Malibu Creek 50k: The Return

It has been over 10 months since I have run completely pain free.  I haven't raced in over 6.  Serious injuries are a funny thing.

See, there comes a time where you honestly begin to find it plausible that the pain will never fully subside.  You will be living with this gimp ass knee for the rest of your life and that's just the way it's going to be.  Trying to console yourself with miracle stories of men that were told they'd never walk again running a marathon or heroes who have fully recovered from 13 bullet wounds to the head provides no solace.  This small little injury is going to be the death of you and you're fucking certain of it.  In fact, you may never have been so sure of anything in your entire life.

The crazy thing is, the next thing that happens is that you actually begin to come to terms with this reality.  OK, you say, so I'm now just this permanently jacked up human, and I'm going to have to learn to enjoy running shorter distances and not as fast.  Maybe I'll just become one of those people who take pictures during their races.  It will all be OK.

Of course, then things just come back and you don't even realize it until a few days later when you're like, "holy shit.  I just realized I ran 10 miles last Tuesday and it didn't hurt at all."  You're still planning your foray into racewalking, and all of the sudden you've got yourself a fully functioning knee again.  Such was the ninth week of 2012 for me.  And such was how I went from finally running 10 pain free miles to "accidentally" running 9 seconds off course record pace in a 50k 4 days later.

To be fair, I'd been considering entering the PCTR Malibu Creek 50k for a few weeks, but I wanted to make absolutely certain I was injury free before jumping into a race environment - no matter how low key it was.  Even "taking it easy," it's entirely pointless to me to enter a competitive event if I'm not going to push at least a little.  My knee felt great, but my opposite hip/piriformis/psoas have been acting up as of late - which in all honesty, is to be expected as my body readjusts and re-forms to not having yucca in it.  Lucky for me, Nano PT (Michael Chamoun) came to the rescue with some psoas release on Wednesday that really helped and didn't even make me cry.  So, I was mostly injury free…


Now for the race report part, feel free to listen to this stellar song that was in my head for the entirety of the race.  It is awesome so I didn't mind:

Movement and Location - Punch Brothers
FYI, the whole album is awesome.

Race morning was a beautiful thing for two reasons:  1) the headache I'd had for a day and a half turned out NOT to be sickness and was cured with a few sips of coffee; and 2) the race didn't start until 8:30.  Accordingly, Dom and I took our time gathering provisions, running into friends and driving out to MCSP as the sun gave way to what was bound to be a beautiful day in the Santa Monica Mountains.  I filled a gel flask with PowerGel, threw some CarboPro and Nuun in my handheld and stuffed a few Saltsticks in my key pocket and was all set - no bulk and definitely no extra clothes needed. The fact that I was starting in a sportsbra in MARCH should have been a great indication of things to come.

As it turned out, I had a whole 2 hours and 21 minutes to consider this on the first 25k loop - yet instead, I opted to space out Panda style and think about nothing other than running up hills and how pretty the ocean looked.  To my own defense, I was definitely on top of my nutrition and electrolytes, but I wasn't really thinking about making any adjustments to my original race plan… even as the temperatures rose.  I was just having such an amazing time climbing and smiling and not hurting that I couldn't really think about anything other than how awesome life was.   

I ran in a small little pack of dudes for a bit at the beginning and fell in a small little line when we hit the singletrack.  I felt 100% in control and let a few people go, including one woman who took off blazing. Though it was not a huge race, the energy I had felt standing on the starting line was electric and something I was so deeply grateful to finally feel again.  Thankfully, it was not quick to wear off and before I knew it I was hitting the creek crossing before the first aid station.  Unsurprisingly low, I Mario'd my way across the rocks and escaped with dry feet - which I was happy about since I had elected to wear an old pair of NB101's.  They don't fit as snug/awesomely as the 110 - but I didn't want to risk the newer shoe which my feet are still getting used to.  I chose correctly, as the combo of the classics and a fresh pair of Injinji midweights kept my feet super happy and blister free for the duration of the day.  Hooray for that.

I quickly cruised through the first aid station, just downing a cup of water on my way through - marathon style.  I hit the first steep pitches of Backbone and didn't feel like hiking, so I didn't, which quickly caught me up to a few dudes up ahead.  I passed and then unintentionally ended up locking in behind my friend Bruce - mainly because his shoes looked like Christmas and that made me happy.  We climbed up to the fireroad and before long, I was passing the next little pack of people - including the one woman who I knew was ahead.  Turns out she was running the 25k, which now meant I was leading both races and which also seemed like a remarkably bad idea.  But again, I just didn't feel like hiking and the grade was not as bad as I had remembered from the last time I had run this section of trail.  That would be back in Sept of 2009 when I ran the whole Backbone Trail from Santa Monica to Oxnard, and hit this section at mile 32 of 69.  Needless to say, I felt a whole hell of a lot better on this particular day.

