BURNED

Yesterday I attempted to run around the lake on whose shore the little town Chascomus of 40,000 people, 120 km outside of Buenos Aires, which we have inhabited for the last 4 days, is located.  When we first got into the town and I thought about running the lake, it looked maybe 10 miles around, and perhaps doing 2 laps would make for a nice long run.  Upon studying a conveniently posted map of the town, turned out the road around the lake is around 28-29km, probably just about 18 miles. 

Not to be deterred, I thought, with Galen’s encouragement, that it would be badass to still do 2 laps for a whopping 36 miler of a run.  The scenery is pretty and I can always decide to quit after lap 1 if I’m not feeling up for it.  So yesterday morning I lazily rolled out of bed around 9:30, took another lazy half an hour to get ready and wrote a note for Galen to buy more water in case I decide to do lap 2 and need to refuel.  I looked for the sunscreen and couldn’t find it.  I didn’t want to wake Galen up and figured if I made it in 3 hours or less as I hoped and stay in shade when I can, it should be OK.

One thing that needs to be mentioned is that I attempted to do a fast one hour run a couple of days earlier.  The temperature was around 95, though I figured that for a run this short, I should be fine just pre-hydrating and not bringing water.  That didn’t work so well at all.  I started dying after about the first 20-25 minutes, I presumed from being hot and not having water, and hobbled on my way back.

So I figured that if I bring water with me this time, all my problems will be solved.

Well, even at 10 a.m., it was already scorching.  I set a pace that felt good – probably something in the 9:30 range – drank water generously, and made zigzags for the tiniest islands of shade.  This didn’t prevent me from continuing to get hot.  So I started taking cool down breaks under trees, and sprayed a small bit of water over my head (which felt like it was sucking in all of the sun’s heat from the air).  Finally, when my head was feeling hot enough to fry eggs over it, I decided it was time for drastic measures.

I made my way down to the lake and dunked my head in.  Not literally – unfortunately.  That would have been difficult to do without getting totally wet including my shoes.  Instead I scooped up the murky water and threw it all over my head, neck, and back. 

That felt good!  Yeah, I can do this!

Next I found myself taking a cooling break under a shaded entrance to a campground, right at about 16 km, or halfway point.  I sucked water greedily from my CamelBak, reveling in the shade.  Without warning, the sound coming from my CamelBak changed from a soft steady sucking sound to a sputtering, like a faulty engine, loud noise. 

AWW SHIT.

Out of water right at the halfway point, a little over an hour through.  Hmm… what are my options?  I clearly can’t keep running.  That generates too much heat and will dehydrate me too quick. I can always stick my thumb out and get a ride – this is a well-traveled road, there are lots of campgrounds and recreational areas.  But that would be lame.  The only other option, seemed like, was to walk most of the way back.  Walking doesn’t use much water as it’s a fairly low energy activity.  And I can go and dunk myself in the lake to keep cool. 

And that’s what I did, with a little bit of light jogging in between – as long as I felt like I wasn’t getting too hot.  And making my way down to the lake to dump water on myself.  Sometimes going under bridges, like a hobo, because that was the only spot accessible.  That’s because some of the lake’s shores are swamps, so under a bridge would be the only place with access to an even more murky water.

It was actually a pretty way to experience the lake.  Walking through and at that point not trying to set the world record, I had time to observer a great variety of birds, and a group of 97 horses (yes, I counted) grazing at a nearby range.

There was only one little problem with this solution.  I was walking under the noon sun with virtually zero shade and no sunscreen.  In fact, the sun was so vertically over me that I couldn’t even find my own shadow.  I pulled down my shorts to look like an LA gangbanger, in hopes of covering up some of the legs.  I attempted to pull my shirt up over my neck and make my hair as puffy as possible.  To no avail.

I look like a lobster.  A delicious, cooked lobster.

This may be the most burned I’ve ever been in my life!  Normally I don’t start feeling the burn until a day or so later, but I was feeling it a few hours later.  My calves look and hurt the worst, though there is a definitive burn line all around my ankle.  Arms are pretty bad, even the hands.  Face is also bright red, as is the back of the neck.  And taking a shower today, washing my head, I painfully verified that even the top of my head is burned.  Man, all that hair up there for nothing!!!

And I am now the Zombie-SwampBeast, according to Galen, thanks to, well, being in swamps, and, after the fact, putting so much sun-screen all over me, that I looked white, like a Zombie.  Talk about "closing the barn door after the cows got out."

I draw several conclusions from this experience.

1. 1)      Run in cooler parts of the day.  I’m typically in the mode of running when it’s comfortable/convenient for me, but there are times when runs need to be planned around the sun’s schedule.
2. 2)      Look harder for sunscreen, even if that means waking up your roommate!
3. 3)      Get a white/reflexive brimmed hat.  I already came to that conclusion after the Cactus-to-Clouds hike with Sarah, but haven’t followed through.  It seems that just like with cold where most of the heat escapes through the head, when it’s hot, most of the heat accumulates in the head.  So perhaps reflecting it would help, not to mention the shade.
4. 4)      Bring more water.  It appears that in the hottest weather I need about a liter for every 5 miles, or 2L for 1.5 hours.  So I need to see if CamelBak makes packs that can pack a gallon (and still not be too bulky).

Looks like I need to up the pace

from email to Sarah:

oh guess what, i just ran 15 miles at just slightly slower than marathon pace - and that's on a trail, and with occasional distractions (cars in the park, finding my way).  oh and nothing hurts at all - just feel a little stiff and that's all.  how cool is that!?!?  ok, my feet are a bit bruised, the fronts of my feet, but to be fair, they were already sore from walking around a ton yesterday in my loafers.  so the fact that i'm in this shape 3 months before the marathon probably means that my target pace is too slow.  because i'm thinking if i can run this fast on a trail, on a bad day (i drank a little bit last night, went to bed at 4, got up at 10, and spent all day prior to the run running around the city which was tiring... that's all before the run), and that's without full effort and adrenaline of the race, i can probably squeeze out a marathon at the 9:10 pace with just a little bit more endurance training. 

the other thing that was really cool was that when i started out the run, i really felt like shit (see above).  the first lap was REAL slow - probably slower than 10 minute pace.  and then, like clockwork, about 45 or so minutes into my run, i warmed up, my endorphins kicked in, and everything was awesome!  i felt light and like i could run forever!  it really does take me about 45-60 minutes to warm up.  i think that's why on our run in the valley on Thanksgiving it took me so long to get going - seems like your endorphins kick in sooner.  in any case, i'm figuring on race dace the adrenaline will hopefully substitute for the warm-up and i'll be able to get a good pace from the start.

