . . . </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-9874425640291503992010-08-02T11:39:00.001-07:002010-08-02T11:41:23.252-07:00Success!!Sorry to those who check the blog from time to time, but I've been a busy boy. Notably, I may need to rename the blog, as I finally made it sub-12! I finished White River 50 in 11:45 and change. More info and a full race report as soon as I get some pics to go with my boring words, but the short story is that I killed it the first half, died on the first half of the second climb, and then picked up the last quarter to come in with some time to spare. Feeling fairly good today and should be ready to do some hiking tomorrow and running again by the weekend. Just in time to taper for Cascade Crest! <br /><br />More soon . . .BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-9353131168503223382010-07-05T08:13:00.000-07:002010-07-05T08:37:17.291-07:00Long time comingSorry I've been out of touch. A week and a half without a post. Naughty naughty. Well, this was the last week of training. A real push. Highlights of the week were a double ascent of Cowles Mountain at 34 minutes per ascent, a 3 hour loop in Mission Trails partially at night, and a couple of canyon runs, including one in which I would have finished under 1:20 but I slowed up to let Gator catch me as I was gapping her pretty bad. Poor girl is starting to show her age, and she was really straining to keep me in site, so I backed off the last 2 miles to let her come back to me. But I know I would have had the time, which is good to know. <div><div> </div><div>The week culminated yesterday with a double ascent of Palomar up the Oak Grove trail. This is a 7 mile out and back on 2 miles of techinical single track followed by about 5 miles of fire road. From the start, there is maybe400 yards of downhill on the whole climb. Its about 3600 feet of climbing to a fire tower as I've written before. So the first ascent went very well. It was still cool with a breeze, so I could make some time. I was up and back down in about 3:05. Not bad, but not great. Still, I was very satisfied. After a brief break in the AC of the car and a snack, I hit the road again. </div><div> </div><div>This second time up was very difficult. It had gotten to the mid 80's and I was feeling a ridiculous week of training in my legs. In the end, it was up and back in 3:40 the second time. Disappointing, but I was glad to knock it out. It took a lot out of me, and I was sore all day long and am still sore today. </div><div> </div><div>Lots of great reptiles from this week. </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490444821438087714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 351px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TDH6ebizQiI/AAAAAAAAASw/U8iVQI1MPUU/s400/horned+toad.jpg" border="0" />Too bad this guy was blurry. The biggest horned lizard I've ever seen, maybe the size of my palm. He was in mission trails, but I also saw another on Palomar. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490444829334580482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 301px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TDH6e49eLQI/AAAAAAAAAS4/aBgbCwDRqzE/s400/gopher+snake+palomar.jpg" border="0" />This was towards the top of Palomar. These gopher snakes can grow pretty large. This gives you a decent idea about his size. This is the entire roadbed of the fire road, so you can see he's pretty long. </div><div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490444831768490866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 302px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 246px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TDH6fCBws3I/AAAAAAAAATA/t4DVdE0JMMs/s400/speckled+rattler+enlarged.jpg" border="0" />This is a specked rattlesnake. I've never seen one before. Absolutely beautiful. I also saw a red rattlesnake, which is fairly rare. In fact it was the second I've seen, and both were on the same trail on Palomar and about the same spot about 2 years apart, so maybe they are the same one. Palomar definitely has more rattlesnakes than anyother spot I've been. Sweet.<br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div>BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-63723031759583300742010-06-24T22:37:00.000-07:002010-06-24T22:53:38.974-07:00Training runsOK, its been tough training while the World Cup is on. Up at 4:45 to watch the first game, then second game is 7:00, get done by 9:00, head to work, then ditch out for early lunch at 11:30 for the third game. So early runs have been right out, and then I stay at work late to make up for my late arrival and long lunch.