I knew I was pushing a bit on the climb - but that was exactly my plan.  I'd push on the ups and then relax into the downs - hopefully ending with an intact knee and a great workout on the day. As I came around the bend finally high enough to reveal the ocean, I was treated to an incredibly clear, expansive view of Catalina and the glistening Pacific - sea breezes whipping on up the mountain.  It was sunny and warm, but I didn't feel too overheated, and was reminding myself to drink rather than sucking it down out of necessity.  Bruce remained a few steps ahead and we called out a few times when things got particularly beautiful.  I've got to say - I don't normally spend a lot of time in the SMMs on account of always choosing the bigger, steeper San Gabes for my weekend playground, but the past few weekends of crewing Dom at Ray Miller 50 and then running myself on this particular day really made me appreciative of my backyard trails.  This was no Mt. Baldy, but it was incredibly challenging and insanely beautiful in its own respect - not to mention GREAT training for the more rolling terrain of Western States.  I let out an excited whoop of joy as I hit my favorite part of the entire Backbone - "the spine" - which is this awesome sandstone formation right before Corral Canyon.  I ran right on up and frolicked Kilian-style over some rocks, before heading into the cheers of David Chan, Michael Epler and some random folks at the aid station.  A quick fill of the handheld, and I was gone.

"My god, you are FANTASTIC." - the voices in my head
(photo: Dom)

Bruce and I climbed up the last little roller, when what to my wondering eyes should appear?  Two men for one panda.  SCORE!  I knew I'd for shizzle see the Prizzle at some point, but I was super excited to see Dom as well - running calf pain free!  They turned around and headed down the course with me for a bit, which was awesome to take my mind off the long, hard-packed descent.  We sang bluegrass, Dom told off color jokes and all was right with the world for a few glorious moments in time.  In fact, I didn't even think about my knee until they asked, and even concentrating on it, I was honestly pain-free.  Before I knew it, we'd hit the MASH site and I was back to the flatter terrain signifying the end of the loop.  I looked at my watch and was pleased to see that it had only been 2 hours at this point.  My estimation of doing the first loop around 2:30 was definitely on point and I realized it might be entirely plausible to do this thing under 5 hours.  I was starting to feel a little bit of fatigue, but definitely still had legs for the climb and was motivated to push again after admittedly holding back a bit on the descent.  The guys expressed my brain's sentiment:  wow. that would actually be a pretty good time for a course with 7500' or so of ups.

The 12 year old version of myself descending Bulldog
(photo: Dom)

A few miles from the start/finish area, I ran into aforementioned Nano PT and Megan in the dried creek bed, which was also a nice surprise.  Friends = energy and I now had like 2 LowCarb Monster's worth.  They continued on in the opposite direction, Dom and Chris ran ahead and I cruised the last bit of the loop; downing the rest of my gel flask and water.

I had planned to simply switch handhelds at the Start/Finish area, which I'd pre-packed and left with Dom - but as I turned back around from the checkpoint, he was nowhere to be found.  I ran over to my Jeep for the bottle - but it was gone and I momentarily panicked.  I'd have to leave with no gel if I didn't find him immediately.  Luckily, I ran down the parking lot and saw him sprinting from the pavilion where he'd gone to find me some ice.  Crisis averted, I headed back out for the second loop, unexplainably confused of where to go and sure that I wasted at least 9 seconds of time :)

Immediately, I regretted my handling of the situation - I should have waited at the checkpoint tent and downed some more liquids before heading out.  It was officially turning from warm to hot, and I could have taken better advantage of the "wasted" time.  Lesson learned.  At any rate, I was glad to again hit the single track and finally duck down for a much needed pee break, which only further confirmed that I needed to be drinking more.  It is here that thoughts of possibly having grabbed a second bottle first crept into my mind.  To justify my possible wrongdoings, I reasoned that I would start sucking down my CarboPro and then stop and refill with ice at the aid station before the climb, rather than blowing through again.

I did just that and grabbed another cup of water as well, hiking for the first time out of the aid station.  I had a feeling the majority of the steep pitches would be powerhiked this time, and I was right, but not with the same fervor I had imagined.  I was officially starting to feel overworked - not in my legs, but just a total body fatigue which I largely attributed to the rising heat.  I knew I'd be slowing down a bit, but hopefully only by 10 minutes - still putting me in under 5.  Dom had been legitimately impressed with my effort and I had butterflies at the thought of showing him I was even tougher than he imagined.  (I've never really gotten over the assertion I made in kindergarten that boys would like me if I ran really fast.  And )

I focused intently on running as much as possible and keeping hiking breaks to a minimum and only when absolutely necessary.  One guy passed me as I made my way further up the climb, but I kept him solidly in my sight with the other approacher comfortably behind.  As I looked back down the winding fire road, I couldn't see any other dots even remotely close - so these would have to be my checkpoints if I still wanted to "race."  I was sweating buckets and salt was burning my eyes - all leading me to be quite a bit thirstier than my 16 oz handheld was allowing.  To make matters a bit worse, the CarboPro/Nuun cocktail was not actually quenching my thirst - rather it was only making my fantasies of ice cold crystal clear WATER more alluring.  Another lesson learned for the canyons of WSER - one bottle of nutrition, one of pure water - mandatory.  I tried to console myself with this valuable gem of knowledge I had garnered by my mistakes, but that only worked for about five more minutes.  Then, shit got real.

My stomach started wrenching and my energy waned.  I forced down more gel via sips of carpet water (that's what hot Nuun and CarboPro tastes like), and I convinced myself that the harder I worked the sooner I would be to the beautiful oasis of Corral Canyon.  Luckily, before I could go too far down the path of mental destruction, Michael and Megan appeared on the crest of the next hill.  Now, if you honestly asked me in retrospect would I have rather them have been themselves or two pitchers of icewater, I would have shamelessly chosen the latter, but I was the second most happy I could have been to see them.  The boost of cheers and smiles kicked me right up to the top of the main climb, now only having to bust through a few more rollers to get to the object of my desire.  Waaaattteeeeerrrrr.