the other thing i noticed, again, is the importance of food and occasional walking breaks.  at the end of lap 3 i was still feeling pretty good, but felt that it was getting more difficult to keep the pace.  so i walked for 3 minutes while devouring a mint/chocolate clif bar.  and man, after that, i just booked it.  i think i was going at around 8:45 pace, which was about 0:20 faster than my previous pace - not bad for the last 4 miles.

so yeah, i think i should set my sights higher, since i have 3 more months of training (assuming i will be able to keep running regularly).  8:30 pace would be a good challenge.

i guess i'm a really good self-motivator.  most of my long/ridiculous runs have been done on my own.  i've definitely gotten better at team running, though i'm also perfectly happy as a lone wolf.

I am a trail runner

first post about running overseas!

in my 8 days here i managed to run 5 times.  and i'm going to run today, so that'd be 6 out of 9.  not bad at all.  all the runs have been in the 6-10 mile range and not particularly fast.  so if i'm going to beat sarah palin, i gotta start pushing myself and pick up the pace.  also i gotta do a long run, probably on sunday.

Palermo, where i stayed in BsAs, has a whole lot of parks, and they're all next to each other.  so one can run from park to park for miles.  though the parks are not particularly inspiring.  the grass is bleak and somewhat faded, there is little variety of plants - just bleak grass and bleak trees.  and lots of concrete roads and a few concrete bike paths going through.  and completely flat.  so i was glad to have a park to run in, but as parks go, it wasn't particularly exciting.  i guess it had one good part which was a big pond with hundreds of fat white geese as well as some exercise machines - i got to do dips for the first time in a while!  i <3 dips.

running barefoot along the beach in Rio was loads of fun.  i love running on packed wet sand.  right between where it gets too dry and starts giving and it gets to wet and starts giving.  i ran up and down along the beach for about an hour, cooled by gentle rain, wet by the occasional outlier wave, and with an idiot grin on my face.  life is hard, i thought to myself with a smile, as i pictured my co-workers running round and round the rose bowl.

i finished the run off with two cocos - they serve green coconuts there which are not quite ripe (that's when they brown).  so you get clear water instead of milk.  and apparently it's the best workout recovery drink one could have.  and i also had two cheeseburgers.  i don't know what they put in brazillian beef, or maybe i was just too hungry, but those cheap cheeseburgers on the beach were GOOD!

the best run of all though was the run two days ago here in Sao Paulo.  i found a huge park, which is their Central park.  it's not nearly as big as central park, but big.  it's close to 1 square mile or so.  and unlike argentina, it's lush green with a huge variety of plants and birds - black swans, tall ducks, and a bunch of others i didn't know.  also lots of art and cool-looking buildings.

the thing that was most exciting is that i found the local cross country trail - it was clearly marked with distance markers every 100 meters, and it was a trail, going all around the park. the whole thing was a 6K which is a standard cross country distance.  now i can time myself and know exactly how much i'm running.  it made me really happy.  i felt a sense of camaraderie with those high school or college kids running around it (not when i was, but at some points in time).  and it just made me happy to run on a trail.  no matter how hard i tried to explore the park i always found myself back on the trail near the perimeter.

i love the feel of earth under my feet.  i love all the little roots and bumps.  i love the variety of textures.  i love the soft cushioning (as compared to the hard asphalt or concrete).  i love running along trees and dodging branches.  i love all the curves and turns.  i love feeling like i'm going somewhere which is a feeling often elusive when running on roads through a monotone city with cars weezing by.  and i also love the feeling of being among grass and trees and going nowhere at all.

so yes, i'm officially a trail runner.  i'm sure i'll do my share of road races, but they'd probably be far in between the trail runs.

The First Marathon

I wanted to write an detailed play-by-play of my first marathon-distance run, but never got around to it.  So I'm going to record some thoughts and observations before it fades into oblivion.

I've been wanting to do this run for a while - running from my folks' house in Reseda to work in Pasadena.  It just sounded so cool and ridiculous to run from the Valley to Pasadena!!!

The run was initially 26.4 mi - pretty much exactly a Marathon - but I extended it to 27.5 mi by running on well-lit Ventura instead of the sketchy Vanowen.

I started running at 5:10 thinking it'd take 4.5 hours and I could be at work around 9:30.  The first 7-8 miles were cake and I was making pretty good time.  By my preliminary calculations, I may have been running below 9 minute pace (I need to run at 9:10 pace to beat Palin).  It was dark, there were few cars and even fewer people around.  It was kind of cool running on a deserted street along dark storefronts past the occasional commuter huddled in their coat at a bus stop.

The sun started creeping up as I got to Moorpark in about an hour.  That's when I figured I will really see if I'm running at 9 minute pace or my more normal 10 minute pace for long runs.  I started hitting my first little wall about 1-2 miles into the Moorpark stretch.

My left knee was twinging with pain - pain not nearly strong enough to be concerning, but distracting and irritating.  Overall my legs were feeling less springy and more complainy.  I noticed a slowdown in pace.  That wasn't good, so early into the run - about mile 8-9.

So I slowed down to a walk, took out a Clif bar and drank a bunch of water.  This is OK - some of the best marathon runners walk past aid stations and still finish with times in low 2 hours.  This seemed to help.  I think food's really important.  And while I can eat a Clif bar while running, it's really unpleasant, so walking for a bit to do it was OK.

After that I got some of the springiness back and kept going.  I was feeling good and said "Good Morning" to a few people standing about.

The next wall was much bigger... right around the industrial area between Glendale and the Valley at around mile 15-16.  That was killer.  My legs were hurting a lot more and they just felt stiff.  Various muscles felt like they wanted to start spasming - butt, hip flexors, hamstring... luckily they didn't.  While my left knee felt better, the ligaments behind it were more stiff and were complaining.

And that's when it hit me.

SHIT I HAVE 10 MORE MILES TO RUN.

UGH.

I also had to pee.  And I needed fluids badly.  So I looked up the nearest gas station on my phone - an Arco. And the vision of going into a dirty toilet while chugging Gatorade helped me along the next mile or so until I got to promised land.