<br /><br />So training has been sporadic. Its been Ok, but I haven't hit my groove yet. The most fun I've had our repeats up Cowles Mtn. The climb is about 1400 feet over 2.2 miles, so its not bad. Roughly a third of what my climbs at white river will be. The climb took me 38 minutes during a 6 hour run on Saturday and 35 minutes doing a single run up, so climbing rates are good. But on my 6 hour run, I did flats after 2 trips up and down Cowles. It was poor, and I really struggled, adding in some walks. Pretty lousy. And I still haven't gotten a lot of the runs I need, while my eating has been poor because I keep going to watch the games. ARGH!<br /><br />My only funny story from this week happened today. As I was changing for my evening run, just as I had my pants around my ankles, here comes a police car and pulls up behind me. Oh man, now what? Do I quick pull up my pants? That looks pretty suspicious. I decided to keep on changing, but I have my eye in the rear view mirror watching to see what this cop is going to do. Finally, he pulls up next to me, rolls down his window, and asks me about a trailer that is parked on the street in front of me. Holy crap, that was close. I don't know if he was waiting until I was done changing or whether he pulled up randomly after I was done.<br /><br />So that's my cop run in. Hopefully 4 hour run tomorrow, 2 hours on Saturday afternoon, and 6 horus on Sunday. We'll see how it works out . . .BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-88567758454651344802010-06-14T16:33:00.000-07:002010-06-14T16:52:23.689-07:00VolunteerI spent this past weekend volunteering for the San Diego 100. I had sent an e-mail to Scotty Mills saying I was available to help. I was expecting aid station duty or something similar, but because I had some ultra experience, I was asked to help mark the course and put in touch with Brian Gonzalez, alias Gonzo, alias Bad Rat, alias 9 toes Brian. He asked me to meet him at 8 AM at Big Bend in the Cuyamacas. There we loaded up packs and drove to Sweetwater. In the packs we had signs, reflectors, duct tape, 5 rolls of marking tape each, and 1 gallon pitcher of chalk plus the usual running stuff - gels, water, etc.<br /><br />We headed out up the course with the goal of marking from Sweetwater back to Big Bend which is I would guess about 15 miles of the course, maybe a little more. I had never marked before, but it was fun. You try to picture yourself as a runner at that stage of the race, in this case mile 70 or so, running the dark. How often do you need to see a marker? What are the chances you are going to stumble down the wrong trail? Then you figure out how to keep everybody safe and on trail with as little stress as possible. So when you come to a dry stream bed, you mark the heck out of it so you know not to wander up the bed and to follow the trail. When you come to a turn, you put all kinds of ribbon and signs so you can't turn the wrong way unless you were trying to get lost.<br /><br />Anyways, as a back of the packer, I know I LOVE seeing trail markers, so we marked the crap out of the course. It took us from about 9 AM until about 1 PM. That's a slow rate of travel, but you are stopping every couple of minutes to put on a marker or drop some chalk or something similar. So not only does that give you delays, it chops up your rhythm. I guess Brian had been marking for days. He is a beast, as he kept up a good pace and showed no signs of fatigue, despite nearly breaking his big toe. Twice (thus the monniker 9 toes).<br /><br />Saturday, I said I'd help mark and sweep. So first we remarked a 5 mile loop. Then I headed home as I had to coach, and when I came back out, I was asked to check some markings because a horse race had shared our course. The horses had trashed much of it, so I repaired about 10 miles of markings making sure it was obvious. I felt relatively confident that it looked good, so I drove up to the start line and Brian and I ran another 6 or 7 miles pulling markers from the Laguna section of trail that was all done with as it was the first miles from the AM. By the time I got done, I was ridiculously hungry and killed it at the Viejas buffet, where I'm sure I looked and smelled like a homeless guy. They had all you can eat prime rib for 10 bucks. They lost a LOT of money on me.<br /><br />On Sunday, Brian called early saying there were some lost runners who had fortunately been found by the time I got up there about 7 AM. Given we were short of some people and had lots of work to do, I pitched in to run some alone and pick up the trail. For this, like on Saturday, you run with a giant yard trash bag and pull down all ribbons and markers and pick up the trash as you go if you find any on the trail. As you might imagine, the bag starts pretty light but it adds up pretty quick and soon you feel like Santa Claus running down the trail with your 10 pound trash bag. All in all did 16 miles of cleaning up, and Brian did at least that much, so that a good portion of the work of cleaning up was done with. I said I could help more, but haven't heard, so I'm probably in the clear. I have some pictures, but need to develop them as they were on a disposable camera. I'll post after I get them done.