Plain 100 Trail Run

I made a difficult decision not to go run the Hardrock 100 mile trail run this year, after training for months and sleeping in an altitude tent for a week and a half. The day before I was to leave to head out to Colorado, Kathy's midwife told her that she could give birth "possibly this week", and so I stayed at home waiting for Zachary to be born a week and a half later. I could have made it back in time, but I have no regrets. Races come every year, and children only come... hopefully less often than that. Besides, it is extremely difficult to run 100 miles when all you want to do is head back home as quick as possible.

Instead, I signed up for the Plain 100 trail run on September 10th. Christi Masi said that she wanted to run it, so I agreed to run with her. That way, I wouldn't feel the pressure to run too fast, and my pathetic lack of training after Zach was born would be less apparent. Also, the race director doesn't allow pacers, so it would be awfully lonely running 100 miles by myself; I'd much rather spend 32 hours visiting with a friend.

Christi had just started a new job and could not make it out to the pre-race meeting, so I took notes. Note: attending this meeting is very important, as the RD mentioned a couple key turns that were not well described in the course description, and he also provided a "water map" from which I copied onto my GreenTrails map all the locations where water was available. This information proved to be invaluable, as the temperature hit 96 degrees in Plain on Saturday.

Christi arrived dramatically: her husband flew her up from Seattle and they landed at the airstrip next to the Rec Center where we were having our meeting. Noone had seen a plane land here before, as the short grass runway allowed only certain types of small planes to land.

Note: the Rec Center has awful, sulfury water. Don't expect to use the water at the Rec Center. Also, don't plan on sleeping inside the Rec Center, as the volunteers who make breakfast arrive awfully early to set up.

We camped outside the Rec Center at the edge of the airstrip and woke up at 3:30am to grab a pancake breakfast (thanks, volunteers!) and drive several miles over to the start line at Deep Creek. The race started at 5am.

The race consists of two loops, with only one aid station back at Deep Creek after we have finished the first loop. Christi and I planned to carry 16-20 hours of food with us and fill up with water at creeks and streams along the way. We planned to run as slow as we could on the first loop so as to have the will and the means to finish the second loop.

We started the race by running down the road to Thousand Oaks Lodge and back up to Deep Creek, because the RD wanted to keep the race the same even though that start location had changed from previous years. However, the Plain 100 is already 107 miles, so I would seriously consider eliminate this 3 mile section. Running an out-and-back on a dusty road is not my idea of fun, but the Plain 100 is not supposed to be "fun". It is "just plain tough". And it was. All of it.

We started faster than we wanted to, but it was hard to moderate ourselves when other people were around. After the first couple hours or so, we fell into a comfortable rhythm. Even the speed-walking was strenuous on some of the steeper sections, and the day warmed up pretty quickly. By this time we were on our own, and it was nice to have company.

I'd like to say more about the trails, but I'm not sure how to really enliven them. There was a fair amount of dust, and a lot of mind-numbing switchbacks. Many of the trails were ORV trails, and we saw several motorcycles throughout the day on Saturday. For the most part, the trails were not too rocky, but the dust did seep into our shoes and collect in pockets in our socks, so we occasionally would stop to knock the dust out and relieve the hotspots that formed on our feet. We spent a lot of time trying to make sure that we did not get blisters, which I did anyways, but at least they never became disabling. Our goal was "don't do anything that prevents you from finishing".

We had nice views at Klone Peak, at mile 19 our so and the high point along the route (6820').
The race directors were there to wish us on, having run 9 miles or so up from a drive-in checkpoint where we would later see them in loop 2. We also had a really nice time down at Tommy Creek (mile 33) where we waded into the creek and relaxed by the pool before the terrible climb back up and over Tyee Ridge in the afternoon heat. We loaded up on water here but we still ran out. Luckily we found the seep near Signal Peak and could refill with water before we headed back down to Cougar and Mad Creek. Christi did not drink enough and got somewhat dehydrated (as evidenced by brown pee), but she caught up later in the day and bounced back without any adverse effects.

The trail down Billy Creek was overgrown and rocky. I'm glad we did not have to do that part at night. Night fell as we finished our hike back up Mad Creek. At a brief stop I started to shiver, more due to my poor control over my body temperature than to the weather. We finally made it back to Maverick Saddle and followed the logging roads back to Deep Creek, arriving at 9:45pm or so, 16 hours and 45 minutes after we started.

At Deep Creek aid station, we received the best treatment ever. We relaxed in camp chairs at Deep Creek while the volunteers knocked the dust out of our shoes and then gave us each a

foot bath while we were waiting for our soup and grilled cheese sandwiches to be ready. They even held my toes apart for me while I wrapped new layers of tape onto my dust-streaked toes in preparation for the second loop. That was the best aid station I've ever been at, even though we were promised "no aid".

After a sufficient break, we headed out for the second half of the race, a slightly shorter and less technical lollipop loop than the first half (47 miles vs. 60 miles on the first loop). My pack was full of extra food, clothes and gear, as my only concern was to have what it took to finish rather than to finish fast. Christi had recovered from her dehydration and was ready to "run a 50 miler". Off we went, up the winding singletrack, which we had traveled down at the end of the Plain Trioba Adventure Race the other year, so it was somewhat, eerily familiar. Exactly two hours later, we passed the Alder Creek turn-off that we would come back on hours later.

We took it easy through the night and made slow, steady progress. When I got sleepy, we took a five minute nap. An hour later, we passed a runner in front of us who was filling up her water. Betsy Kalmeyer was suffering from blisters and moving slowly. I feel for her, as my feet had been complaining off and on for most of the race, but extra layers of Leukotape seemed to have kept them at bay.

Just before dawn, we pulled into the Chickamin Tie check point and said our hellos to the race directors, who were here cheering us on. A note about check points: the several check points along the race course are for Search and Rescue to keep track of where we are, but have no aid. They will not even give us water unless we disqualify ourselves from the race. It's nice to see a smiling face every now and then, however. We readied ourselves to finish our last big climb before the heat of the new day.

Once we passed Mad Lake, we were ready to tackle the downhills. The motorcycles were starting to appear again, and we passed several groups on our way down Alder Creek trail.
Even the downhills are hard, with mind-numbing switchbacks bolstered by latticed concrete blocks around the curves to prevent erosion due to the ORV traffic. We ran an asphalt road for a mile or two, which turned out to be one of the harder sections on our tender feet for some reason. We arrived at the bottom at 11:08 am, just over 30 hours after we had started, having run 100 miles already. Seven more miles to go.

The last seven miles took us two hours on our way out in the middle of the night. I thought that we could return quicker, however, and finish in under 32 hours. I started to pick up the pace, running some of the shallow uphills. Christi kept up, but was only mildly interested in racing to the finish. A tendon in my ankle started to flare up and hurt with every step. We decided to take it easy, and the miles slipped by. We popped out at Deer Creek before we knew it, and finished in 31:55, comfortably under our goal. I was ready to be done.

Christi finished as the first woman, and won a chunk of granite with "Plain 100 - first woman" painted on it. I was glad to just finish and nurse my wounds.

Four Days of Hardrock

I've always wanted to run the Hardrock 100 trail run, but given how hard it is to get into the race through the lottery system, I may never get the chance. Instead, I decided to plan my own run-cation to go run/hike the course in four easily manageable segments over four days. Along the way I would travel 100 miles, accumulate over 33,000 feet of climbing, and summit Mt Handies, a 14er. My dad and Karen signed on to be my crew, and would drive our car to meet me at each stop.

This was the schedule
Thursday: Ouray to Telluride: 16.2 miles, 5500 ft gain, 10150 feet avg. elevation
Friday: Telluride to Silverton: 27.8 miles, 10200 ft gain, 11023 feet avg. elevation
Saturday: Silverton to camp Sherman: 29.3 miles, 9350 ft gain, 11430 feet avg. elevation
Sunday: Sherman to Ouray: 27.9 miles, 8000 ft gain, 11080 feet avg. elevation

We started from Ouray on Thursday. My father joins me on the trail to Telluride while Karen drives the car around. Warren is getting ready to run the Imogene Pass run in a couple weeks, and he has planned to get in a little high altitude training. The Hardrock course follows the same route as the Imogene Pass course from Ouray up to Camp Bird, but then we turn up Yankee Boy/Governors basin and go up and over Virginius Pass at 13100 feet. Virginius Pass is a steep scramble up scree to a low point on the sharp ridge. It is not be very runnable. At least we don't have snow and cornices like the acutal Hardrock race might have in the beginning of July; on the other hand, snow might be softer and easier than sliding backwards on sharp, pointy rocks. The descent into Telluride is straightforward.