The Gatorade helped a bit - I knew I wasn't drinking quite as much water as I would have liked - I didn't want to have to refill my 2L Camelbak.  That would require taking it off my sweaty back and taking time to fill it up.

Then, still feeling stiff, I pushed on.  At that point I wasn't feeling particularly light or springy.  Everytime I stopped, getting going again was tough.  I just felt increasingly stiff.  I also noticed I started heel-striking more.  Not all the way landing on the heel, but definitely more weight on the heel.  So I had to watch that.

It was grinding.  In fact, what kept me going was the thought of:

"Just grind it out, just grind it out" over and over and over.

I was able to get some mini-second winds, but they kept being interrupted by lights (UGH) or me deciding to eat a piece of Clif bar.

*NOTE to self: when feeling light and springy and second-windy, don't break it by eating, just keep going until it starts going away or I'm stopped by something else*

So the last 10 miles went about this way.  There were some killer hills at the end, as Glendale became Pasadena.

The best part were the last 7-8 blocks.  I thought back to some of the best runners described in Born To Run, who finished the toughest 100 mile races with a smile on their face... in fact kept the smile on the whole way, just happy to be running.  I started thinking of that while picking up the pace.  And this feeling came over me where the pain and hurt and complaints of my legs became abstracted from me.  It was like floating above my legs, feeling them remotely, while they did the running under me, and the rest of me just glided along.

Honestly, I think it looked much more awkward than gliding to an outside observer, but that feeling of going fast while subduing the pain and fatigue felt wonderful.  Just knowing that I could go fast right when I thought I had nothing left felt wonderful.

I finished in 4:45.  If I try to see what my actual race time would have been, I would subtract 15 minute for the extra 1.3 miles beyond the marathon, about 10 minutes for lights, distractions, finding my way, buying Gatorade.   So that's 4:20, or 10 minute miles.  LA marathon is also all downhill, so I probably could have squeezed a 4:15.  Still need to be 15 minutes faster to beat Palin.

Other thoughts:

I decided I'm not a huge fan of running through the city.  While getting places is certainly fun, all the lights and obstacles could get really irritating and they really break my rhythm.  Towards the end as I got stiffer, getting going again got harder.  I don't mind running on roads and it's kind of fun to be around people... I just don't like all the lights.

I wasn't super sore and was able to work a full day at First Wilshire no problem.  I was certainly sore and drained, but nothing beyond repair.  This was Wednesday morning and I went skiing on Friday in Utah and did another run on Sunday.  My left knee was probably the most sore up front, but still not bad overall.  One place that was surprisingly sore were the balls of my feet.  They felt bruised from the impact.  I guess the good thing is that my heels weren't sore at all - so I wasn't heel striking.  But this also went away in a couple of days.

Finally, I dislike feeling like I have something to do when I'm done or having a time constraint.  Like for this run, the thought of getting into work right after the run, having to shower and put on stuffy business clothes was not exciting at all.  I would rather just sit down and relax on my own or with friends.  Not that my co-workers are not friends, but I felt like I should get in and work hard since I already missed 2 hours of work.  I imagine this would change as runs like these become routine and I don't quite feel so drained.  To my credit, despite feeling drained, I also felt elated and surprisingly calm and had a productive day at work.

10k!

at 8:31 pace! Way below the 9:10 pace I need to keep to beat Sarah Palin.

- sent from my Droid

24:04!

New best time around the Rose Bowl 5K which translates to around 7:45 min/mi pace.  Howard and I ran.  I wasn't even tired or short of breath at the end... which means I probably could have done it in 23? 22??  21???

Maybe 6 minute mile is within reach after all...

I'm improving?

Two things recently:

1) I seem to have recovered from the 20 miler way faster than I expected given how shitty I felt the night of.  The next day I ran up and down the stairs no problem, and a day later (yesterday) I ran a 5K with my coworkers at around 8:10 pace, which is fast for me, and it felt good.  Maybe it's a fluke and it'll take me longer to recover from the next big run, or maybe I'm really improving.  

2) Last Thursday had to run about 1/3 mile from my car to the terminal as I was cutting it way too close to make my flight (I parked the car at like 20-25 minutes pre-flight).  I had on a heavy leather jacket, a reasonably full backpack, and work shoes.  Before I wouldn't even try running in non-running shoes.  But now, using my forefoot landing technique, I completed the run quickly (didn't time it, but ran the whole way without stopping) and made my flight.  Wasn't even short of breath.

20 Muir Beach Trail Run – One Day Later

So as I sit here on my balcony, feeling cold and thinking about yesterday… what comes to mind? 

Running long trail runs is really really hard!  Neither Sarah nor I have felt so utterly broken and destroyed after a run (including Sarah’s sub 4 hour marathon a few years earlier).  Sitting at the dinner table yesterday, showered and in comfy, frumpy clothes… we didn’t want to get up!  Just going to get some hot water from the teapot was a mission accompanied by “ih, oh, ih oh.”

Nothing really hurt in particular – except for a modest soreness in my left knee and a little bit in the lower calf/Achilles region of both legs.  It’s just my whole body felt drained and stiff.  Like an old rusted, un-oiled grandfather’s clock that was done ticking, yet was being forced to tick some more by some inconsiderate bastard. 

20 miles took just over 5 hours.  Not a time we’re proud of, but good enough given the conditions and our own states of being.  I’m still battling some sort of throat bug that comes and goes and Sarah’s recovering from bronchitis and ear infection.  And speaking of conditions…

When I saw the weather forecast that it was going to rain, I didn’t anticipate the biblical deluge that was going to dump on us.  At one point, running on a hillside that normally faces the ocean (in our case it faced a wall of fog and clouds), we got barraged by buckets of water being flung at us by the crisp “breeze” from the ocean.  I at one point was running one-handed with my right hand covering my face and eye.  Luckily by that point I was feeling good and had my runner’s high and rhythm going which made it all OK.

I think running in the cold makes it that much more difficult for me.  My muscles just don’t quite get warm the same way and feel stiffer.  I think it makes them hurt sooner and makes me less flexible/agile during the run.  It seems my minimum comfortable temperature is got to be in the 60s.  Or maybe I just need to wear tights. 