By the time I hit the spine again, I was relieved, but I was weaving in dehydration.  Taking one bottle was a really bad idea!!  I pulled up to the aid station and knew what I had to do to get through the rest of this thing:  I had to sit down and chug.  All the while, I knew exactly what was about to happen, but I greedily sucked down cup after cup of ice cold water, feeling the glorious nectar bring life back to my ailing soul.  I briefly considered how nice it would be to turn in my bib and catch a ride down with David, but ah, it was only 7 or 8 more miles and I'd likely feel fine soon.  Of course, that was before it got a little worse.

Kicking it old school in my 101s.
(photo: Dom)

Unsurprisingly, the copious amounts of liquid I had consumed started coming right back up as soon as I started running again, keeping me to a hike for most of the final climb.  Not wanting to lose the vital hydration, I swallowed everything back down and just to add insult to injury - threw some gel in there too.  Mmmmm.  It became a game of just how much I could get my stomach to tolerate while feeling my worst - again, an experiment conducted for future reference.  Luckily, I kept it down and after only a few minutes was able to run again.  I'd been sharing the trail with a guy who'd caught up to me at Corral, but his calf cramped and I was left to go it alone.  3rd OA was long gone, so I settled into running as strong as I possibly could without feeling like I might break.  If I ran hard the whole way down, I could still break 5 hours, but a quick check determined that was simply not something I was willing to do on this day.  That kind of effort would necessitate some recovery and very well may destroy my knee for a few days.  It just wasn't worth it, and I was more than content with my work thus far.  And so I coasted on down.


The interesting thing about the day was that I never thought about miles - how far I'd gone or how far there was to go.  It was only the bump, the traverse, the climb, the rollers, one more, descend, cruise it in - then do it all one more time.  I think this is really indicative of my approach to training - how long of a sustained climb can I get?, how many climbs can I string together?, how many times can I repeat it?, how hard can I run it without blowing up?  I think about the terrain, the full adventure, rather than just clicking off the miles and I really believe that this is how 50 and even 100 miles have come to seem not as long.  It's not that this 50k was nothing - I definitely felt a little worked - my point is simply that I don't ever feel overwhelmed by distance anymore.


The other interesting thing was that I fully anticipated my knee becoming really painful at some point along this downhill.  As such, I started off conservatively - taking care to minimize the pounding and intently focusing on form, so as not to illicit a flare up.  To my awe and wonder, I realized that I was in absolutely no pain whatsoever.  So I pushed it a little harder.  Still.  Nothing.  I continued on this way all the way to the bottom of the descent, gradually increasing my pace with no change in sensation in my knee.  As I cruised through the MASH site and the creek bed, I honestly couldn't believe what had just happened.  I was running full speed down a steeply graded, hard-packed fire road in an old pair of flat, no cushion 101s with 26+ miles on my legs, less than five months after knee surgery...  AND I WAS FINE.  No pain.  No tears.  Just awesomeness.


I hit the road and cruised around the parking lot to the jumping joy of Dom and Chris.  I had positive split the loop by like 40 minutes, but that was to be expected with the major slow-down/dehydration in the heat.  Ah well... good enough for 1st place, 4th overall and a 5:23 in the heat on a course with over 7,500' of climb.  Not quite good enough for the course record - I would have had to find 9 seconds somewhere along the course in my pee break, aid station dehydration break, 1st loop bottle confusion or stopping to fix my eyes a mile before the finish when a truck kicked a huge pile of dust up in my face - but you know, I'm just not sure it could have been found :)  That said, I'm actually glad I didn't know what the CR was or my proximity - as I firmly believe CRs are reserved for trying your hardest, and in all honesty I did not.  I held back with reservations about my knee and focused instead on this race as a necessary building block in my training.  I pushed myself and I hurt a bit on the second loop - especially when I ran out of water - but I didn't run on the edge. I raced 100% in control and I felt fucking fantastic when I crossed the finish line.  

Deeply confused Panda.
(photo: Dom)

And when we ran a Baldy loop the next morning.

One of the most beautiful days on Baldy yet...
(photo: Dom)

Best Slumber Party EVER.
(photo: Chandra Farnham)

GOAL ATTAINED:  I can run 31 miles at a decent clip, both up and down, on singletrack and fire road with no pain in my knee.  I win.


Big thanks to Pacific Coast Trail Runs for another great day with great friends!

Do you see a problem?  I DON'T SEE A F***ING PROBLEM!!!
(photo: Dom)

Not Everybody's Working for the Weekend

I work down there.  I run up here. I dream of over yonder.

For as long as I've been distance training, I've basically lived for the weekend.  I pretty much suffered through my weekdays, trying to shove as many workouts I could into my little free time, and then hit the weekends hard.  Sometimes I'd run TWICE as many miles and climb THREE TIMES as much vert in two days as I had in the previous five.  I'd write it in my log, stare at it and say, this makes no sense.  And then the next week, I'd do the same thing.  Buy why?

Perspective.

 Sunrise - a great opportunity to nerd out over forefoot 
strike patterns.

Tired and sore from  a long weekend in the mountains; I'd stare down the week ahead with fearful eyes.  Working a full-time job, freelance work, managing a long- distance traffic relationship, paperwork, errands, cooking, cleaning and other such life stuff really takes up a lot of time.  So even if I spend the remainder of my waking minutes running, I'm going to be tired.  I guess my mileage will just be low during the week and all my runs will kind of suck.

Shift.