My father drops me off the next morning at 7:30am at the trailhead in Telluride for my run to Silverton. He and I have backpacked this section on a two day trip in mid-September last year. We braved constant rain and dodged thunderstorms, and an overnight snowstorm dumped an inch of new snow on us. This year, on the other hand, the weather is perfect: daily highs in the 70s and continuous clear days. As I start my run this morning, though, the temperature hovers near 40 degrees, and overnight it dropped down to freezing in the mountains - I definitely do not want to be caught out overnight.

Praying for a healthy trip, I set out for Oscars Pass on a steady climb to 13,100 feet along roads then trails up a valley behind Telluride's ski slopes. From there, I drop down steep jeep roads, losing most of my hard fought elevation gains, then immediately head up again to Grant Swamp pass. This section, and Grant Swamp pass in particular, is one of my most grueling sections of the run. The upper valley is filled with scree, and at the top, I must climb a headwall of dirt and scree to reach a break in the rocky spires. I've only been at altitude for two days, and hour upon hour of high altitude exertion is slowly depleting me.

Beyond Swamp Grant Pass are picturesque Island and Icy lakes. Here I encounter Warren and Karen, who had hiked up Icy Lake trail to meet me. I shar a sandwich and a moment with them, then I continue on. Crossing a creek on an animal trail, I then follow a traverse across steep hillsides down valley to the next climb. I break out of the woods onto high grassy slopes, where I travel off trail over ridges to another high pass and down into Bear Creek valley, eventually picking up a hiking trail that I follow back down into Silverton. I finish at 6pm, just in time for a delicious prime rib dinner at the Pickle Barrel in Silverton with the family. That was a little tougher than I thought it would be.

The next morning, I become a little anxious thinking about my run. This leg from Silverton to Sherman is slightly longer, higher elevation, and has more off-trail mileage than yesterday. I am unfamiliar with the route, and I also planned to meet my father and Karen at a wilderness campground at the end of the day. What if one of us doesn't make it there? Looking at the frosty ground, I don't relish the idea of being outside at night without a tent or sleeping bag. I pack an extra layer of warm clothes in my pack, and a headlamp, just in case something dire happened.

As I head out of town, I pass the giant canopy tent for the Silverton 6-day, 3-day, 24 hour run that is going on up and down Kendall mountain. This bunch of crazy people is running a one mile loop up and down the mountain, over and over and over. I prefer to travel, and I will hopefully end up in Ouray, where I originally started, two days from now. After a couple brief navigational issues, I find the correct jeep road and head up, up, up to the first pass of the day: Little Giant Pass. The course description reminds me that a slip on the narrow trail cut into the rock here could be fatal; however, the trail is dry and free of snow and easy to travel. After my brief visit to 13000 feet, I drop into Cunningham Gulch, switchbacking steeply down through a scattering herd of sheep in the lowlands, then across the road and up the other side.

The trail up to Green Mountain Pass diagonals up steeply between cliff bands, then follows a ridge into a valley up in the higher reaches of this range. At some point I am supposed to turn left on a vague secondary trail and ascend slopes to a pass, but I do not see the trail. After a little puzzlment, I pull out my topo map and forge out on my own course. I find the pass, then traverse slopes to a 4WD road through Stony Pass. The four-wheelers are out today, enjoying Labor Day weekend. I am quickly across the road, however, and ascend slopes to a small peak at 13200 feet, the high point of the day. A short contour takes me down to Buffalo Boy Ridge.

I have gone only 14 miles in 6 hours, so I am currently on the 12 hour plan, giving me an hour of sunlight left after my arrival at Sherman. This high altitude stuff is killing me slowly, as I find myself walking some of the flat sections above 12000 feet, not to mention all the uphills. However, most of the climbing is over, so I hope to pick up speed in the second half of the day. I try to call my father and let him know how I am doing, but there is, as I expected, no cell phone service.

Next, I drop steeply down a trail into Maggie Gulch. Once in the basin, I again have problems with the course description. After wandering around the basin for a short bit looking for a sheepherder's camp, I give up and strike out on my own again, descending the basin through open fields and light brush to the drainage at the bottom, where I cross a stream and arrive at the end of the 4WD road marking the location of the hypothetical aid station. On this run there are no aid stations, so I carry my food for the whole day with me. I do need to refill with water soon, however. Given the evidence of mining activity immediately around me, I decide to wait until the next stream.

Next, I climb up slopes and intersect with the Continental Divide trail, which takes me easily to the next pass and on into the Pole Creek drainage. The trails are becoming easier to follow and very runnable, although somehow I still manage to follow a trail that disappears on me a short way into the drainage. I can spot the correct trail nearby, and so I easily traverse over to it. Daylight and open spaces makes correcting my course fairly easy. Now I glide along, slowly losing altitude down West Pole Creek basin to the confluence with the main fork of Pole Creek. I hike and occasionally run as I slowly gain altitude up the main fork of Pole Creek.

My last climb is off trail and over the pass into the Cataract Creek basin. Once again, I cannot quite follow the directions of the Hardrock course description, so I bushwhack up to the correct area. I am glad I have USGS 7.5' quads of the area, as I feel confident about finding my way irrespective of the trail description. I work my way through heavy bushes and come out a the pass, where there is still a Hardrock trail marker dangling from a cairn. Hooray! It is all downhill from here.

The last five miles takes me past a few serene lakes, then down Cataract Gulch. The more I descend towards the trailhead, the more well-defined and easy to run the trail becomes. I make very good time, arriving at camp Sherman at 5:30pm, 10.5 hours after I left Silverton. I had spent a non-trivial amount of time on this leg wandering around trying unsuccessfully to figure out the exact course description. Tomorrow will be much easier. Warren and Karen, the great crew that they are, have already set up my tent and are making me dinner. Yum!

Sunday is my final leg. After a delicious pancake breakfast, I say "see you soon" to the family and I set out for Ouray. I make good time up 4WD roads to a trailhead and turnoff to Handies Peak. A small village of people are camped here, ready to climb a 14'er. The trail up Handies is very well established, and I can put my maps away and just speed-hike along, up, up, up to the basin below the peak, up a ramp, up the ridge, then over the top, still on the well-established trail. At least a dozen people are already at the top this morning, and I passed many more on my way up. It is a bit windy and crowded on top, so I take only a minute to enjoy the view, then I turn south and cruise down the other side of the peak into American Basin.

A faint side trail leaves American Basin and takes me over American-Grouse Pass into Grouse Gulch. I lunch at a small lake in the upper basin, then follow an established trail down the valley to a 4WD road. I don't really look forward to the 5 mile run/hike up the road to Engineer Pass on the Alpine Loop, a popular 4WD circuit. Jeeps, motorcycles, and little 4WD buggies pass me in both directions constantly as I continue up the road. The scenery of the valley below is amazing, however, and I can understand why everyone and their mother would want to be here.

At Oh Point (it is named such because people look at the view and say "Oooh!"), I wave at the gaggle of jeepers enjoying the view, then I dive over the edge and into Bear Creek basin. No 4-wheelers are going to follow me here. I skirt a huge herd of sheep that fills the upper basin, picking up a trail lower down that will take me all the way down to the highway six miles away. This trail is beautiful as it drops into a narrow walled valley past a couple old mine sites, then skirts along the walls as the edge drops precipitously down to the stream bed hundreds of feet below. At the hanging valley's mouth, I drop steeply down shale-covered switchbacks to the highway just outside of Ouray.

I travel trails that weave back and forth between the highway and the Uncompaghre River as I descend into Ouray, then I turn onto city streets for the last half mile to the city park. I finish at the gazebo where I started four days ago, take off my shoes, and soak my appreciative feet in the creek. I am home.