The other thing we didn’t anticipate is the mudwrestling.  Not wrestling each other in the mud, but literally wrestling the mud itself.  I still recall Sarah exclaiming “Trail runners are ridiculous!” in reference to the race organizers putting the most intense uphill/downhill in the very beginning of the course.  It’s the sort of climb that you will not see at a popular city race even if it didn’t involve wrestling mud along with hundreds of other people.  The mud was so bad that most of us opted to walk up the hill on the side of the trail (which at that place was as wide as a road).  Those brave souls trying to run moved only marginally faster despite their best efforts.  The mud was so wet, sticky, and slick that just standing in one place, one starts to slide down.  The stickiness makes it harder to lift your shoes out once they’re in, requiring even more energy for every step. Though the fun part was going downhill the same route.  At first I went slower, being afraid to slip.  But then I got the hang of it and rolled with the punches - taking huge steps, sometimes jumps, and just sliding down on the mud, screaming "WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" like a little kid.  

What else can I say?  Having a community of people out there was really cool.  There were a bunch of volunteers that came out to man the aid stations.  Not being used to being so cared for, I remember looking bewildered when a guy at the final aid station sought me with “What do you need?  What can I get you?”  “Umm………”  “Sports drink!” Sarah cut in who apparently was more on the ball.  It was organized by Pacific Coast Trail Runs. 

It was cool getting some varied food that we wouldn’t pack on our own necessarily, like boiled potatoes and salt, cookies and gummy bears.  They also had stuff like Cliff Energy Shots disgusting-tasting-but-apparently-really-good-for-you-gummy-cubes.  And it was cool knowing we’re not the only crazy fuckers running around in the rain and 50 degree cold.  We’d pass a person every once in a while and say Hi.  Ask how they’re doing, how long they’re running, etc. 

We also met these two dudes who were training for the North Face 50 miler in December which will happen in that area.  We waved at them thinking they were from the race, and they wound up joining us.  I picked their brain a bit about downhill running technique as they were clearly faster than us and looked like they knew what they were doing.  They suggested taking way smaller steps and making it more frequent – something I was already doing or trying to – and combine that with kind of zig-zagging it skiing style.  Using the terrain and stepping slightly sideways to brake.  Makes a lot of sense as it doesn’t put direct braking pressure on the knees, so I’ll play with a bit.  Sounds like a ton of fun!

Finally, big props to Sarah who manned up and pushed through despite being clearly in worse shape than me (as far as recovery from her sickness).  We had a moment at the first aid station where we almost turned back.  I told Sarah I will be fine with whatever decision she made and that’s it.  I knew that the only person who could convince her to do it was herself.  It reminded me of a time when Scott Jurek in Born To Run was laying face down on the ground during the Badwater Ultramarathon… thinking about quitting.  His wife didn’t say anything because whatever happened had to come from Scott.  He got up and won it.  Sarah got back into it and we finished, which is victory as far as we’re concerned.

So I continue to gain respect for the 100 milers, particularly on trails.  They use a variety of muscles and skills beyond just running on roads.  I think to do one requires years of training and skill.  I’m still really excited at the prospect and the journey to get there!

The Mount Wilson Almost Epic

***If you’re my Mom and reading this, please remember that I overdramatize things making them sound worse than they are, for entertainment value.***

I’ve been really excited to run Mt. Wilson for a few weeks now.  I did Mt. Lowe a few weeks ago and the Wilson run, being a slightly longer trek (7 mi vs. 6.5) with slightly higher elevation gain (around 4800 vs. 4000 something ft) was the next logical conquest.  I hiked the first few miles of the trail a number of times with my work buddies and otherwise, but never made it beyond the halfway point.  And never been to the top, despite spending the last 9 years in Pasadena, having a paved road that leads there, and legendary stories of Page initiations dropping pre-frosh off on top of the mountain with nothing.

I was ready to do it last week, but got rained out and did Henninger Flats. So this was the week.  That Wednesday morning I felt tired.  I got 6 hours of sleep, after getting another 6 hours the night before.  Not a terribly small amount, but a bit less than comfort zone.  I had a Guru Energy drink in the morning to get going.  Also, my throat felt like I could be getting sick.  It had that irritated, tickling feeling.  I ate a pill of BioGuard by Imagenetix that contained 1 billion of “good bacteria” as recommended by a coworker.  I decided to assess how I feel later in the day and then make the final decision to run, or not.

I don’t know if the billion bacteria did something, but come three o’clock, my throat felt normal and my energy levels improved.  I sure didn’t feel at my top shape, but much better.  I still considered the thought that it wasn’t a good idea, given my energy levels and potentially getting sick.  But the allure of the mountain quickly purged that thought.  In fact, I felt sad at the thought of not running it.  Or maybe, as my mom would say, “Моча в голову ударила” or “When the urine hits the brain” which means that when I decide to do something, it’s impossible to change my mind, even with mounting evidence against the idea.

In this case, the evidence was not mounting as this was a hard run, but not epic.  The weather was way better than last week (80s and dry down in Pasadena, so I figured subtract 15-20 for top of the mountain, and another 15 or so for after the sun sets), and this is a well-used well-maintained trail.

So I started at 4:30.  The minute I hit the trail, which doesn’t waste any time in going uphill, my leg muscles wailed in protest.  The realization of “I’m exhausted” set in as the thought crystallized in my mind.  I brushed it aside and pushed on.  This is the normal cry of protest as my body warms up and accepts that it’s time to run.  Well... it was certainly exacerbated by not getting quite enough sleep and starting out on a sharp uphill, but so it goes.

Breathing heavily, I pushed on.  Running up hill as much as I could, then taking a walking break to catch my breath and relieve the tension in the legs.  It was a rough rough rough rough rough climb.  Other than a relatively flat section in the middle, the uphill was unrelenting and steep.  So my legs never got a chance to recharge, and I had to rely on the walking breaks.  I practiced not stopping and walking as quickly as I could while still recharging.  

I don’t like having to walk when I set out to run.  It feels slow and it feels like cheating.  And I hope to get good enough that I can run up Wilson without stopping.  But from what I hear, walking up hills is a viable strategy for those running 100 milers.  Even if/when I get good enough to run up Wilson non-stop, it’d be that much harder to do it after already having run 50 miles or knowing that I have 50 more to go.  We shall cross that bridge when we get there.  For now, while my runs are relatively short, I will do the best I can and not worry about “strategy.”

I got to First Water (about 1.7 mi in from the car) in 25 minutes or in just under 15 minute miles.  This was a better time than I expected since I felt slow with all that walking.  I got encouraged.  As much as I try not to worry about time, I’m still a time junkie and one of the most enjoyable things about running for me is constantly improving.  