<br /><br />All in all, it was a great weekend. I'm not sure how much positive training I got, but I did get a lot just from the experience of hanging around all of these great ultra people and getting to see some people run and push themselves, and the miles I did weren't chicken feed. I know how much I've enjoyed racing so it was nice to give back. I really recommend it to anyone who either has raced or who hasn't but wants to see what its all about. I had a ball, met some great people, and will be looking forward to doing it again.<br /><br />Hopefully back to a normal training week this week. I have about 3 to 4 weeks of good positive training before I have to start my taper for White River, so I want to take advantage of it. Tomorrow will be the canyon run, Wednesday will be the run from practice, Thursday will probably be a run from softball, Friday will be the course, Saturday an early AM Mission Trails ramble and Sunday will probably be Palomar again. Or I might skip Saturday and Sunday do a Palomar double. That would be hardass.BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-8632718344696278252010-06-07T20:46:00.001-07:002010-06-07T21:07:17.223-07:00I have nature on me!So it was an interesting set of runs this weekend. Friday was the usual course, and I was on record pace. I ran most of South Fortuna except the stairs, and I was on top of the last bump of North Fortuna in 49 minutes, but then I saw something fascinating. There is a species of wasp called a tarantula hawk. These wasps prey specifically on tarantulas and other big ground spiders. They sting them, effectively paralyzing them. Then they drag them into their burrow, lay their eggs, and the larvae eat them alive. Gruesome!!<br /><br />So as I rounded a corner, I was distracted by a flash of orange, and sure enough, here was a tarantula hawk attacking a tarantula! So here's the philisophical dilemma: Do I stay and watch this unfold, something I've seen in nature films but never seen before in person? Or do I push on and keep my record pace? I was pretty torn, but ultimately decided to stay and watch. In the end, I run trails to have unique experiences, and while I would like to get faster, it was worth taking a break to watch, especially knowing that I had a great 50 minute workout.<br /><br />So I watched the wasp sting the tarantula, then leap back and wait to watch its handiwork. The spider flipped onto its back and twitched for a minute or two. Then the wasp came on top of the spider to see if it was paralyzed. And it was.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TA29SCOpm5I/AAAAAAAAASY/sdBCteGwK6M/s1600/tarantula+hawk+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480244439113374610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 351px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TA29SCOpm5I/AAAAAAAAASY/sdBCteGwK6M/s400/tarantula+hawk+2.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div>Sorry this is blurry. Its a blowup of a pic from my camera phone. You can see the wasp doing its business.</div><div> </div><div>Afterwards, I watched it haul the poor spider into its burrow. The whole thing took about 10 minutes. </div><div> </div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480244450296393010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 265px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 351px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TA29Sr447TI/AAAAAAAAASg/JDVyMBKhf6o/s400/tarantula+hawk.jpg" border="0" />Here she's dragging away the spider for a nasty death.<br /><br />After the break, it was hard to get the motivation going to push it again so I cruised to the finish. Saturday, I did two hours early in the canyon as I was headed to Palm Springs. Sunday, I took the tram up to Mountain Station on San Jacinto to run up to San Jacinto peak. Unfortunately, there was still too much snow, so there was no way to get up, at least running. I was able to do about 2 hours on lower trails and call it a day.<br /><br />So today, I ran up at Crystal Cove. I did about 12 miles in 2.5 hours with about 2,000 feet or climbing. Not bad, not great. Didn't have tons of energy, but did all right. There was lots of snake sign - undulating marks in the loose dust on top of the trail. Finally found a sucker in the back part of the park. He was the longest gopher snake I've ever seen, like 4 feet. Got a quick pic of him as he headed into the brush.<br /><br />This weekend will be volunteer work for the SD 100. Trailmarking all day on Thursday, then sweeping and other similar stuff on Saturday. I'm guessing I'll do about 20 miles on Thursday and another 30 on Saturday. I might help on Sunday too if they need it. Always good to give a little back . . .