Chuckanut 50km Trail Run

The Chuckanut 50km race went well. The day was beautiful, cool and overcast, and the course was in the best possible condition. It seemed like everyone else in the ultrarunning community was there to participate. And the field was stacked with good runners, too, so times were going to be fast. I definitely was not going to concern myself with what place I was in this year, as I really doubted that I could break into the top 20 without a superbly excellent race.

The race starts with a 10 km section along the Interurban Trail out of Fairhaven, then an 18-19 mile loop on Chuckanut Mountain, then a final 10 km section back along the Interurban Trail to the finish. The course has a lot of good elements in it for speedy road runners, and I planned just to try to keep up. I kept a reasonable pace, except On Chinscraper, where I walked the whole way up (and got passed by 4 or 5 runners) in order to focus my reserves on the last 10 miles. I finished in 4:23:32, 25 minutes faster than my race three years ago, but only good enough for 23rd. I managed to sneak in as the 3rd place Master. Thank goodness I'm old. Gary Robbins snapped a picture of me with the faster Masters winners, Adam Hewey and David Papineau.

My friend Susan said to look for her friend Lia at the race. I didn't realize that I would be running with her most of the race, usually behind her trying to keep up. Lia attacked the race with raw energy, and she finished about two minutes behind the previous female course record. Of course, in this race, that was only good enough for third, but the top women trail runners definitely took notice.

Susannah Beck, who was wearing a little hat with rabbit ears on it, was also within view for much of the race. I tried to channel the fox and chase down this trail bunny, but she kept on hopping, until she was finally out of sight.

Jonathan Bernard had a really good race. After going out strong, I did not expect him to blow by me on the first hill and disappear out of sight. I eventually caught up with him on Chinscraper, where he was having some hydration/electrolyte difficulties. Barring that, I'm pretty sure he would have broken the top 20. He will only be getting stronger at every race, too.

The last 10 kilometers is always a battle of will to keep up my speed on the relatively flat path back to the finish and protect my position, which I did for the most part. However, I saw Ellie Greenwood go by like she was on a mission from God, and she beat me by 4 minutes by the end and broke the previous woman's course record, although she still ended up 15 seconds behind Susannah Beck.

I also saw Justin Angle pass me. Even as he slowly pulled away from me, I visualized our Thursday morning tempo runs around Greenlake and found some solace in trying to keep him in sight for as long as possible as he motivated me and pulled me along for the last half hour of the race.

Thanks to Krissy Moehl and Ellen Parker for all their tireless work to make Chuckanut a success once again!


Top finishers:
Andy Martin 3:49:39
Erik Skaggs 3:52:33
Adam Campbell 3:52:59

Women:
Susannah Beck 4:19:33 (new course record)
Ellie Greenwood 4:19:46
Lia Slemons 4:25:29

Double AssKicker Cougar/Squak Trail Run

I've been playing around with my GPS to see what it would take to map some of my trail runs. Yesterday I did a favorite of mine, which we coined the "double asskicker" route on Cougar/Squak. The first couple climbs seem fine, but by the time I get to the third one, I'm worn out, and the last one really works me over. Here's the basic route:

From Redtown TH at Cougar, head up Cavehole trail. Turn R on the Coal Creek Falls. Turn L on Quarry. Turn R on Fred's. Turn L on Shy Bear. Turn L on Wilderness Peak.
Drop down Wilderness Cliffs Trail, then L on Squak Connector Trai down to highway.

Go L on highway for 100 meters and cross highway to Squak West Access Trail. Continue to follow this trail until it merges onto a larger road (I forget what it is called). Head R and continue to climb. Follow signs at this point to Central Peak.

At the peak, head down the gravel road for 200 meters and then take a L onto Summit Trail. Take a R on Phils Creek Trail and follow this trail contouring and descending south then west all the way to the South Access road. Turn L down the road and follow it almost all the way to the main road. When you can see the parking lot for the Squak Mtn Trailhead through the trees on the left (there are bathrooms there, by the way), turn R onto trail that says "Central Peak 3.2". If you go a little too far and turn R at the trail just beyond this one, you will end up doing a loop on a short interpretive trail.

Follow this trail (Bullit Gorge Trail) back up the mountain. There are a couple intersections where a right turn will take you quickly back to the South Access Road, whereas the left turn will keep taking you up the mountain. Stay left on these - they should probably be marked with a sign saying that the Central Peak is to the left. There is also one unmarked intersection 10 feet after crossing a bridge over a large creek in which you should turn right and head up the mountain, where a left turn takes you who knows where, probably eventually into a housing development or something.

Higher up, you will come across a sign for the Perimeter Loop Trail. Go L here, following the Perimeter Loop Trail around the west side of Squak West Peak. At the next intersection go L on Chybinski Loop Trail. After a very short uphill, this trail drops all the way back down to the
West Access Trail. Turn L and follow West Access Trail back down to the road.

Cross the highway back to Cougar Mountain and back up the Squak Connector Trail. At the intersection where you earlier turned onto the Connector Trail, go straight/leftish onto Wilderness Creek Trail, and stay R a short while later, heading back up Wilderness Creek. The trail climbs for a mile back up to the upper intersection of the Wilderness Peak/Wilderness Creek loop. Turn L here onto Long View. There are a couple of intersections with access trails that I do not remember very well. Stay on Long View (R at an intersection or two), then turn R on Deceiver, then follow this to Shy Bear. L on Shy Bear. L at intersections with Far Country Viewpoint. Drop down to Indian Trail road at bottom of hill. Turn R. Turn L at De Leo Wall Trail, then immediate R onto Wildside. L at junction a half mile further on with larger road, then continue fairly straight through many intersections, following signs for Wildside for another half mile. When trail exits onto gravel road/trail, jog L, then R onto trail again and go over creek. L onto another gravel road/trail which takes you quickly back to Redtown.

It is best to take the Greentrails map for Cougar and Squak. There is usually also a decent trail map at the trailhead for Cougar Mountain, but you will need the Greentrails map for Squak.

Total Distance: 19.5 miles (I added a little to GPS measurement of 18.7 miles due to small twists and turns on the trails that GPS doesn't pick up)

Total Elevation Gain/Loss: 5370 ft (verified by both GPS and altimeter watch)

Tribute to the Trails - 2010 Trail Running Calendar

I know that I should have mentioned this earlier, as your probably sayin' that your favorite loved one has already given you a 2010 calendar for Christmas or whatever, however....

Go out and buy the "Tribute to the Trails" calendar. Not only does this calendar feature a very small picture of me, but Glenn Tachiyama has created this calendar as a fundraiser to Washington Trails Association, so you can help build trails while hanging pretty calendar art on your wall.

I am the guy in red, way in back as usual.

Big Tahoma Rogaine

Andrew and I were going to participate in the 24 hour Big Tahoma Rogaine down near Mt Rainier, but Andrew hurt his hamstring last week and had to stay home. I'm a bit burned out on everything else I've been doing, so I looked forward to doing the 6 hour event solo (solo participants can do the 6 hour event, whereas teams may do the 6/12/24 hour events).

I got up too early on Saturday morning and drove down to Ashford and up the forest roads to the event start, which was in the same location as the Fall Beast race last year. Eric Bone showed up customarily late with the maps, but we started within 10 minutes of the posted start time with a little less time to plan our route. The skies were clouded over and the temp was about 40 degrees, but the rain was supposed to hold off until Saturday night, not affecting us 6 hour folk. I decided to treat this as I would a 50km trail run, and brought just a windshirt and tights, hat and gloves with me. In hindsight, this was a mistake.

I planned an ambitious route that would cover 45 km or so and hit two areas that had some controls with large point values, with a place or two to skip a checkpoint if I was getting behind. Right from the start, it included a long climb to High Hut to get me warmed up, and after the first 15 minutes or so, I was in my t-shirt, hiking/running up the hill feeling good.

At the very first CP, I took off a glove to punch the checkpoint and write my name in the log. I was the first one there. Other people were following me, and in my hurry, I dropped my glove somewhere, realizing only a few minutes later. I would have liked to have that glove later on.