The next stretch to Orchard Camp was 2 miles and the trail wound through a forest of oaks and brush.  I still find it so surprising and refreshing to be in a forest right here in Los Angeles, so known for its deserts and unrelenting heat.  I made this stretch in 30 minutes, still keeping up the 15 minute pace.

3.5 miles in, 3.5 more to go.  That next stretch was hell.  The uphills seemed steeper and steeper, as if the mountain itself was tilting towards me, not wanting me to summit.  Also the trail got more narrow.  I did the only thing I could: run until exhausted, then walk, and then run again.  

Finally I got to the final checkpoint before the summit - the turn-off to Manzanita Ridge.  The sign said “Left” to get to the Mt Wilson toll road which jived with my map.  Then I would go for half a mile on the fire road, then back on the trail for the last 0.7 miles and I’m there.  The sign also said it was 2.25 mi to the top of Mt. Wilson.  2.25?!?  I thought I was 1.7 mi way (according to my map it was 0.5 to the fire road, 0.5  on the fire road, and 0.7 to the top).  Half a mile doesn’t seem like much, but after running uphill for the last hour and a half, having my remaining ascent increased by 30% was disheartening. Hanging on to the hope that the sign is wrong, I set off.

“Maybe I can make it before sunset and watch the sun set over LA from the top” I thought as I pushed forward.  The sun hasn’t quite set at that point.  Then, looking up over a ridge, I saw the top!!  I saw radio towers that seemed so close.  “There is no way I still have 2 miles to go - they’re right there!”  This gave me second wind and propelled me forward.  

I think the sign was wrong... or maybe referred to the distance to the top if one takes the fire road the whole way.  After 0.5 miles on the trail, I found the fire road.  Looked up and still saw the mountain top with its radio towers, so close, almost there!  I thirstily consumed my Gatorade Gel, went another half a mile, found the trail, and without losing any time set off for the top.  It was starting to get dark, but I figured I had enough light to get to the top without getting out my headlamp.  That would require taking off my Camelbak and would slow me down.  

So I pushed on in the shadows until finally I was there.  “Well that’s disappointing,” I thought as I looked around on the flat and deserted parking area.  Not a single car.  “Where are the good views?” I wondered as I wandered around the top.  Finally I walked up to an edge and was engulfed by LA’s million billion lights.  It was a congregation of tribal campfires lit up in the dusk.  

COOL.  I snapped a few pictures with my phone, noted that there weren’t many more places left to explore (seeing the barbed wire fence separating the radio towers), and got ready to head down.  I put on my new Princeton Tec headlamp and got back on the trail.

“THIS IS GOING TO TAKE A LONG TIME,” I thought to myself.  Have you ever run with a flashlight on uneven terrain?  Everything looked 2D and the shadows messed with my head.  I had a hard time telling whether something was a patch of dirt or an actual rock protruding from the trail that I had to get around.  And that’s still with residual sunlight.

I quickly took out my phone and texted Galen to push out my ETA to 9.  (As good practice, I let him know where I’m going and that I should be back down by 8, thinking I will take 2 hours to come up (and I did!) and 1.5 hours to get down (fat chance!)).  Also let Natalya know that I’m taking a while and may not make it to dinner which was supposed to be at 8.  

Half a mile on that trail back to the fire road took 10 minutes, so I’m going at about 3 miles an hour, so I should be down in 2-2.5 hours.  

It was getting cold.  I was already starting to feel it running, but ignored it as I focused on reaching my goal.  Now, on top of the mountain, in the dark, wearing shorts and a t-shirt... I was definitely feeling it.  Granted, it was a merino wool t-shirt which was warmer than your standard cotton tee, but it alone wasn’t going to make me feel warm in 50 degrees.  

As I got back on the fire road, I had a new mission - to find the trail head.  I knew it was 0.5 miles and to the right, since I turned left onto the fire road.  I figured I’m running at no faster than 10-12 minute miles, so I marked the time on my phone and knew that I have to start looking for the sign about 5-6 minutes in.

I ran for 7-8 minutes with no sign of the sign.  The only thing on the right side was an unending mountain side.  Hmmmm... This is not good.  Not good.  Where could it be?  Did I miss it?  I thought I was paying close attention.  Maybe the trail goes onto that ridge that I see protruding not too far ahead.  I ran towards it and watched it grow bigger and bigger from the darkness.  The fire road simply curved around it and there was still no trail head.

15 minutes in.  Could it be....?  But I distinctly remember turning left on the fire road which means the trail head had to be on the right.  Had to be.  I get out the map.  Lo and behold, I indeed turned RIGHT on the fire road. I turned LEFT on the turn leading up to the fire road which is what I was thinking about, but right on the actual fire road.  DOH, I've been looking on the wrong side.  Note to self, don’t rely on what I seem to remember, pay close attention to all trail turns and make mental notes, and look at the map!

I turned around and slowed down from a run to a walk.  I needed to calm myself and I didn’t want to miss the trail head again.  This time I walked on the correct side and examined all very carefully.  Meanwhile I ate my remaining Clif Bar - mint chocolate - calories here I come!  If anything is going to help against this cold is more fuel for the furnace.  Sarah calls me her inefficient heater.  Well, that’s 260 good ones thrown in the oven.

As I back-tracked, I played worst case scenarios in my head - something I do in bad situations that helps me deal.  If I don’t find the trailhead, what do I do?  1) I call Galen to pick me up from the top - after all, there is a road that goes there.  2) I run down the fire road, towards Henninger Flats, and get out on Allen.  It’s about 10 miles, but a much easier run since it’s a wide flat road, not a rocky, windy trail.  Then I can have Galen pick me up or just run to my car on city streets.  OK, should be fine.

After what seemed like an eternity of walking back, the trail sign materialized from the darkness.  *BIG SIGH OF RELIEF*

Now it’s 7:30.  6 miles to go.  I don’t think I can get down by 9, so I send Galen another text pushing the time back to 10 and let Natalya know I’m probably not making it to dinner. And set off on the run.  

I still felt cold, while my head felt sweaty, which was weird.  The thought of hypothermia crossed my mind... but I didn’t know much about it (read up wilderness survival stuff and take Matt from work out to lunch and pick his brain.  I should know this stuff if I’m going to go out into the wilderness).  Other than being slightly short of breath, I felt fine.  Cold, but fine.  