Last Wednesday morning, as I headed out for my 5:30am soft sand run, something clicked.  I realized I had already run 30 miles this week in just two days and I was none the worse for wear.  Furthermore, I did this on two 10+hour workdays, cross-trained AND put in quality workouts that I was proud of.  I felt energized.  I felt powerful.  I felt kind of stupid.

All this time, I'd been wanting running to be more important and more of a priority during my week; but all I seemed to come up with was excuses as to why it couldn't be.  Yet somehow now it was.  As I compared my training log to last year's notes, I realized I'm actually putting in a lot more hours, time and vertical feet during my weekdays - even though I'm technically "busier" in all other areas of life.  It's not at all hard to put down 20 miles and at least 2-3k of vert on a weekday, especially when it's broken up into two workouts.  But how?

See.

My job is not a hindrance to my running.  It is a training tool.

Getting out for some hill repeats after sitting, staring at a screen for 4-5 hours - letting my body stiffen up from the morning's workout isn't easy.  Hell, it's not at all unlike trying to throw down 9 minute pace up a hill at mile 80.  This, my friends, is what you call simulation.

Probably the best thing about my job as a copywriter at a busy ad agency is the fact that it completely fries my brain every day.  I'm talking total mental exhaustion.  It takes some serious panache to get my shit together for a hard, calculated effort, just like it does when the sun is going down and I'm trying to stay in the race.  I remember this when I'd rather go take a nap in my car than lace up and get my ass on the hill at lunch. This brings me to my next truth…

Who even files anymore?  This is 2012, people.

Even if it's dark before work and dark after, you can still run in sunlight.

The next best thing about my job is that there is a 500 foot hill/playground behind my office.  It has a winding trail that goes to the top; it has a mean set of stairs; it has steep, rocky drainage ditches. In short, it is awesome for hill repeats when you're stuck in the middle of the city.  I used to hit it up after work sometimes and created some mean little workouts.  Then it hit me?  Why not run it at lunch - when it's sunny and hot and you can get an extra K in on your day?  WHY THE HELL NOT?

There really was no good reason, so accordingly, I've added a few lunchtime trips to the hill every week and always look forward to them.  The best part is hitting the top and looking out to my weekend playground - the snowcapped San Gabriels off in the distance - and spending the rest of my repeats infinitely inspired.  This work I'm doing during the week is only aiding my enjoyment of the work I do on the weekend.  Because enjoyment to me is running fast, strong and slightly out of control.

The steps up "Work Hill" - Culver City, CA

There is absolutely no time at which it is unreasonable to run.

While nursing my knee back to health, I didn't run every day.  I definitely didn't run twice a day.  I began taking my hot ballet/yoga classes three mornings a week for cross-training.  The only problem was, even once I was back to hitting the miles, I didn't want to give up those classes.  I've seen and felt dramatic results in my strength as a direct result of these workouts, so obviously I should keep it up.  But they are at 6:30 am, so that takes up THREE mornings to run.  That was, until I realized I could run beforehand.  Furthermore, I'd been wanting to incorporate more soft sand runs, but heading to the beach after work was a bitch with traffic and parking.  At 5 in the morning, none of these things are a problem.  It's funny that it never occurred to me to run before class, just because I thought it was too early. Is it too early to be running at 2 am when I'm in a 100 mile race?  Well, maybe… but you see my point.

Tuesday Morning Big Loop - Thank you Michael for joining me!
photo:  Michael Chamoun

Sitting in traffic isn't a waste of time.  It's a fucking break.

I ask for one at least 5 times a day; only one of which I'm procuring a piece of your Kit-Kat Bar.  Sitting on my butt, letting my mind wander or listening to music, comedy, podcasts, etc. could be seen as a waste of time, but if I'm multi-tasking by getting said butt from Point A to Point B, it suddenly becomes entirely legitimate.  I wouldn't give myself this break otherwise, so doing it a couple times a week to visit Dom suddenly becomes an added benefit to my life.  Boom.  That just happened.

"Marshall Mondays" at Westridge - a new staple & much
appreciated group run.  Thank you Marshall!
photo:  Chan Chan

Spending all my free time running isn't work.  It's a privilege.

Relatively speaking, I don't have  whole lot of responsibilities.  I've gotta work, I've gotta eat and I've gotta pay my taxes.  That's about it.  My boyfriend gets excited if I say I'm going to be late because I need to run.  My work is cool with me coming in dirty and sweaty. My life is awesome.

That said, someday I do want a family; and I don't want to just pop the little suckers out.  I want to raise them; I want to go to their soccer games; I want to make them delicious meals; I want to KNOW them - all the things my parents did for me.  I will run, but I won't have the freedom to do it like I do now.  The older I get, the more and more real this becomes.  So instead of moping out the door when I'm tired and sore and it's cold and dark - I focus on how lucky I am to have the freedom to run after work instead of a whole host of activities which I will someday enjoy.

Become.

All it takes is a little shift in perspective to be the runner you want to be.  Be creative with your training.  Check out all of the things in your life that are "getting in" the way, and consider that they might actually be paving it.

I did.  And now I love my weeks just as almost as much as my weekend adventures.