Everything went reasonably smoothly for the first couple hours, and I did very well at navigating to the checkpoints. The climb to High Hut was straightforward, and kept me warm with all of the frost on the ground and trees around me. I was especially happy when I navigated straight to CP 65, which required following a couple overgrown rides then bushwhacking to a "subtle hilltop". I decided to skip a 50 point CP in order to give me a little more time for the second half, then I ran into problems.

Checkpoint 64 did me in. It wasn't that hard to find, but required bushwhacking 300 vertical feet down a ridge across slippery logs. I fell three times in a row and my body was a bit unhappy. Going back up, I had to go 600 vertical feet back up the ridge to get to another path. The faintest trail was marked on the map, but I could not find anything and ended up heading through bushes that were completely laden with water from dew or the previous night's rain. In any case, I was soaked within minutes, and I spent what felt like a half hour thrashing around in the bushes, cold and soaked to the bone. My fingers stopped working; I was miserable.

I headed back to do the second loop in bad shape. The day was still cloudy, so I was not warming up much. My shoe got untied and I couldn't retie it. The strap on my thumb compass came off, and I could not rethread that either. Then I dropped my compass while trying to get some food, and only noticed it a short time later. I spent the next five to ten minutes hiking back and forth like a drowned rat packing, looking for my compass, shivering with my shoe untied. I was deciding at this point whether to fake a debilitating injury and call it quits when I spotted my compass on the ground. Not too much time lost. Maybe I would keep going, but no more bushwhacking.

I tried to find CP 43 which was off the road down a reentrant, but after a short effort, I turned around, as there was too much brush. Then I headed up for a long climb up and over a ridge. At one point, I turned around, deciding to call it quits again, but after hiking back down only 30 feet or so, I psyched myself up again and decided to continue on. Being alone brings out the difficult psychological battles in me, apparently. It would have been nice to have a partner to work with to keep me going strong.

After getting another couple easy checkpoints along the road, I got to an intersection where I could head up to some of the higher scoring ones, but I decided I did not have the time or determination to do so, and I followed another trail that would loop back to the start. I completely went past CP 23, which I thought might be easily visible from the road, but it wasn't. No turning back, though. At another intersection, I had a chance to go for a couple more CPs that were on side roads, but my will was gone and it had started to flurry, so I kept following the course back to the start/finish. I picked up a couple more CPs along the way back, then grabbed a couple easy ones near the start/finish before checking out in 5 hours 30 minutes. As I had run to the last couple CPs along the road, I had actually started to warm up by the time I got back, but otherwise I had been miserable for the last two and a half hours. I wrung the water out of my hat and called it a day.

It turns out that my 725 points was enough to finish in 2nd place of all the 6 hour folks (including the people who were on bike half the time), and Matt Hart was only 30 points ahead of me. I could easily have picked up another 30 or 50 points in the half hour I had left, and won. I guess that goes to show that one should never give up. Next time, though, I'm bringing my gortex jacket.

Wonderland Trail in a weekend

Brock Gavery and Sam Thompson planned to head out and run the Wonderland Trail this past weekend. It was something that I've wanted to do, so I asked if I could go, and I joined in. I had run the Wonderland Trail from Mowich Lake to White River (the long way) last year, but I still had yet to do the whole thing in one push. Brock/Sam planned on stopping in Longmire for dinner and a short bivy, but otherwise they were going to run/hike straight through.

We each dropped off a small bag at Longmire before we started, containing a bivy sack, a little food, and a couple extra pieces of clothing. The Inn would not hold these bags for us, so we tied them to a tree in the woods, hoping they would be there when we arrived the next day. After dinner and a trip back to Mowich Lake, we took at three hour nap before our expected 12:45 am start.

Night travel was slow, and we started to wonder whether we would actually make it to Longmire by the time the restaurant closed at 7:45pm that night, 60 miles away. Once the sun came up, however, we started to speed up a lot on the downhills, and we pulled into White River at 8:15am. The longest, fastest downhill section, however, was a somewhat quad-busting section coming down from Indian Bar to Box Canyon. The climb up to Reflection Lakes took forever, as we were tired and knew that we did not need to hurry anymore, but once at Reflection Lakes, more long easy downhills led us into Longmire at 5:20pm (16 hours 35 minutes).

Dinner at the Inn was fabulous: pasta, soup, bread, beer, cobbler for dessert. Looking at the amount of food I had in my pack, I'm glad I could load up on the calories at the Inn for Sunday, as I had not brought my own dinner along. After dinner we wandered into the woods and found a nice soft spot in the forest on which to lie down. I put on all my warm clothes as it was fairly chilly out, but once in my bivy I was quite warm and comfortable. We went to bed around 7:30pm and woke up again at 12:30am, ready for a 1:15am departure. Noone really wanted to do the trip from Longmire back to Mowich as we were all a bit sore from yesterday, but Mowich was where the car was so we had to go.

The second night was much colder than the first, and we kept some of our warm clothes on as we hiked half-awake up and down the ridges, awaiting the light of the day to perk us back up again. We really didn't run until daylight, and we were averaging about 2.5 miles per hour for most of the first half of the second day's "run". We did find a very nice runnable section towards the end, from Golden Lakes down to South Mowich Camp, where we ran 6 miles in an hour, but otherwise we were mostly hiking the second day. We pulled into Mowich Lake campground at 2:15pm (13 hours). Total time car to car was 37.5 hours. The trip was a bit more grueling than I thought it was going to be; however, the weather stayed reasonable, we all made it back without too much injury and we did what we set out to do, so it was definitely a success. I'm glad it's over, though.

Sam has a slightly more detailed writeup on our trip.

Hiking the Hard Rock

Running with James Varner the other month, I told him how the Wonderland Trail around Mount Rainier was one of my favorite trails. He indicated that it was one of his as well, but that the course for the Hardrock 100 mile trail run was his favorite trail. This made an impression on me, and so I decided to hike some of it during the week after the Imogene Pass Trail run, as I would be out in the area anyways. I asked my father to join me for an overnight trip from Tellurdie to Silverton, and he said OK.

The Hardrock 100 follows a 28 mile course from Telluride to Silverton at an average elevation of 11,000 feet. It crosses a 13,160 foot pass and it includes 10,000 feet of elevation gain. My father provided the camping gear, which was the heavy old school kind of gear. My pack was full after putting in the sleeping bag, pad and 3 person tent (for extra room). I barely had enough room to throw in a piece of warm clothing or two, then we were off.

Karen dropped us off in Telluride, planning to meet up with us the next evening in Silverton. The weather was looking grim, with expected rain and thunderstorms, but we were determined to give the hike our best effort. Karen left town with the car, and we were on our own.

The hike from Telluride up to the two passes (Oscars and an unnamed one) was the longest climb of the trip. We climbed almost 4500 feet in intermittent rain and sunshine. The views were as beautiful as James had said, though. As we neared the pass, we saw a thunderstorm way off to our right, and heard another way off to our left, but we crossed the 13,160 pass with sunshine above us and no fear of electrocution.

From Oscars Pass, we dropped down a steep, steep, rocky jeep road towards Ophir road. We missed the turn to Chapman aid station (or where it would be), but using our USGS quad and the course description, we quickly got back on track. I found it fun to try to follow the unmarked course; it gave an extra feeling of adventure and exploration to the trip.

We next climbed up Swamp Creek basin to Swamp/Grant pass. The last portion of this was across rocky scree-ish fields and then across a basin to finally climb up an almost impossibly steep slope to the pass. The slope looked impossible from a distance (due to foreshortening), but was a little more moderate when we got up close. We still slid back down the slope with every other step. The other side felt even steeper right near the top. I can't believe that people do this as a trail run.

Below us was Island Lake, and from there we dropped down to Lower Ice Lake and detoured off the Hardrock course to find a campsite. Darkness was threatening to set in by the time we set up our tent, and we quickly ate and crawled into our tent as the rain moved in. We were beat, having climbed a cumulative 7000 feet during the course of the day, even though we only went 15 miles.