“You are tougher than you think you are,” the phrase from Born to Run crossed my mind.  This is the mantra of the Leadville 100 in Colorado, one of the hardest hundred milers in the country where the entire race occurs at 10,000+ ft elevation.  The book discussed one outdoor enthusiast whose arm got caught by an 800 pound boulder in a remote area in Southern Utah.  After living off his supplies for 4 days without anyone finding him, he sawed off his arm with a knife and walked out of the wilderness.  Now that’s tough.

What I’m doing is children’s play.  Running around a groomed trail in 50 degree weather in Southern California.  No problem.

Who else is here??  What are these two flashlights doing shining at me out of the forest?  I froze in my tracks, surprised to find another person on the mountain.  I looked and the flash lights shined right back at my headlamp.  I walked a few steps closer, along the trail.  Then they moved and I saw a catlike silhouette.  

A bobcat!  

That makes a lot of sense.  I seemed to remember hearing that bobcats could be aggressive (not true as I just looked up).  I quickly turned and ran on my way.  “Nothing to see here, Mr. Bobcat.  Just minding my own business and you mind yours.”

The rest of the run down was uneventful other than losing the trail for a couple of minutes at Orchard Camp (it switched sharply back and I went straight into the camp).  My legs and knees held up really well on the downhill as I used Barefoot Ted’s technique to bend at the knees and take very small steps.  

I made it down by 9:30, ran up to my car and gave it a hug.  It’s good to be back.  

So to sum it up, 7 miles and 4800 feet uphill in 2 hours - very respectable.  Downhill took another 3 hours (including 30 minutes of finding my way) - a little slower than I’d like, though that was more of a function of not being used to running with a headlamp then physical limitations.  Something I will have to work on for the 100 milers that will inevitably include a night portion.  

My respect for the 100 mile races continues to grow as I go out running into the wilderness.  Here I covered 14 miles in 5 hours.  Running a hundred miler is 7 times as long, including ~8 hours of night running, and quite possibly colder weather, not to mention rain.  That said, this is probably one of the hardest ascents in the US as far as trail runs go, since the San Gabriel Mountains are some of the steepest in the world. 

More Running In The Rain

It poured all day yesterday.  Sarah was sick, so I did the long run on my own.  I figure, if I'm going to do be doing 100 milers, I have to thrive (or at least survive!) in any weather.  Was going to do 17 miles, but wound up doing around 14.  It was hard due to 1) cold, 2) wet ground is less springy, and jumping over puddles (should have jumped into them in retrospect - weee!)

I decided to cut it short because the ligament behind my left knee was feeling a little weird - it twinged when I tried to take bigger steps and work the left hamstring.  It felt similar towards the end of a 3 day bike tour.  I'll have to play with it.  I think the cold may have contributed to its stiffness.

I saw a mini flash flood where a stream about 1 foot wide full of dirt and debris flooded on top of a much smaller, clear stream.  That was cool and I got to jump over the incoming stream.  So was seeing a male deer with full antlers (or horns?).  My first thought was "oh, there is a deer chilling, this means there aren't any bears around... wait, what about all those times there wasn't a deer?"  Maybe I've been running for too long at that point.

Technique wise, I was trying to work on having my feet pointed slightly up before landing.  Overall, I had a hard time working on technique because I got tired and the ligament.  So particularly at the end I reverted to the shuffling step that has worked well for me.  It looks and feels somewhat awkward and is, I'm sure, inefficient, but I seem to be able to do it for a while without hurting myself, which is step 1.

So far I've been focusing on technique on shorter runs and largely doing what comfortable on longer runs where it's more important to go the distance and build the endurance.  My hope is that with time I can incorporate more and more good technique in my long runs.

Also, looking at my last few long runs, typically they go like this:

5-15 minutes (fresh beginning): everything feels great, muscles are fresh and fast

Next 30-60 minutes (warming up, going through the first wall): short of breath, muscles feel tired and achy - I can almost see the lactic acid flowing through them.  This is the time of self doubt and thoughts like "Why do I keep doing this to myself?" and "Maybe I should just slow down and walk."  I found that strategic walking actually can help quite a bit.  If the beginning of the run is uphill, which many are, taking even a 25 foot walking break, goes a long way to releasing the built up tension and recharging me to go lighter and faster.  I think it's this period that made distance running so hateful to me (and, I'm sure, many other people).  I think I'm slower to warm up than the average person - we found out from my time in sprints that it can take my body up to 1.5 hours to really get going.

Next ~60 minutes (peak, smooth sailing): body finally warmed up, breathing is easy, legs are churning.  It feels good, light, and elating.  I can go on like this forever - and that's why I grew to love running.

The last part (slowing down): the peak has typically been limited by my muscle endurance rather than energy.  While energy wise I usually feel fine and my breathing is easy and regular, my muscles or ligaments or what have you start aching here and there, which causes me to slow down and lose form.

I suppose the only way to fix that is to keep at it and make them stronger.

Oh, and about two new pieces of gear:
Merino Wool T by Stoic worked out really well.  Even though I was soaking wet the whole time, my upper body didn't feel nearly as cold as I did wearing Putin earlier in the week.

Also, Wrightsock no-blister socks worked great too - despite my feet completely soaked for 3 hours straight, no blisters, discomfort or irritations.  Compare to the aforementioned earlier run in the rain wearing normal socks where feet didn't get soaked, but I got at least one enormous blister.

Useful Running Technique Videos from New York Marathon

These are by the people who put up the New York Marathon.

Two I found particularly good are this one on posture and this one on leg movements.

It confirmed many of the things I knew, like clawing the ground, stepping on the front of the foot, but not on the toe, not heel striking, but also had some other good stuff, like pushing the leg forward via the hamstring, flexing the toes up on every step, and more.

Now, still need to find a good video on proper downhill running form.

Running in Clouds

Some people walk on clouds - not me.

I was going to run up Mt. Wilson today... but the weather forecast said T-storms.  Running up a mountain peak in the middle of a t-storm, too stupid of an idea even for me... that said, I probably would have done it if A) I had warm clothes and B) I didn't have a time constraint of grabbing dinner at Teddy's house by 7:30.

