Wednesday, February 23, 2011
new high!
ran 9 miles at 7:45 pace!!! and could have gone faster, but was pacing Howard. before i was happy to run 3 miles at that pace.
Monday, February 7, 2011
checking in, thoughts
haven't written in a while. probably because i haven't been running a whole lot. i never did get into a good running groove in BsAs. partially because i was stressed out with work, partially because it's not that great for running (most of the parks are not super pretty and just have concrete paths... the ecological reserve is better), and partially due to the unbearable humid heat.
i'm becoming a bit more picky as a runner, perhaps. i am not that excited about running in cities. the initial few exploratory runs are fun and interesting, but running in a city, with cars and traffic lights, on pavement, day in day out is not that enticing. the reason i did so great with running in brazil, i think, despite the heat and working a lot can largely be attributed to having a gorgeous enticing park nearby with an amazing trail all around it. it was a prefect place for regular workouts.
though i've certainly picked it up here in Christchurch. the city is nothing short of gorgeous. not grand or majestic, like Rio, but very pretty, with a river going through it, lots of parks and gardens, and paths, and little trails everywhere. so out of the 5 days that i've been here, i went out running for 3 of them, and would have been more if i didn't hurt my hip, which is the other thing i wanted to write about.
despite getting into distance running rather suddenly, i've blessedly remained injury free, knock on wood. on saturday, i decided to do a roughly 2 hour run through the parks in christchurch and i wanted to do it at a "fast" pace. i don't have a watch and not even a phone here (my little nokia phone requires a super bulky adapater, due to being from HK, so i decided not to bring it) to keep time and no GPS to know how far i'm running. so i just said, i'll run through the park until it gets dark, which should be roughly in 2 hours, and i'll run at a speed that feels faster than my typical long distance speed. scientific!
upon coming to a ginormous field of grass, without thinking about it, i took of my shoes and started running barefoot. i thought i'd just run around that whole grassy portion of the park barefoot, and then continue the rest of the run. well... it turned out to be HUGE. i probably ran 3-4 miles barefoot which is more than i've ever run barefoot, and more than recently for sure. also i ran at a faster pace than i normally run barefoot, in concert with trying to make it a 'fast' run. it felt good, but i started feeling a small tweak in my right hip. i've felt small tweaks like that before, so i didn't pay it much mind.
when i put on my shoes and kept going around the park, the tweak got worse and started to hurt. once i figured out that it's not going away, i called it quits and went to watch the free Classical concert in the park (featuring Beethoven, swing dancing, the local choir, waltz and more - great time).
learning to listen to my body, i took it easy for the next 2 days, and went running again today. i thought i'd run along the river all the way to the ocean. gorgeous run. glad i did it as i was feeling really lazy earlier in the day, and pretty much went to bed to read and take a nap... but while in bed, i just had the urge to get out there and run, so i did!
wasn't running particularly fast - not feeling terribly energetic due to not getting full sleep for 2-3 nights (can't seem to sleep in too late) - but steady, and feeling good. then a few miles into it, i felt the hip again. GRRRRR. i tried to go a little further, and realized it wasn't going away. determined to see the ocean, i continued to walk along the river, but then got bogged down with bridges, not being able to cross, and having to backtrack, which would have been no problem if i could run, but would take way too long walking, so i decided to just turn back.
listening to my body, i walked back instead of running. but walking was boring and slow. though gave me time to think. i'm pretty sure that barefoot run was what did me in. 1) it's much different from my normal running routine, 2) i don't quite have the form. i'm pretty sure i was heel-striking somewhat. it was particularly obvious when running on aslphalt - my heels kept hitting it and it was hard so i could feel it very well. i think running on grass gave an illusion that i wasn't heel striking as hard thanks to the cushioning, but perhaps it was deceptive.
as i kept walking along, running was tempting. so i started playing around with different things to see if i can find a way to run and make the hip feel fine. i tried stepping more gingerly, using more of the forefoot springiness. and tried something else, and suddenly i felt a faint, but distinct pain in my left shin. NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! shin splints/!?! a small wave of panic engulfed me. i haven't felt shin splints for months, since i first changed my form from heel striking to landing on the toes.
i'm clearly doing something wrong. i tried a few more things, and i still either felt the hip or the shin. and it didn't feel right. ok, i thought to myself, how's this, what i'm trying to do, different from the way i run normally? so i relaxed and just ran the way it felt natural.