I admit that I was a little afraid during the night when the thunderstorms set in. Lightning flashed brightly and thunder quickly followed, reverberating loudly off the peaks around us. I was so glad that we were 2000 feet below the pass, and that we had made it over all the passes without lightning setting in. Thunderstorms moved through every couple hours during the night, providing me a fitful sleep at best.

We woke in the morning to find a dusting of snow on our tent and on the mountains around us. Today was an easier day, so we took our time eating breakfast and packing up, and we hit the trail at 9:30am or so. Shortly after we started, we ran into Karen, who was hiking up to Ice Lakes from a nearby trailhead, having driven up from Silverton this morning. After a short chat, we continued on, while Karen headed up to Upper Ice Lakes for a day hike, planning on meeting us back in Silverton in the evening.

An animal trail took us down and across Ice creek to the Kamm Traverse. The course description marks certain spots as "Exposure. Acrophobia", but they weren't so bad. I might feel differently if I were trying to run along it though. After a fairly short exposed section, the Kamm Traverse joined an abandoned jeep trail which dropped down to the road, which we crossed. We forded a stream (ankle deep) and bushwhacked a short distance to pick up another trail that headed up and across towards Porcupine Basin. After the stream crossing in Porcupine basin, we lost the trail briefly, but just headed upwards until we picked it up again.

We gained the wide ridge and pass between Porcupine and Cataract basins. To our right we saw two wolves peering at us from over the ridgeline. They might have been red wolves - certainly larger than coyotes. Weather was moving in again as we moved along the ridge to climb up and over to Putnam basin. It started to snow, but at least there was no thunder/lightning as we scrambled to attain the highest ridge and dropped down to the pass and into Putnam Basin, our climbing finally done for the day.

The rest of our day was a relaxing descent down Putnam and Bear Creek basins to Silverton. The very end of the trail was very muddy and chopped up by horses that had come out of the horse camp by the road to Silverton. Not the best way to finish, but we were glad to be done. We looked forward to fording Mineral Creek to wash off our muddy shoes. The creek was about a foot deep where we crossed and refreshing. The other side of the creek was muddy and soggy, however, and our shoes got twice as muddy as before just trying to go 30 yards to the highway.

As Karen was waiting patiently for us to arrive in Silverton, we decided to call her and have her pick us up along the highway rather than hike the last mile or two into town. Then it was time for prime rib at the Pickle Barrel and a good night's sleep.

Imogene Pass Trail Run

My father has been talking about the Imogene Pass Run for a couple years, asking me if I would come out to run the race in 2010 when he turns 70. He wanted to break the 70+ age group record, and as he held the age group record for 65-69 year olds for a few years, he definitely had his chances. I signed up, as did Wayne, Kathy and Karen. It would be a family outing.

Kathy and I flew out from Seattle to Ouray, CO on Friday, the afternoon before the race. I've heard that if you do a race immediately after going to altitude, that it does not affect you that much. Don't believe a word of it. We were feeling winded in Ouray at only 7800 feet in elevation, and the trail run crested out at 13,1oo feet high.

Kathy and I had been to Ouray before a couple of years ago in the winter time to go ice climbing. Ouray is the ice climbing capitol of the world, at least according to us Seattle folks. There is no really good ice climbing in Washington state unless you like climbing up glaciers. In Ouray, we can climb one of dozens of frozen waterfalls within ten minutes of our hotel, and then come back and enjoy a warm soak in the hotel hottub.

The trail race turned out very nice. Threats of rain were not realized, although during the awards ceremony afterwards, marble-sized chunks of hail rained down on us. I squeaked a few times when I was conked on the head by a particularly pointy hailstone. I was glad that the mountains spared us this weather earlier in the day when we were hiking our way over the pass.

I did a lot of hiking during the race. The course is 17 miles long and has 5500 feet of elevation gain from Ouray up to Imogene Pass over the cours of 10 miles, then drops 7 miles and 4500 feet into Telluride. I tried to run as much as I could, but is hard with one lung tied behind your back. Even so, I felt pretty good and finished the race in just over three hours time.

Wayne tried a different training tactic in which he ran 7 miles a couple months ago and then never ran again. He relied exclusively on his good running genes that he got from our dad. he finished in four hours, then promptly passed out before he even made it out of the finishers gate. This unofficial study of twins suggests that months of hard training will only decrease your finishing time by 33% compared to sitting on the couch and listening to Chinese language tapes.

My dad had a good race too, but not quite good enough to beat the course record. I think he was three minutes too slow, but he did win his age group (like he usually does). Karen and Kathy had more relaxing runs. Everyone in the family made it safely to the finish line in Telluride. Looking at the medic tent, I could see that many people did not; many were having their hands and knees patched up after having suffered falls on the steep, rocky run down.

I've told my friends that often the drive home is harder than the race. I was refering to doing 24 hour races (e.g. adventure races, rogaining) in which it is very easy to fall asleep at the wheel after having stayed up for so long, but it was true in this case as well. Our friend's dog tried to lick my face, and I playfully pretended to lick his as well. Then he bit me in the face. Now I have teeth marks on my eyebrow. Lesson learned: don't lick a gift dog in the face, or something like that.

Cascade Crest 100 Mile Trail Run

On Saturday August 29th, I headed out to Easton to attempt my first 100 mile trail run. I decided early this year to choose the local 100 mile race, Cascade Crest, as I would know a lot of the other runners in the race and I could pre-run the course. The race filled up the day after registration opened in February. Luckily, I was in.

It started to rain Friday evening, and continued to rain as I drove out to Easton Saturday morning, finally clearing up as I reached Hyak. The rain never materialized on the east side of the crest, making for perfect weather in the 50s and 60s. It easily could have been 20 degrees warmer.

The race started at 10am, and I settled in to an easy pace, trying to stay behind James Varner and Jamie Gifford, who I knew had enough experience to run the race wisely (Jamie completed his 10th Cascade Crest race this year). We climbed about 3000' steeply to Goat Peak, then on to Cole Butte. I got ahead of both James and Jamie, and I remember thinking that I might be going too fast, so I tried to slow down even more. Another 1500' descent and climb led us to Blowout Mountain.

I had given Andrew (my pacer) a timeline that had me finishing in 23 hours 15 minutes, and I came into Cole Butte and Blowout Mountain right according to that schedule. I suddenly had severe cramping and GI issues, however, and visions of DNF'ing flashed through my head. How could I be having problems at only 14 miles in? Was I going to blow out at Blowout? I was almost doubled over at one point, but after some ginger ale at the aid station a couple minutes break, I felt better. I did not have any more problems like that for the rest of the race, thankfully.

After Blowout, a long sweeping downhill led us to Tacoma Pass. James Varner passed by me like a blur. Adam Hewey caught up with me as well, and we ran together for a while through Tacoma Pass. Adam had high aspirations for his finish time, and so in short time he also moved on. Mist and clouds enveloped the ridge beyond Tacoma Pass, making the afternoon almost but not quite too cold. The weather was perfect for running.

I came into Stampede Pass (mile 34) at 4:15pm, 45 minutes ahead of my timeline. I was developing some hotspots, however, so I spent 10 minutes playing with my feet while I ate a pasta lunch I had packed in my dropbag and some soup from the aid station volunteers. Johnathan Bernard pulled just as I was leaving. He seemed to be having a reasonable race.
I grabbed my iPod from my dropbag at Stampede Pass and listened to tunes on my way to Hyak. I knew this part of the course as I had run most of it on a rainy day the previous month. Luckily, the rain did not arrive today and I stayed dry through the bushy parts. Although I was mostly alone, I did start meeting and passing people who were struggling a little more than I was.

Oddly, I did not feel like I was racing a race against the other people on the course. We were all fighting our own battles, and some of us had harder battles to fight than others. My job was to find the easy battle to fight, so I kept listening to my body and not trying to push it too hard.
As the tunnel was closed, the course was rerouted this year to go over the ski slope at Hyak and down. The RD (on advice from James Varner?) chose a challenging rock strewn gully-like path for us to come down. I was happy that there was still just enough light by which to navigate it.