I still wanted to get a long run in... first I thought of doing 2-3 laps around the Rose Bowl trail... but that didn't sound very exciting.  Then I remembered Henninger Flats - it's a mini plateau about 2500 feet up and the way to get there is a 3 mi (one way) steep as hell fire road where I mountain bike with my work buddies.  To make it a full run, I decided to run to it from the office for a total of 7-7.5 mi one way.

I didn't want to get my phone wet, so I used to clock on my waterproof camera.  Well, it's not quite as waterproof as they claim.  I dumped it into a jacuzzi once to show off... and it got water inside, so I had to dry it for a while.  In any case, I figured it should be waterproof for a little drizzle.

The higher up I ran, the more that drizzle started to look like a downpour.  By the time I was on the mountain I was drenched.  I was also very cold.  My Merino Wool T-shirts that I stole for an amazing price from www.steepandcheap.com haven't gotten here yet.  So I wore a cotton T-shirt with Vladimir Putin given to me by my uncle from Russia.  Putin might be good at bullying Georgia, but he didn't make me feel any warmer (or fuzzier).

I thought of turning around as worrying thoughts kept dragging me down "Oh, it's so cold, I can catch pneumonia or something."  But I asked myself if I actually physically felt bad right now and the answer was No.  So fuck it, let's just do it.

The run up was tough and I walked a few times, but never for more than 50 feet.  Walking gave a chance for my legs to rest just a tad which made me able to run again.  I practiced running to the top of hills and then running even faster on the downhill.  So in a race situation, I can smoke somebody on the uphill and then not let them catch me on a downhill.  This is not easy because by the time I get to the top of the hill, my legs feel like wood.  But I was able to push through that and make my Pinocchio legs move.  Whenever I took walking rests, it was only on uphills.

I was running into a white blanket of wetness and clouds.  At times, I could barely see 50 feet ahead.  I felt like if I run just a little bit faster, I will dissipate into the cloud and be engulfed by it.  But like magic, no matter how fast I ran, the cloud ran even faster and I was still able to see my precious 50 feet ahead.

I saw only one guy on the way up, he was coming down.  We waved at each other.  I yelled "Hardcore!" and he yelled back "Enjoy!"  I felt a sense of camaraderie.  Out of a metro area of 10 million people, it was just him and I up there.

I made it up in 35 minutes, tying or slightly beating my MTB time.  I've always thought that running is faster than MTB on the steep hills and this seems to prove it.

I rested under a tree trying to get any shelter I could from the rain.  Unsuccessfully.

A few minutes later I was on my way down.

The wind chilled me to the bones.  "This is going to SUCK.  I didn't think I would be running donwhill fast enough to get wind chill (unlike going downhill on a bike which is way faster)."

But after running for just a few minutes, I warmed up and got into the groove!  I felt exhilarated and light, just gliding my way down the mountain, in a cloud.  I screamed.  And then a beautiful view opened up to me of the city below, barely visible through the storm, and hulking towers from the high voltage transmission line jabbing their way out of the fog yet still blurry from being surrounded by it.  And the rain rhythmically humming all around.  It just felt so peaceful.

I got what I came for.

Running in the rain

Ran in the rain with a buddy for a couple of miles. Mostly trying to work on form. In order for me to get the form right (what feels right to me anyway) I have to go fast. And that feels great! I even get that gliding sensation described in Born To Run.

But how does that work for longer runs where I don't have the energy or muscle endurance to go fast for long?

Pretty Run, Sore Calves, and a Race for my Life

Went on an 11-mile run in Muir Woods on Saturday morning with Sarah.  We aimed for a 15 miler, but Sarah left her shoes at home, so we picked up new shoes along the way as well as a trail map of the Mt. Tam area.  Oh and of course lots of pumpkin spice Clif bars which you apparently can only find at the Sports Basement.

The map turned out to be a good decision as the wilderness has 50 miles of criss-crossing trails.

I really enjoyed the run.  It was my first run through a forest (I guess if we don't count a run-hike in Seattle).  I love forests.  They're my favorite landscape.  So lush and full of life and greenery.  And the ground is perfect for running - soft but not muddy.  Has ups and downs, but not rocky.

On this run I started out focusing on my form.  Not heel striking, but also making sure I don't stay too high up on my toes - so landing on sort of the front half of the foot.  And when landing, my foot is already going a little bit backwards, so there is a nice tap as opposed to a scrape which means I'm braking.

Also trying to use my hamstrings to sort of claw at the ground to get more forward before pushing off.  I'm not sure if I'm doing any of it right, but I watched a bunch of YouTube videos and it seems like that's the right thing to do.

The other thing I tried was Barefoot Ted's technique of tacking steep downhills.  He bends his knees a lot which lifts up the heels, helping them naturally contour the steeper slope and creating more traction.  He also takes way smaller steps.  That worked WONDERFULLY!!!  I went down a rather steep descent FAST!  Before I was trying to stay on my toes while keeping the legs as straight as during normal grades, and that just felt awkward - I was scraping and braking with my toes all the time while struggling not to bang on my heels and knees.  And now, I just glided down that thing - fast and light.  It was REALLY FUN!

Though I think all these experimentation combined with an 11 mile run on rough terrain finally did my calves in.  The right one particularly was hurting from experimenting with form for the previous few days.  So on the final 3 mile downhill stretch, I had a really rough time.  I was fine energetically, but the calf was wincing at every step.  So finally I gave in - got to listen to my body - and started landing more on the mid-foot or even heels.

In normal circumstances, we'd just slow down the pace or even walk... but I had to be at Pier 33 to start the tour of Alcatraz for a buddy's bachelor party at 2:30 (no later than 2:45).  The other problem was that when we first glanced at the map trying to calculate how much longer to go... we roughly estimated the way back to be a "couple" of miles which turned into three.  So despite the wincing calf, I had to book after Sarah who was sprinting ahead like it's everyday stuff.  And I'm glad she did.

We got to the car at 2:15 and Sarah drove out of there like a madwoman, taking those curves in the 1990s Toyota pick up with no power steering.  We were making great time until the traffic jam at the toll at Golden Gate - wish I had an EZ Pass!  I don't know if that's a law of physics, but whenever you're in a hurry, you always wind up in the slowest lane.  This was no exception.  We fumed and shook our fists at the slow bridge worker and the slow people who didn't have their cash ready.

Past the bridge, we hit an unlucky streak of traffic lights as I frantically called Bill and pleaded with them to beg the gate guard to keep it open for just a tad longer.  AND WHAT THE FUCK is that dude on a skate board doing in the middle of a busy street right in front of us?!?!??!  "Calm down" said Sarah, "he's not going any slower than us."  True... DOH!