Ahhh.... weekend....
photo:  Dominic Grossman, Holy Jim Canyon

January Things

Perhaps Baldy will be my new Chantry which was my new Temescal.
I see double summits in the near future...
(photo: Kevin Chan)

After 7 weeks of recuperation/going certifiably insane, my main objective for January was getting back into shape.  More specifically, my expressly stated goals (hastily written one night on a piece of scrap paper with a pen running out of ink) were as follows:

Run or hike at least around an hour per week day

Run or hike min of 3 hours per weekend day

Cross train 3-4 hours/week

Soft Sand run at least 1-2 times/week

Physical therapy 1x/week

Working up to 50-60 miles per week

Goal of completing 20 trail miles without stopping

Work up to twice a day runs

Based on how my knee was feeling, this felt reasonable and as such - I set out on my journey. While things have not gone perfectly and there still is a significant amount of pain involved, I am happy to say that I've far surpassed these goals and will accordingly need to adjust for the months ahead.  I just crunched the numbers and for a start to the year on a post-op knee, I'm deeply satisfied.  Here are the results:

Let's climb, bitches!

TOTAL MILES:  312.5

TOTAL VERT:  70,300 ft

TOTAL HOURS:  74:32

TOTAL CROSS:  11:10

AVG MILES/WK:  78

AVG VERT/WK:  17,500

I didn't think I'd be hitting 70 or 80 until March, so this is a very good sign.  Probably the most notable thing here though, is after checking last year's log - I realized I'm only 14 miles short of 2011 January's totals.  Considering this year, I've taken 2 days completely off and last year I took 0 - that means, I'm basically in the same place.  Holy crap!  I was positive... positive that I was way off from last year all things considered, but apparently that is not the case.  And not only is it not the case, it's made completely irrelevant by this little fact:  though my mileage is a bit less, my total climbing is over 10,000 feet more.  AND I've spent more hours running this year than last.  Boomshakeday. 

As such, I'll look to get myself comfortable running around 80 miles/wk consistently during February, likely with one or two topping 90.  Getting back to 100 mile weeks should happen way earlier than expected!  Working out 2-3 times a day has already become the norm, so getting it all in isn't necessarily a concern - what I'm really working on is extending at least 3 of my weekday runs to over 10 miles at a time.  It's really not hard to do and there's really no excuse.  I've been rocking them as of late, and my only real hang-up is that I've been getting scared on the trails in the dark because everyone keeps posting shit about mountain lions on Facebook.  My solution for this is just not to check Facebook as often :)  Last year, I noticed there was often a great disparity between my weekday miles and my weekend miles and I'm already on working on making those at the very least more even - at the best, with my weekday totals on top.  Same thing with the climbing.  Goal is at least 2-3k of vert each weekeday, and there really is no excuse given that there is a 500 ft hill behind my work perfect for a quick thousand for lunch.

My physical therapy has ended for now, and I'm pretty much off the hook until I check back in with the orthopedic dude mid-Feb.  This is awesome, because it frees up one more morning for extra running.  I'll continue to go to my Hot Ballet/Yoga classes 3x a week, with a barefoot session beforehand under the morning moon and keep up the lunchtime core work as well.  It's making a huge difference, but more on that later...  Finally, the most exciting thing in all this is that I finally feel confident in firming up some pre-Miwok racing plans.  March will likely be a busy month with PCTR's Santa Monica Mountains 50k on the 3rd and possibly Old Goats 50 mi on the 24th if I make it off the wait list.  I'll also be doing the LA Marathon on the 18th (my 29th birthday!) which will undoubtedly be the best of the bunch - as I'll be running with my dad, enroute to completing his first.  

Mt. Wilson Summit on a particularly
ravishing day.  (photo: Dom)

Well, that's about it for the first month of the year.  It was an awesome one, with trips to icy San Gorgonio and a long weekend in Auburn training on the States course as standouts.  Baldy summits have become a staple with the opposite of wet winter we're having, so I'm looking to lower my splits up Bear Canyon and the Ski Hut Trail - you know, just for fun/my own sick pleasure.  I've been extending my staple loops/runs in the Front Range as well and doing some exploring/more climbing - so that has been keeping me interested and entertained.  No motivation problems whatsoever heading in to February - I'm truly enjoying getting back into the hard training and continuing to avoid plants at all costs.

And finally, the important stuff:

BEER OF JANUARY:  Sierra Nevada Tumbler - Autumn Brown Ale

I've been hitting the end of the winter seasonals and I've been hitting them hard; as they'll soon be gone.  This month, I tried quite a few and was completely unsurprised to end with two from SN Brew Co. up top - the aforementioned, and coming in a close second - their Ruthless Rye IPA.  I had the Tumbler on draft and it was so perfectly smooth and creamy that I chose to have a second for my dinner.  SO good.

JAM:  No way will any other band remind me more of January road trips than Toro y Moi.  This one is pure excellence:

Still Sound - Toro y Moi

My favorite adventure partner.

Every day can be a sunny day if you just climb high enough.
(photo: Dom)

Starting the Year off Either Incredibly Right or Terribly Wrong

Special thanks go out to MLK for having a dream and giving me
a Monday off work to pursue mine.

I sit here writing as I impose a day fully off from running.  My poor knee has been swollen for days.  This morning was supposed to be my final PT session, yet now I have additional appointments scheduled for ultrasounding, deep tissue digging and other such torturous activities.* And I did it all to myself.
*NOTE:  I started this blog last Wednesday; after one day off, I'm back to pounding it.


I started the year with an expressly stated goal of working my way up to handling 60 miles per week with 10,000 feet of climbing (and 10k down) in January.  I thought it would be great to be able to run a full 20 miles by the end of the month.  Only then, I ran 26 on the 2nd and have been averaging 75 miles and 17,000 feet for the first two weeks.  I'm pretty sure that's awesome, but I'm also pretty sure that's why my knee is swelling again.  Grrrrr.