magically the shin quieted and even more amazingly the hip stayed quiet as well. i ran on, at a slow pace, but ran on.... and felt fine! there were a few tense moments in the hip, but no pain. i even picked up the pace a bit a few times and pretty much ran all the way home.
i was exhilarated! i did it! i conquered the pain with form, again!
and now that we got into the wasatch 100 (OMG HOLY SHIT OMG), form is going to be crucial from avoiding injury, both in training and during the race. i think working up the stamina to withstand this sort of punishment is going to be relatively straightforward, since we're young and energetic, and already in good shape. but making sure that my muscles, bones, and joints can take all this punishment, particularly going up and down mountains on uneven, treacherous surfaces, would be the greatest challenge.
the other thing that i don't like is that even though i managed, now twice, to do something with my form to get rid of pain... i still don't have a good understanding of what i did and why it worked, particularly for this second time (the first change was rather drastic, but this time around the changes i was trying have been more subtle). this makes me rather uncomfortable. not knowing how it works, i can make the same mistakes over and over, or not be trying the right solutions when something else flares up. so i'd like to find a book on biomechanics to better understand the musculoskeletal system. also, once we're back, i'd like to find a coach who's both an ultraunner and obsessed with form/biomechanics, and do a some sessions to correct whatever i'm doing wrong (which i'm sure is a ton) and pick his brain.
the other unrelated thing i wanted to mention quickly, which probably deserves its own post sometime, is how running has integrated itself into my life. no matter where i am, LA, chile, argentina, new zealand, i'm drawn outside, drawn to the wilderness, drawn to run. it's an itch and a craving. it gives me a sense of independence and freedom... no matter where i am, i can always run. it's something to do, and a way i can always feel free and happy. the happy feeling "i can run like this forever" is amazing. i'm sure it's the endorphins speaking, but it is what it is.
the run in the dark in chile along the beach was probably the happiest of them all... i felt SO exhilarated. just those few moments are worth all the other times when it feels like work and effort.
i'm becoming a bit more picky as a runner, perhaps. i am not that excited about running in cities. the initial few exploratory runs are fun and interesting, but running in a city, with cars and traffic lights, on pavement, day in day out is not that enticing. the reason i did so great with running in brazil, i think, despite the heat and working a lot can largely be attributed to having a gorgeous enticing park nearby with an amazing trail all around it. it was a prefect place for regular workouts.
though i've certainly picked it up here in Christchurch. the city is nothing short of gorgeous. not grand or majestic, like Rio, but very pretty, with a river going through it, lots of parks and gardens, and paths, and little trails everywhere. so out of the 5 days that i've been here, i went out running for 3 of them, and would have been more if i didn't hurt my hip, which is the other thing i wanted to write about.
despite getting into distance running rather suddenly, i've blessedly remained injury free, knock on wood. on saturday, i decided to do a roughly 2 hour run through the parks in christchurch and i wanted to do it at a "fast" pace. i don't have a watch and not even a phone here (my little nokia phone requires a super bulky adapater, due to being from HK, so i decided not to bring it) to keep time and no GPS to know how far i'm running. so i just said, i'll run through the park until it gets dark, which should be roughly in 2 hours, and i'll run at a speed that feels faster than my typical long distance speed. scientific!
upon coming to a ginormous field of grass, without thinking about it, i took of my shoes and started running barefoot. i thought i'd just run around that whole grassy portion of the park barefoot, and then continue the rest of the run. well... it turned out to be HUGE. i probably ran 3-4 miles barefoot which is more than i've ever run barefoot, and more than recently for sure. also i ran at a faster pace than i normally run barefoot, in concert with trying to make it a 'fast' run. it felt good, but i started feeling a small tweak in my right hip. i've felt small tweaks like that before, so i didn't pay it much mind.
when i put on my shoes and kept going around the park, the tweak got worse and started to hurt. once i figured out that it's not going away, i called it quits and went to watch the free Classical concert in the park (featuring Beethoven, swing dancing, the local choir, waltz and more - great time).
learning to listen to my body, i took it easy for the next 2 days, and went running again today. i thought i'd run along the river all the way to the ocean. gorgeous run. glad i did it as i was feeling really lazy earlier in the day, and pretty much went to bed to read and take a nap... but while in bed, i just had the urge to get out there and run, so i did!