I pulled into Hyak just after dusk at 8:15pm (an hour ahead of my timeline for a 23:15 finish). Andrew and Kathy were both waiting for me with a chair set up for my and all my gear spread out. I enjoyed more pasta and soup while they looked at a blister that had developed and patched it up. I switched shoes and socks as well, and the blister did not bother me for the rest of the race. I spent about 20 minutes in the aid station; I was not really in a speed racing mindset. I gave Kathy and hug, and Andrew and I headed out for the second half of the race.

Andrew and I ran the frontage road for a couple miles before it became unpaved and headed upwards. Jamie Gifford and his pacer, Jim Kerby, caught up with us, and we traded spots back and forth all the way up to Keechelus Ridge aid station. Kerby is extremely friendly and enthusiastic, and while trying to give me a pat on the back and wish me luck at the aid station, managed to get me to spill potato soup all down my shirt. I looked like I had vomited, but that is all part of the image, I thought.

We sped down the other side of Keechelus Ridge with only slight twinges from my legs. I felt great. Andrew and I pulled into Kachess Lake aid station (which had a Halloween theme) and got ready for the Evil Forest. I spent more time than I should have, once again, rummaging through drop bags and deciding what food to bring; I vowed to be quicker at Mineral Creek. As I checked out, I found out that I was in 12th place. If we could pass a couple more people, I'd be in the top 10... We headed up the road a short bit to where a skeleton beckoned us to climb a dirt slope and enter the Evil Forest.

The five miles along Kachess Lake are the most technical section, and required us to scramble up/down difficult sections, climb over logs, and crawl through the branches of downed trees. It certainly did feel spooky at night time. Andrew brought his mega-powered mountain biking light which really helped (it also helped on the logging roads, too, so that we could see the grade of the road for the next few hundred yards and know when to run vs. hike). We moved along quite well, and I only fell on my face once, with no injuries. We passed Chris Twardzik here, who described himself as being in "a difficult spot". He looked like a ghost. We pressed on.

Andrew and I quickly moved through the Mineral Creek aid station at mile 74 and hit the road. I started to feel like racing now - only a marathon to go. That marathon included a 3000' climb up to Thorpe Mountain, however. We headed up the logging road at a fast walk, and caught up with another runner at the crew stop a couple miles up the road. I was feeling better and better.
As we were approaching the Noname Ridge aid station, we saw a sign at the side of the road. It had a walkie-talkie attached to it and a menu. Apparently, you could call in a food order and they would prepare it for you while you hiked the next five minutes to the aid station. All the items had cheese in them though, but I was not in a cheese mood, so we did not order anything.
I was shocked at Noname aid station to see James sitting in a chair. "What are you doing here?" I blurted out. Another runner was also there saying that he had had enough and was going to drop. It seemed like there was a lot of carnage going on in the front part of the field. Andrew and I quickly moved on, and Laura Houston (one of the volunteers) wished me luck from afar as we were already headed up the trail.

The climb to Thorpe was not as difficult as I had remembered from my practice run the other month, and Andrew and I ran a lot of the flat to slightly rolling parts. We passed by Arthur Martineau, who was looking a bit peaked. The climb from the aid station to the lookout and back down certainly was hard and steep, though. As Andrew and I started up the climb, another runner and pacer came down, looking strong-tacular. We timed our out and back as being 15 minutes long, so they would be incredibly hard to catch up with, looking as good as they did. As Andrew and I came down, we saw another runner heading up. Chris Twardzik? Apparently he had come back from the land of the dead and was now 10 minutes behind us. I had visions of him passing me at the last few minutes of White River the other month, and vowed not to let that happen again. We picked up our pace some more.

The Cardiac Needles after Thorpe were quite steep, and definitely got our hearts racing. As we topped out on the last of them, we found the strong-tacular runners sitting by the side of the trail. They said "this is where runners come to die". I guess looks are deceiving. Our climbing for the race mostly over, Andrew and I descended towards the lights of French Cabin aid station.
I had been looking forward to the bacon at French Cabin for the whole race. As we arrived to the aroma of bacon cooking, however, I became worried that trying something new (meat and grease) might cause my stomach problems. I had come to a gentleman's agreement with my stomach on how we would work together, and I decided not to upset the balance, so I had a PBJ instead. The aid station volunteer said the bacon was not ready in any case. Maybe he was just being nice.

After a final short climb out of the basin, it was all downhill, and we picked up our speed. We dropped down into Silver Creek basin and started to motor along. My legs and body were feeling great, and a steady flow of endorphins kept me feeling electric. I told Andrew once or twice to pick up the pace, and when he started to walk up on of the hills (which had been our MO through the night), I chided him. Now is the time to run with the wind. Or like the wind, or whatever.

As we dropped down to Silver Creek aid station, I ate three Gus (which was more than I had eaten during the rest of the race combined) for quick energy, and we motored right through the aid station and onto the roads/paths that would lead us back into Easton. I caught myself glancing behind us, nervous that someone would catch up with us at the last second. Once we were entering Easton, however, I saw there was nobody close (the next finisher was 20 minutes behind us) and I relaxed enough to pick up aluminum cans along the way to recycle when we finished. Andrew and I crossed the finish line in 21:23:20 in 6th place. Kathy arrived 10 minutes after we finished, and while she did not get to see us finish, I'm glad she was there.

We all hung out at the finish line for a couple hours, chatting with other runners, pacers and volunteers and enjoying the camaraderie of the sport. Special thanks to Charlie Crissman, the race director, for all of his efforts to make this race happen, as well as to the numerous volunteers who spent the whole night out on the course and made sure that we runners were healthy and happy. I was definitely happy.

GreenTrails Expedition

James Varner had apparently hooked up with GreenTrails and contracted to GPS several of the trails down by Mount Rainier for them. He asked if I'd like to help provide logistical support for him for the first half of the week (aka a car), and I told him to sign me up. Time for a run-cation!
We also decided to get a training run in on the Cascade Crest course before heading down.

I met James and his friend William on Saturday evening (August 1st) at the pizza place in Rosalyn. Our mission was to run from Kachess Lake (mile 68) to Silver Creek(mile 96) on the CC100 course. We drove to Silver Creek, set up tents and dropped off a car, then headed over to Hyak, arriving at 10pm. From Hyak (mile 53), we drove the logging roads on which we would be running all the way to Kachess Lake. Then about 11pm, we got ready to run.

I can understand now why people go so slow on this section of the course. The rocks, roots and off-camber trail kept us alert and on our toes, especially at night. We spent an hour and a half to go the 5 miles to Mineral Creek, and we were fresh. The next dozen miles took us up over 3000 feet to Thorpe Mountain, where there is a lookout. We couldn't see much at 3am, though. Next came the Cardiac Needles (some steep up and downs that will be painful after 90 miles of running) , and then a nice long downhill to Silver Creek. We arrived at 6:30am (7.5 hours) and promptly crawled into our tents for a four hour nap.

James and I dropped off William at his car back at Kachess Lake, then we headed down to Clearwater Wilderness area to do some trail running. We drove up a road just off the Carbon River and hiked in a mile or so from the trailhead to set up our tents at Twin Lakes.

On Monday we "ran" a 27 mile loop through the Clearwater wilderness. The first few miles and the last few miles were well maintained, and had beautiful views of Mt Rainier. The rest of the trail was either overgrown or covered with blown down trees, and we struggled to stay on track for most of the day. The last section of unmaintained trail traversed the top of a rocky ridge that required some scrambling. After 10 hours of running/bushwhacking/scrambling/wandering, I wondered what I had gotten myself into.

On Tuesday we went to Poch Peak area, along the road to Mowich Lake. The trails here were ORV trails, but many were in reasonable shape for trail running. We saw one vehicle the whole day, so we didn't have to worry too much about motorized traffic. In order to cover all of the trails, we made several loops, and retraced our steps in spots. 4WD roads criss-crossed the trails as well. This area was not a place I would normally go to run trails, but it was interesting to see once. We covered about 25 miles that day, then headed to Mowich Lake campground. We ran the Grindstone trail (a short trail that really goes nowhere) before bed.