You may say, "Well Katie, that is downright silly," and I wouldn't necessarily disagree with you.  But what I will offer is that I simply couldn't help it.  My body feels best when I'm running lots of miles and my world seems altogether right.  Plus I have major FOMO.  So when friends ask me to run the last 26 of the AC course, I say absolutely.  When I realize it may be my last chance to frolick in the San Gorgonio Wilderness before winter sets in, I convince Unicorn to drive to San Bernadino with me, citing that it will be excellent Hardrock training.  And by golly, when I see a 3 day weekend with non-existent snow levels in Tahoe, I get my ass on the States course to train.  That would be the real point of this post, so let's move on to that, shall we?


Last Friday, Dom and I headed up to Auburn after work to enjoy it the way Mr. King Jr. would have liked.  Chasing a dream.  Only chasing said dream first involved a 7 hour drive in a loud, bumpy Jeep getting us to the inn at roughly 3:30 in the morning.  Hey folks, running 100 miles ain't exactly glamorous - and neither is the lifestyle.  It's all part of the training. :)  After sleeping for maybe 2 hours, maybe, we got back in the panda-mobile and headed into Foresthill to meet our guru for the day, the lovely Mrs. Suzanna Bon.  The plan was to run all day, heading backwards on the course as far as we felt like and then turn around - keeping an easy pace and focusing on purely enjoying the beautiful day.  We'd be rocking the canyons section of the course, which is largely considered the hardest part, and doing it twice.  That seemed like a perfect introduction to me.

Michigan Bluff in January - La Niña = La Awésome. 

Next thing I knew, we were at Michigan Bluff and I realized it was going to be one of those days where the miles just melt away and you become thoroughly convinced that yours is truly the best life ever.  This must be what heroin is like.  At any rate, we ran into some friends before heading down to El Dorado Creek and as I've grown accustomed to, I received many a congrats for getting into THE race.  I'm now up to at least three times as many "likes" for getting into a lottery than finishing any race in my life.  Apparently, Western States is a big deal.  

Zombies.

Having Suzanna along was awesome, not just because she is an altogether super person - but also because she had great stories and knowledge of the course.  Along the way, she pointed out the legendary Ann Trason's house, the Deadwood Cemetery (where I paid my respects, less have bad juju on race day), old Gold mining equipment and all sorts of other cool shit.  Accordingly, I've been spending an inordinate amount of time on Google since I've been back, as I love to know the history of the places I'm running.  Then every race is like time traveling, which of course, is awesome.


Our journey took us all the way back to Last Chance, and as such, we realized we needed to get a move on to get back to Foresthill before dark.  All the way, I was marveling at the fact I was running in the Tahoe National Forest in January in a t-shirt.  The day was seriously magical. And I was excited to go back through these dreaded canyons and see what was truly up.  

Chasing Suzanna down the canyons is the
opposite of easy.

Well, what was up was that it was seriously not that bad.  I know... I know.... race day in 100+ degree weather is an entirely different story, but my point is that I expected these things to be way steeper and longer, given the tales of WSER lore I have been told.  Plus, my reference point for "godforsaken canyon" is of the Cooper variety on the AC course - which is truly a nightmare every time I visit.  Long, hot, windy, super steep in places and a total mindfuck.  So naturally, I expected three Coopers when I heard about "the canyons." 


Down to Swinging Bridge we went, and there before me was the grandaddy of them all:  Devil's Thumb.  Based on what I've heard, here's what I expected from this section:


After a blistering, quad-busting decent, I'd stare down the steepest, most awful climb imaginable.  It would be something like climbing the Luna Trail*, but for like 5 miles at least.  It would start at least at 7,000 feet and climb to over 10 - but it would feel like climbing 11 to 14, because fuck, this is Western States.  It would be exceptionally rocky and overgrown, not to mention completely exposed for the duration of the climb.  I would have to use my hands at points.  I would have to hike every step.  I would have to physically stop and catch my breath at points.  There would probably even be bear traps to avoid and eagles would swoop down and try to peck out my eyes.  If I even made it to the top, it would be a goddamn miracle.

Saying hi to the Thumb for Kev, after successfully
locating 3 shades of his face he left there last year.

*A local trail/drainage ditch that takes you straight out of a canyon at basically 1 million ft/mile. Also rocky, crumbly, overgrown and there is suggested use of a placed rope at one point.




Needless to say, the Devil's Thumb I had imagined was not quite the Devil's Thumb of reality. (Although I do realize that during the race I may become quite convinced that my first perception was actually spot on.)  The reality was that Devil's Thumb starts at around 2,700 and climbs about 1,350 in like 2 miles.  I did it in about 45 minutes, hiking most, running a little and stopping twice to take pictures and once to pee.  It was steep and it will be a bitch with 45 miles on my legs and the sun blazing down on me, but it is possible.  Furthermore, if I continue with my training on the AC course with the likes of Upper Winter Creek, Baden Powell and Acorn and power slogs up the steep slopes of Mt. Baldy - I should be pretty much good to go on the canyons.  Thank you Angeles National Forest.