I jump out of the car and run across traffic, sprint to the gate - wincing calves or no, it's all or nothing now.  Oh so crowded - where are they?!?!?!?!?!  I poke my head here and there... oh shit..

"Dima!  Dima!" - I follow the screams and find two of my buddies way ahead on the pier.  I run up there, and squeeze through as the gatekeeper locks the gate after me.  I bow down in gratitude, run onto the boat and take a breath as it pushes off.

"Dima, you're a crazy man."

Yes.

Running in Muir Woods

Sarah and I on a gorgeous 11 mile run through Muir Woods.

I Ran Like An Antelope

It is a warm summer day in Moscow.  I am playing with my little brother and some other kids outside my grandparents' Khrushchev-era five story apartment building.  We're all frolicking around in the greenery and the trees playing tag.

As I'm running through the trees being chased by one girl, I suddenly notice that another kid is flanking me from the left (I suppose it was some sort of a team version of tag!).  I don't have a moment to think and do the one thing that comes naturally - veer right and pick up the pace. 

I feel fast.  Really fast.   The trees and the bushes zoom towards me and past me, in a green-black blur.  I forget the feel of ground under me and not notice as I'm brushed  by tree branches or bushes.  I remember, with great satisfaction, the look of surprise on the flanking kid's face as I streak past his stretching hand.  

"Я бежал как антилопа" or "I ran like an antelope" I think to myself that night, looking back on that moment.  Why would a six-seven year old kid be thinking about running like antelopes?  If I had to guess, it was because about that time I was reading lots of Mayne Reid - he writes about adventures in places like Africa, such as The Giraffe Hunters.  Bottom line is the phrase stuck and is one of my earlier memories.

Though this was sprinting.  My first encounters with distance running were hateful.  Our PE teacher was an old, gruff and grumpy man.  He was also short and skinny and walked with a permanent limp.  He looked like the sort of guy who smoked a lot and spent lots of time in the sun.  Or maybe he had some Caucasian in him.  Not white, but someone who is from the Caucasus - I just don't know how to say it in English.  He was strict, could weave magic with his hands and a basketball, but couldn't run to save his soul.  

OK, so he did have a limp, but that didn't make me any less mad at him when he made us run circles around the Gym while standing on the side and barking commands.  Oh, I hated those days.  Unlike running fast and short, which is all fun and WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, running those circles, I felt pain in my side, pain in my legs, I sweat, I was short of breath.  It was all sorts of bad news.  I remember cutting corners, just wanting the whole ordeal to be over.

My feelings towards distance running didn't change much in high school.  I dreaded the days we had to run the mile - or one lap around the school (it was a big school - 4500 kids - 3rd biggest in the US.  We had to have three staggered tracks so only 3000 kids would be at the school at one time.)  I was light on my feet and skinny, so I did OK - my time was typically in the low 6s and once I broke 6.   But it wasn't any fun and I dreaded the pain and having to push myself as my legs didn't want to move and were turning to Jell-O.  There was one guy who had his friend pick him up in a car and drop him off close to the finish line.  If I wasn't so straight-laced, I would have wished I was him.

Where am I going with this?

Oh right, how I hated distance running ever since I can remember.

So in college, I didn't do any organized sports for the first two years.  (I guess I didn't do any organized sports in high school, or ever.)  Then one summer evening in 2004 I was watching the High Jump event of the Olympics.  Those women looked beautiful, with their rippling quads, and it looked like SO MUCH FUN.  I love to jump.  Jump over trash cans, jump to reach the ceiling, jump over rivers, jump out of a second floor window.  Jump jump jump.  So the next morning I emailed the track coach and asked what it would take for me to be on the team at my college?  

"Just come to practice," she replied.  That's it???  Yay for Division III.  

Despite what I consider a pretty good natural jumping ability (I cleared 5' with a scissor kick jump), I was not on my way to becoming a world champion high jumper.  I could never get the flop down for the life of me... I just have a hard time multi-tasking and keeping track of so many things in such a short period of time.  Stomach tucks in where and legs and arms and head and then reverse it all in the next split second.

In the meantime, I started dabbling in the sprints.  Oh I LOVE the sprints.  They're short, painless and I can run like the antelope again!  Painless - that's before I discovered the 4.  To my surprise I fell in love with the 4.  It's the longest run that doesn't require any strategy.  Well, maybe the pros have strategy, but my time improved by a few seconds when the coach told me to stop pacing myself and go all out as if I'm doing a 100 from the very start.  I looked forward to putting on my spikes.  I had these zebra spikes that made me run completely on my toes.  It felt light and FAST.   I hear my feet in those spikes clacking on the rubber track just thinking about it.  But what I loved the most about a 400 (and what I dreaded too and anticipated every time) is the feeling of complete exhaustion at the finish line, from giving it all I've got.

That's how I became a snobby sprinter.  When every once in a while Sarah convinced me to go running with her, it was all bitching and moaning the whole way.  "I'm a sprinter," I would say.  "I like my pain in short sweet intervals, and I'm done."  I complained about the pain - that's the thing that got me the worst in distance running.  I didn't have a very high pain tolerance.  I bitched about her going too fast.  I got mad at her for wanting to talk to me ("I don't want to talk when I'm in pain!  Leave me alone, I'm only doing this for you.").  Back then it was very puzzling why people would subject themselves to these things.  Particularly the marathon, which Sarah ran.  That's ~4 hours of non-stop pain!!  What are they thinking?!?!

How did I go from that to wanting to run 100 miles?  I'm frankly puzzled myself, but I'd have to write about that in the next post.

Why This Blog?

As some of you may know, since about a month and a half ago I got obsessed about running.  I think about it a lot.  All the time.  Whether it's mental analysis of how to improve my technique, anguishing hopes of not getting injured, or imagining all the crazy runs I can do in my lifetime, running is my preoccupation.

I think this fits pretty well the definition of obsession: "the domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc." hence the name.

So the reasons for starting this blog are three-fold:
1) To provide a creative outlet for all this mental energy (running is certainly an outlet for the physical one!)
2) To share my experience and hopefully find like-minded people
3) It'd be interesting to read this stuff years from now!  I read over some of the things I wrote back in high school and Oh Boy, what was I thinking??

So, there you have it.