<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480244451823273794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 351px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TA29Sxk7R0I/AAAAAAAAASo/2SS_U6fI5ds/s400/gopher+snake.jpg" border="0" />Here's the gopher snake headed for cover . . .<br /><div></div>BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496215568207272710.post-49258083223957786442010-05-31T20:51:00.001-07:002010-06-01T10:13:52.848-07:00recovery!<div><div>So, we are 9 days post Jemez, and recovery is relatively complete. I took a few days off, and went for an hour hike on Monday then a short run on Wednesday. I took Thursday off, but Friday did an hour and a half on Glorious Ridge with Justin Evenson. It was good to get back on the trails with him. Saturday I did almost 3 hours in the canyon, doing the tailgate loop while listening to the Lakers game. After hiking on Sunday and going to check out Star Wars in Concert (very good, if a little cheesy and over the top), Monday was a new challenge - High Point! </div><div></div><br /><div>High Point is the highest point on Palomar Mountain. Starting from Oak Grove, its a 13 mile out and back with 3,600 feet of gain. I picked this one because it should be relatively similar to the climbs for White River at between 500 and 600 feet per mile for several miles. My hope was to get up in 2 hours and 10 minutes and down in 65 minutes. I made my time goal, but was up to the top in 2 hours, and it took 70 minutes to get down. I definitely bonked on the way down, which isn't too surprising given that I only took two gels on the way up and none on the way down. Went through 3 frozen water bottles and could have done another. It was mid 70's at the start at the bottom and mid 80's at the bottom, so it was starting to get warm. </div><div></div><br /><div>The climb starts with 1,800 feet of gain in 2 miles on technical single track. Definitely some work to get up. It dumps onto a series of fire roads which are fairly mellow for a mile and a half or so, but then kick up before another 1/2 mile flat section through shady oaks and then a final steep kick to the finish at high point. There is a multi-story fire tower up at the top that is sometimes open, but was closed today so that they could do some safety work on it. After about 7 minutes on top, I headed down. I hadn't made it 1/4 mile when a rattler struck at me. It wasn't even close, but it was a wake up call. I have no idea what it was thinking. Its funny because the last time I was here, I had a close call where the rattler struck and missed. Twice! Both times its head bounced off my ankle as I danced and screamed like a 13 year old girl at a Justin Beiber concert. So, the lesson is that they have some grumpy rattlers up there. </div><div></div><br /><div>Among other sites were numerous blooming wildflowers that were populated with big bees. I thought they were carpenter bees, but they might have been bumble bees. I wasn't taking a close look. There is a great view of the observatory from the top. A possible long run will be to get dropped off at Oak Grove and picked up somewhere in Palomar state park, or, even better, to run down to the state park, then back up and over again. That would be tough for sure. I'll have to scout it out. </div><div></div><br /><div>More soon! </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477853756184893026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 103px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 155px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TAU-9-TwlmI/AAAAAAAAASQ/-GW6O-10yDM/s400/high+point+fire+tower.jpg" border="0" />A view of the fire tower from the top. I'll bring a better camera next time because you can get some good pics from a distance. You can see it for the last 2 miles or so of the approach. A good target.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477853742705689170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 145px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 108px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TAU-9MGEQlI/AAAAAAAAASA/1R_sZh5KA0U/s400/palomar+observatory.jpg" border="0" />The view of the Palomar Observatory from the fire tower.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477853750067092066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 130px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 96px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OeYDU75M7dU/TAU-9nhKWmI/AAAAAAAAASI/B6QYhjWqlI4/s400/palomar+rattlesnake.jpg" border="0" />A southern Pacific rattler! This was the culprit on Monday, but the last guy who struck at me was a red rattlesnake which are rarer. Neither one makes a good dinner guest.<br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div>BJ Haeckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05938958533487502861noreply@blogger.com1