On Wednesday, we ran the Spray Park loop plus some extra side trails. The trail started only yards from our campsite, so we could roll out of bed and start running. I really enjoyed running on well-maintained trails again, especially through such beautiful scenery. The Wonderland Trail is definitely one of my favorites. The wildflowers were abloom up in Spray Park as well. We dropped down to the Carbon River and followed it down to Ipsut campground. Then we headed back up and over Ipsut Pass, which was a somewhat technical grind at the end, and the hot sun took its toll on me. My ankle was killing me as well, and so I threw in the towel. I headed back to Mowich Lake to finish the loop, while James added an extra 3.5 mile side trip to (I forget) Lake, and met me back at the campground. He also had an extra spur section to run on the Wonderland Trail, so I drove him down to the park entrance, from where he ran the spur out to the Wonderland Trail, then ran the WT back up to our campground. Meanwhile, I made us dinner and drank a cold beer.

James' friend William showed up late Wednesday night to take over for me, just in time, too. I was beat. I had covered 100 miles of somewhat difficult terrain over the last four days, and I was ready to go home. James continued on for the next 3 days, covering trails between Mowich Lake and Paradise, and then into the Tatoosh range. He'll definitely be ready for the Cascade Crest race, having put in almost 200 miles over the course of the week. Impressive.

White River 50 Miles

In the days heading up to White River, I was a little anxious about how I would perform. I strained my back moving furniture over to our new house in Wallingford, and I also worried about the heat, as I have run very few races during the summer. I also wanted to do well so that I could place high in the Washington Ultra Series. I decided to forgo Cascade Crest training runs for a few days and spend some time at home, fixing things around the house, and by race day I felt OK.

I drove down on Friday afternoon with my friend and fellow adventure racer, Murray Maitland. We set up our tents at Buck Creek, a couple hundred yards from the start/finish, then headed over to packet pickup, where I was immediately heckled by Adam Hewey for turning 40 and entering the Master's category only a few weeks ago. I had already decided not to join USATF (necessary in order to compete for prize money) and Adam seemed relieved to hear that. I didn't really want to feel pressured to compete, as I enjoy a race much more when it feels more relaxed and social.

I woke up at 4:45am to the sound of a caravan of cars arriving for the early start at 5:30, and I spent my time planning in my mind how much water I would need at each aid station and what food to pack with me. I usually do not rely at all on aid stations for food, and instead pack a small waist pouch with sufficient food to complete half the race. I leave another pouch of food in the drop bag at Buck Creek for the second half of the race, along with two extra water bottles of my favorite energy drink mixture, so I can quickly swap out as I go by.

At 6:30am, we are toeing the line, ready to start, although we delay for about a minute while we all wait for Scott Jurek to come back from the porta-potties. I try to stay back mid-pack as I really need to learn to start slower, and I figure that putting a bunch of bodies in front of me will help me with that. The countdown hits zero, and we are off.

I run comfortably for the first ten minutes, and then I start passing a few slower people as I warm up. Soon I am running right behind Chris Twardzik, who is the one person I'd like to beat in this race, as we are competing for the Washington Ultra Series. After several minutes behind him, I decide that I am going to let him chase me in this race, and speed up to catch the next chain of runners up ahead. I enjoy running behind three or four other runners, as their energy pulls me effortlessly along, and we continue on past the first aid station (3.9 miles / 32 minutes?) and into the climb up to Ranger Creek.

As the climb steepens, I pull away from some of the slower runners in the paceline, until I am behind Prudence L'Heureux. After she stumbles and drops her Powerbar into the bushes then goes to retrieve it, I am on my own for a while, speed-walking the steeps and jogging the mellower sections of the climb to Ranger Creek.

I pull into Ranger Creek (11.7 miles / 1:53?) with both my bottles empty. I quickly fill up one bottle of water and I'm off again. I feel pretty great. No back issues either. The trail here climbs up through the trees some more and pops out a couple times at amazing overlooks atop thousand foot cliffs - nice! The climbing is mostly over, and we follow some beautiful ridgeline singletrack on our way to Corral Pass. This section is an out-and-back, so everyone gets a chance to say hi to friends or scope out the competition, depending on their attitude. A couple of the sections are a bit narrow, and the guy in front of me falls off the trail as he steps off to let a runner come by in the opposite direction. When I see Kami Semick coming back at us, I know I am close, and I arrive at Corral Pass a minute later (16.9 miles / 2:45?). I fill up my bottle with water again and leave.

I remember two years ago when I did this race. In retrospect, training 30 miles a week does not a 50 mile racer make. I went out fast, and by the time I reach Corral Pass, I was not ready to leave. I spent a few minutes at every aid station, eating and drinking and trying to recover. In the end, I almost killed myself to finish sub 9 hours. This time around, I am beating a 10 minute per mile pace, and I've still got a big downhill to come. And I feel great.

I start retracing my steps back toward Ranger Creek, only to pass Chris Twardzik going the other way, just a couple minutes behind me. I still have my work cut out for me. I say hi to all of my friends as we pass and before I know it I am back at Ranger Creek. One of the aid station workers, Scott, knows my name and says he knows me from living in Queen Anne. Small world. At the end of the race, he'll even share some beers with me.

Back to the present, we turn onto a new trail for a steep downhill section towards Buck Creek. This section is my favorite part. The trail is soft and the descent is long and shaded, punctuated occasionally by a switchback. I see glimpses of a runner behind me. It is Adam Hewey, who heckled me a little last night. He and I pull into Buck Creek together (mile 27.2 / 4:10?) . I quickly restock my food and grab two filled bottles from my dropbag, and I'm off. After I leave though, I wait for Adam for a few seconds to catch up so that we can run together and chat. He is angling for an 8 hour finish, which looks quite feasible at this point. I am happy to have someone to talk with as we mostly hike up the climb to Fawn Ridge.

On our way up, we come across Phi Kochik, who joins in with us. Adam lives in Ballard, and Phil now lives around the corner from my new house in Wallingford. It's funny that they live so close and I haven't talked with either of them before for more than a minute or two.

Fawn Ridge represents two thirds of the climb up to Suntop, and I'm still feeling fine. Clouds came in to cover the sun, which really helped prevent me from overheating. The weather is hot, but not nearly as bad as I had expected and feared.

Phil, Adam and I ran loosely together all the way to Suntop, passing Kami Semick along the way. I feel good to be passing famous ultra-runners at this point in the race. Kami seems most concerned about whether Prudence is behind us. We say that we think she is quite a ways behind, and Kami relaxes a bit. We pull into Suntop (mile 37 / 6:05?) and smile for Glenn, who is taking our pictures with Mt Rainier as a backdrop.

We head on down the forest road at a reasonably relaxed pace. At least, my legs aren't complaining as much as they could be. I do have a huge blister on my sole, however, and it slowly gets bigger as we pound the 3000' of descent down the road to Skookum Flats. We see Hal Koerner turning into Skookum Flats when we are only a few hundred yards away.

We pull into Skookum Flats (mile 43.4 / 6:51) with time to spare to break the 8 hour barrier. I look for a couple Gus, but they don't have any. I am a little behind on my food at this point, as my stomach has been bothering me slightly, but I think I can finish. A couple hundred yards out from the aid station, a feel a little light-headed, and I slow down to eat what I can from my waist bag, letting Adam and Phil disappear into the woods. I continue on. I can feel the heat emanating from my body. The one water bottle that I filled up for the last 6.6 miles is now half-empty. I have to stop and eat a little more. I think that I just ran out of gas.

It's a bit disappointing to run a race so well and then bonk a few miles from the finish line. I think that is what happens when you start looking forward to the finish and stop paying attention to your body. In retrospect, I should have brought an extra water bottle on the downhill from Suntop and ate and drank a little more while I was relaxing on the downhill. In any case, I still have a race to finish.

Next comes the double disappointment. Chris Twardzik passes me with twenty minutes to go. He looks great. I struggle to run as best I can. I run out of water.

At one point, the trail passes very close to White River, and I refill a water battle with silty river water. I pour it on my head as I run. I think that the food is starting to help, or it may just be the lure of the finish line, but I get at least a part of my energy back, and I can run the last several hundred yards to the finish line. Final time was just over 7 hours 50 minutes. 14th place. I was quite happy. I finished 3rd in the Masters category. Only later did I find that the prize money would have been $200 if I had signed up for USATF. Oh well, maybe next year. Congrats to Adam for picking up 2nd place Masters. He'll be tough competition in races to come.
Also, congrats to Anton Krupicka, who broke Uli's old course records by about 30 seconds.