What the day made me realize, however, is that much of the terrain on the States course is very runnable and the climbs aren't long.  Accordingly, I really need to work on sustained running more than hiking and some major turnover.  Perhaps I will no longer look at the whimpy Santa Monicas outside of my window as a sorry excuse for weekday training when I can't get over to the big girl mountains in Pasadena and beyond.  The runnable, 30-45 min climbs are perfect to work on efficiently switching from up to down mode and this will be an integral part of my training.


The other thing it made me realize is that my knee has seriously got to get its act together if I want to run this thing well. It's absolutely imperative to run the downhills in control, but strong - and right now I'm kind of doing this crumbly, timid dance thing that isn't working for anybody.  Halfway down the El Dorado decent, my knee totally and royally crapped out on me and every step, fast or slow, became wildly painful.  It just ain't up to speed yet, and while that is ok for January, I'm really going to have some work to do on improving my downhill ability once the weaksauce joint is able to handle it.  


All in all though, I got over 35 miles and somewhere between 10 and 11,000 feet on the day - so I was pretty happy with the effort.  I haven't ran that far since AC last July and it felt good. Really good. All day adventures are my lifeblood and I've been downright cantankerous without them.  My fear, however, was that I had possibly ruined the rest of the weekend by pushing the distance on the first day.  Luckily, a big ass sammich from Worton's, some Udo's Oil, Ice and sleep cured my ailments and I woke up on Sunday hungry for more of the course.


Accordingly, we hopped in the Jeep and set out for Robinson Flat to see what we could see. The local yokels at Worton's, as well as everyone else on FB who was apparently "in the know," told us there would be no snow at all until Red Star.  Sounds bueno.  Imagine our surprise when 3 miles from the campground we encountered such nasty ice on the road, that even my Jeep in 4WD seemed like a bad idea.  Not to be rerouted, we simply parked and ran up the road to Robinson where we found a land of ice and snow and circled around a few times, consulted a compass and finally found our trail.  Setting off for Duncan Canyon, I was definitely tired, but totally ready for whatever the day held.  I knew it would likely be another 5-6 hour day and that seemed pretty great to me.  The decent into the canyon was absolutely gorgeous; the trail enveloped in huge, dense green forest that swallowed me whole.  And at the first point we popped out of the trees, my breath was completely taken away by the sweeping expanse of pristine wilderness. No photo could ever do justice to the beauty of the Tahoe National Forest.  And parking off the road at an aid station ain't gonna do it either.  You've got to be in it.  You've got to feel it.

Star Fire remnants in Duncan Canyon

Then, just as soon as I lost myself in the lush forest, I was suddenly enclosed in complete destruction.  Charred, broken trees stood in stark contrast to the dense greenery of the surrounding hillsides as I wound down to the creek.  I've since read that the Star Fire of 2001 had completely destroyed 16,171 acres of the TNF causing a reroute of the Duncan Canyon section of the course for the next 5 years.  Though clearly damaged, much greenery and new, small trees sprouted up along the trail.  It was hauntingly beautiful and clearly told the story of the natural cycle of things - something we must all accept.  It also gave me great hope for our own Angeles Forest, where the Station Fire of 2009 turned the majority of the middle 30 miles of the AC100 course into a creepy, barren land of the lost.  It's cool to think that in 5-10 years, I could feasibly see some green (and hopefully less purple) heading from Chilao to Shortcut.

Like Rockefeller Center, y'all.

Eventually, I got down to the bottom of Duncan Canyon, where to my surprise, I found an ice skating rink.  Well… maybe.  I saw where the ice had broken to a rushing force below and admittedly, stood there for a few moments wondering what to do.  It was way colder than the previous day and the thought of crashing through and spending the rest of the run soaked was not something I wanted to deal with.  Nevertheless, I couldn't help but wander out onto the frozen section and pull some Oksana Baiuls before using my better judgement and scampering over to some rocks for safer crossing.  Once on the other side, I enjoyed the rest of my run up to Duncan, but was greatly slowed by all of the downed trees and layers of debris covering the trail.  Western States is known for its well manicured trails (just ask Hal Winton), but I wondered if they usually have time to make it out to these higher sections of the course.  Cleared, this section would be super fast as the climb really isn't all that significant (though it's listed as the other major "canyon.") In present state, it would definitely slow me down unless I quickly developed some serious log leaping, stick cracking and rock hopping skills.  But hell, a few storms between now and then could change the course anyway - so we'll see what fate brings us.*

*Which I'm not so secretly hoping is the original course + river crossing at mile 80 sans boats.

Standing at the future home of the Duncan Canyon aid station, I again marveled at how my perceptions have changed with my perspectives over the years.  In 2009, I had stood in this very place waiting for my friend Jimmy to come in.  I'd just entered into the world of ultrarunning and the thought of actually running 100 miles myself still seemed superhuman and something I likely would be unable to tackle for a few years, at least.  Maybe someday far, far in the future, I'd run Western States too - but I couldn't fathom it.  As I watched the runners leave the aid station, I marveled at how they navigated the steep rocky decent and wondered how in the hell they could do that all the way down into the canyon.  This course seemed ridiculous and the toughest thing I could ever imagine.

Taking a break with the dude @ DC

Of course, on present day in 2012, I realized that the insanely steep downward pitch only lasted about 100 feet and then dumped you out onto a gradual, winding path.  I guess that just goes to show you that once you take the time to truly understand a thing, immersing yourself in it totally, you'll realize that the intimidation was just born of fear of the unknown.  When you get friendly with a challenge, shit seems a great deal more reasonable.  This 100 yard section out of the Duncan Aid Station was a metaphor for what my life with regards to mountain running has become.  I've trained on the steepest, gnarliest stuff I can find.  I've run as high as I can get.  I've layered miles upon miles every weekend.  And I've run through a great deal of pain on multiple occasions.  It's all possible.  And now it's all relative.  Western States isn't going to be a race of survival for me.