Afterwards, I hobbled down to White River for a post-race soak, then went over to the medical tent to get all the grit out of my blister, which was "the size of Milwaukee" according to the guy there. The atmosphere afterwards was really great, and I lounged around for a couple hours with the other racers watching runners come in.

Enchantments Trail Running

I went out to run the Enchantments loop on June 27th, a popular loop for ultarunners and fast hikers who are unable to get one of the few camping permits in the Enchantments Basin. Kathy also went for a girls-weekend with Victoria, Kristin and Leah, and they planned to hike the loop the same day. We expected to run into each other at some point during the day, and meet for dinner at Gustav's afterwards.

I drove out to Leavenworth early Saturday and started my run from the Stuart Lake trailhead at 9am. I followed a nice trail through the forest up to Colchuck Lake, and rounded it in a counterclockwise direction, aiming for Aasgard Pass. At this point I was rock-hopping more than running. Snow covered part of Aasgard Pass, and waterfalls cascaded down along its right side. I headed straight up along the waterfall/stream, and after passing a rock outcropping on its right, I ascended some steep slabs that eventually became unclimbable and trapped me between rushing snowmelt and steep walls, and I retreated back down to the base of the outcropping. From there, I discovered that the hiker's trail went left, and followed it steeply up the left side of the pass.

At the top I took a breather and chatted with some climbers who were planning on scrambling up Dragontail. It looked inviting, but I had no crampons, ice axe or poles. Maybe next time. The Enchantment Basin was still mostly covered in snow, and I travelled cross country, aiming for Little Annapurna. I climbed easy slabs and snow to reach the summit, with beautiful views of McClellan, Prusik and the rest of the Enchantments. After a few minutes, I headed down and picked up a boot track through the snow towards the lower Enchantment Basin. Mountain goats greeted me. I caught up with Kathy and friends, and we agreed to meet at Gustav's after we had all finished.

I dropped down towards Snow Lake and started to run again, enjoying the 5000 feet of downhill ahead of me. Down, down, down. Near the Snow Lake trailhead, I started to feel the effects of the heat, and I enjoyed stopping at Icicle Creek and soaking my feet when I reached the trailhead. Unfortunately, I still needed to get back to my car at the Stuart Lake trailhead, which was 8 miles away and over one thousand feet higher.

I headed up the road, ready to be done, so I started thumbing for rides. After 15 minutes or so, I caught a ride up to Bridge Creek campground, and started the hike up the side road to Stuart Creek trailhead. On my way, I found a VW hubcap. I had noticed that my car was missing a hubcap the week before. Score! I could use this. I put the hubcap by a turnout in the road and kept hiking. A car came by and gave me a ride to the trailhead and my car. I was done.

I drove back down to the turnout to pick up the hubcap, but it was not there. Then I noticed that my car was missing two hubcaps. Hmmm. I drove to Gustav's, arriving at 6pm, and ate dinner. Kathy and friends showed up an hour later to join me, having completed their own Enchantment loop.

On Sunday, I drove back to Eight Mile TH and ran up to Windy Pass, on the shoulder of Cashmere. A 17 mile round trip, this trail was much more runnable than the Enchantment loop, and was a good complement to the run of the day before. At Windy Pass, the summit of Cashmere beckoned me from a short ways away - perhaps another day. I turned around and headed back. After a milkshake in Leavenworth, I was ready to head home.

Highs and Lows of the Capitol Peak 50 mile Trail Run

I was unsure of whether I wanted to run the Capitol Peak 50 mile trail run, given that I have a 30 hour Adventure Race next weekend, but I eventually convinced myself that if I ran it just as a training run, I could finish feeling good without too many ill effects. So, I packed up my stuff and drove down to the Capitol Forest on Friday night, squeezing myself into a camping spot at Fall Creek shared with two other groups of runners. The race started Saturday morning at 6am, with a 55km option that was being run simultaneously.

Temperatures Saturday morning were in the high 30s, expected to improve to mid 50s or so. The actual weather during the day was all over the place: some clouds, some sun, a little light rain now and then, and a couple snow flurries at the top of Capitol Peak. I wore shorts and short-sleeved tee, with hat and gloves and arm warmers. Gloves are necessary for keeping my hands warm, especially when I am gripping a bottle of cold water in each hand for the whole race. The hat and arm warmers I dumped at my (only) drop bag at mile 19. I warmed myself at the fire barrels going next to the start line while listening to the pre-race meeting, and then we lined up and were off.

I always go out too fast, but this time I let all the front runners go ahead, and they quickly disappeared from view. I even stopped to wait for Gleen, who was just behind me, so that we could chat for a little bit. The first 19 miles of the course are very runnable, however, and I soon settled into a reasonably fast yet comfortable pace.

At mile 19, we came back through the start/finish area, where I picked up two new bottles filled with energy drink from my drop bag and swapped a new pouch of food into my fanny pack. I was eating molasses cookies, Gu, Clif shot bloks and string cheese (hopefully a little fat would keep my stomach settled better), washing it down with a few Endurolyte capsules. Next up was a 5.5 mile climb up Capitol Peak.

As climbs go, this one was fairly mellow, rising 2000 feet over 5 miles. I made sure to stop and walk a couple parts that were steeper in order to give my body a break, but I quickly started jogging again whenever the course flattened out. I reached the aid station at mile 24.5 in exactly four hours, and had already put most of the climbing behind me. I felt great. The aid station personnel mentioned that I was the fourth 50 miler to come past. Not too bad for taking it easy.

We made a three mile loop around and over Capitol Peak before coming past the 24.5/27 mile aid station again. I caught up with one of the 50 mile runners who was looking like he had seen better days. Hiking the steep ascent up to the peak, I also caught up with James Varner, who was doing the 55km. I convince him to switch over to the 50 mile race (the two races separated at mile 27, right ahead of us) so that I would have someone to run with. He agreed.

I waited briefly for James as he told the aid station personnel that he was switching events, and we were off. I felt great. After running with James for another fifteen minutes, he told me to go ahead, as I was definitely full of energy and hitting my stride. I pulled ahead and started thinking about a strong second half showing. I passed a runner sitting by the side of the trail taking of his shoe. I was now in second place. I started to think about racing this one after all.

In between visits to the mile 31.5/43.5 aid station was a six mile long trail that we had to run out and back. I found it a little difficult to run out, as I knew that each step I took was taking me further from the finish, as it had to be retraced. Mentally, it was harder than doing a 12 mile loop. However, we did get to see how we were doing compared to the people in front of us and behind us. When I saw the front runner, I discovered that he was only five minutes ahead of me at the turnaround, and I vowed that if he showed weakness, that I would catch up with him and pass him. James was five minutes behind me, and a couple other runners were a few minutes behind him. Only 13 miles to go.

On my way back, I made a potentially huge blunder. The trail came to road that was marked with flagging to go right. I remember thinking as I turned right onto the road how I hated running on the sections of forest road as I was coming down. I ran along the road for a couple minutes until... it ended. Dead end. No flagging or nothing. I certainly didn't remember this part.

With memories of Orcas Island in 2008 (where Darin Bentley and I ran a bonus fifteen minute loop right before the finish while we were distractedly chatting), I decide quickly to turn around and run back until I met James, and get a second opinion. I made it all the way back to the flagging and discovered a third marker further up in the woods where the trail had crossed the road and continued on the other side of it about twenty feet down the road. I headed back on course again, hoping that my five minute deviation didn't cost me too much. First place definitely looked out of reach now.

It turns out that James and the others were still behind me, but I finished the out-and-back section strong, hoping that they wouldn't catch up. I passed the aid station again (this time at mile 43.5). The last 6.5 miles of the course dropped 1500 feet in a sweet, easy downhill, the perfect kind of finish to a long trail race. I flew down the hill, feeling great and light on my legs, covering the last 6.5 miles in 55 minutes and finishing in a very respectable 7:55. And I felt great, too. I should do these training runs more often.