Thank-you.

It was getting late as I headed back on the course to Robinson, and the cold of winter was finally setting in.  It had to be at least 30-40 degrees colder than the previous day, but my wardrobe hadn't gotten the memo.  Accordingly, I pushed as hard as I could with my swollen knee and admittedly wrecked legs from the day before - finally hitting the campground as the sun was beginning to set.  Again, I wandered around trying to find how to get out and where the course went next - but to this day, I have no idea.  I guess I'll find out either in May or on race day - whatever Mother Nature decides. Running the last three miles on the road was as cold as I've been in a long time, but it was physically impossible to be miserable with the golden light reflecting off the road and the pink and purple mountains going to rest.  It filled me with faith and excitement for what was to come in my training leading up to June 23rd.  It wasn't going to be easy, but at the end of the day, running into the sunset on a wholly and completely spent body is what I enjoy most.  Onward.

Another amazing day now in the books, Dom and I headed back down to Auburn for some hot showers and delicious food.  I was immediately glad we had not decided to camp, as the thought of spending the rest of the evening trapped in a sleeping bag for warmth seemed awful.  I needed to stretch, ice and somehow pull one more day of hard training out of my tired body before heading home.  Also, I needed a freaking beer.  

The scene at Dusty Corners, circa 2k9

Fortunately, I got all of the above and rose Monday morning with the plan of driving to either Dusty Corners or Last Chance to at least connect that section and likely explore backwards towards Miller's Defeat.  That was a longer drive than I remembered, made even longer by ice on the road, but we eventually made it to Dusty - which was a great deal less like its moniker than when visited in June.  Also, there were no cows - which was disappointing.  

Tracking our 110 prints from 2 days prior.
That snow wasn't there back then.

Now, on this section from Dusty to LC, I would like to note that my trail instincts were spot on with where to turn onto the singletrack - despite the old WS Trail markers remaining on the road and me never reading anything about a singletrack.  It was like the race was already in my blood or something.  Unfortunately, we did not take that turn and ran all the way back to Last Chance only to discover we'd only run about 4 miles rather than 5 and we clearly must have done something wrong.  The good news was that we got some really nice, quicker running in - which felt good compared to the technical dance we'd done the day before.  Also, we'd definitely have time to head back toward's Miller's Defeat since these first 8 miles had gone by so quickly.  Getting back to the Aid Station site, we ran across some older gentlemen out doing trail work already and seemingly having a grand old time in the forest.  They confirmed that they'd actually just cleared the singletrack that we were supposed to have run on - which sure enough, was the turn I'd originally sensed.  Oh well, something new and fun for me to experience in May.  After parting ways, we headed up the steep grade pouring into DC for a little over a mile, just to check it out and see how long and hard that decent would be coming in.  We laughed and posed for a few photos depicting the great "Where's Jimmy?" debacle of 2009, where we were quite certain that every single runner coming down to the aid station was the aforementioned man.  It actually got quite ridiculous.  At one point, Dom was waiting outside of the porta-potty for Jimmy to come out and talking to him.  Only it wasn't Jimmy.  Also, we royally fucked up there because we didn't bring him cold Coke and they only had Pepsi.  Ahhhh…. memories….

"Hey!  Is that Jimmy?"

Back to the present - my stomach suddenly decided to wreck itself and it became apparent that we'd soon need to call it a day.  This also reminded me of the Jimmy days, as I had no idea how he was stomaching double strength Perpetuum milkshakes in the 110+ degree heat.  To this day, it is one of the only things in the world that truly baffles Dom.  I learned at AC that I cannot handle any solids whatsoever in the heat, and as such I've wondered myself if I should begin experimenting with something such as CarboPro to supplement the gels.  57 GUs were fun and all, but I'm thinking I need another solution for getting more calories in, lest it go south on me.  Right now, I've got kind of a one track, fool-proof plan; but this is ultrarunning for chrissakes.  At some point - likely the worst possible time ever - my unbreakable plan will break.  It's not a matter of if; it's a matter of when.

At any rate, we finished up the run and headed back into town to refuel and try to fix my stomach with salad.  That kind of worked, but then I bombed it again with Monster, Candy and an Americano in my attempts to stay awake at the wheel on the way back to LA.  That night, I lie in bed with twitchy, overworked legs and a brain buzzing with caffeine; but let me tell you what, I was satisfied.  The Western States trail is some seriously beautiful shit, and I am so pumped to take on Gordy's dream in 2012.




AFTERWORD:  I feel like I have to start including these, since it takes me a freaking week and a half to write a post.
I'm happy to say that I took a little step back in the week after the WS weekend and only ran around 60 miles with 15k of vert, which seemed to do me good.  This week, I'm back at it climbing 2-3k per day and will hit 80-90 miles.  Also, I was released from PT on Wednesday, which is awesome because that is one more morning hour I can spend training.  Therapist chick said the muscle around my left knee is finally back to the size of the right before it wussed out from surgery and atrophied, so that is bueno.  And most importantly, I'm finally starting to feel strong and powerful again.  Getting back in shape is hard, but it's working...


Finally, I'm going to attempt to post a January re-cap blog here of totals and exciting news, but don't hold your breath.