wasn't running particularly fast - not feeling terribly energetic due to not getting full sleep for 2-3 nights (can't seem to sleep in too late) - but steady, and feeling good. then a few miles into it, i felt the hip again. GRRRRR. i tried to go a little further, and realized it wasn't going away. determined to see the ocean, i continued to walk along the river, but then got bogged down with bridges, not being able to cross, and having to backtrack, which would have been no problem if i could run, but would take way too long walking, so i decided to just turn back.
listening to my body, i walked back instead of running. but walking was boring and slow. though gave me time to think. i'm pretty sure that barefoot run was what did me in. 1) it's much different from my normal running routine, 2) i don't quite have the form. i'm pretty sure i was heel-striking somewhat. it was particularly obvious when running on aslphalt - my heels kept hitting it and it was hard so i could feel it very well. i think running on grass gave an illusion that i wasn't heel striking as hard thanks to the cushioning, but perhaps it was deceptive.
as i kept walking along, running was tempting. so i started playing around with different things to see if i can find a way to run and make the hip feel fine. i tried stepping more gingerly, using more of the forefoot springiness. and tried something else, and suddenly i felt a faint, but distinct pain in my left shin. NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! shin splints/!?! a small wave of panic engulfed me. i haven't felt shin splints for months, since i first changed my form from heel striking to landing on the toes.
i'm clearly doing something wrong. i tried a few more things, and i still either felt the hip or the shin. and it didn't feel right. ok, i thought to myself, how's this, what i'm trying to do, different from the way i run normally? so i relaxed and just ran the way it felt natural.
magically the shin quieted and even more amazingly the hip stayed quiet as well. i ran on, at a slow pace, but ran on.... and felt fine! there were a few tense moments in the hip, but no pain. i even picked up the pace a bit a few times and pretty much ran all the way home.
i was exhilarated! i did it! i conquered the pain with form, again!
and now that we got into the wasatch 100 (OMG HOLY SHIT OMG), form is going to be crucial from avoiding injury, both in training and during the race. i think working up the stamina to withstand this sort of punishment is going to be relatively straightforward, since we're young and energetic, and already in good shape. but making sure that my muscles, bones, and joints can take all this punishment, particularly going up and down mountains on uneven, treacherous surfaces, would be the greatest challenge.
the other thing that i don't like is that even though i managed, now twice, to do something with my form to get rid of pain... i still don't have a good understanding of what i did and why it worked, particularly for this second time (the first change was rather drastic, but this time around the changes i was trying have been more subtle). this makes me rather uncomfortable. not knowing how it works, i can make the same mistakes over and over, or not be trying the right solutions when something else flares up. so i'd like to find a book on biomechanics to better understand the musculoskeletal system. also, once we're back, i'd like to find a coach who's both an ultraunner and obsessed with form/biomechanics, and do a some sessions to correct whatever i'm doing wrong (which i'm sure is a ton) and pick his brain.
the other unrelated thing i wanted to mention quickly, which probably deserves its own post sometime, is how running has integrated itself into my life. no matter where i am, LA, chile, argentina, new zealand, i'm drawn outside, drawn to the wilderness, drawn to run. it's an itch and a craving. it gives me a sense of independence and freedom... no matter where i am, i can always run. it's something to do, and a way i can always feel free and happy. the happy feeling "i can run like this forever" is amazing. i'm sure it's the endorphins speaking, but it is what it is.
the run in the dark in chile along the beach was probably the happiest of them all... i felt SO exhilarated. just those few moments are worth all the other times when it feels like work and effort.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Santiago is awesome!
Facebook status: Dmitriy is overjoyed by Santiago because i just got to run on a trail that starts a couple of blocks from my hostel in a trendy part of town and goes all the way into the snow-capped Andes. and there were ripe wild plums along the way to sustain me after the Clif bars ran out
(it took 3 hours to find the trail, so I didn't go anywhere near the Andes, but maybe tomorrow!)
(it took 3 hours to find the trail, so I didn't go anywhere near the Andes, but maybe tomorrow!)
The Path Of Desolation
One of the things I really wanted to do on this trip was trail run in Patagonia. Since I was a little kid, having watched the movie In Search of the Castaways based on Jules Verne's book where the protagonists are on a goose chase trying to find Captain Grant (or his children) based on a message in a bottle and trek through Patagonia among other places, I've been drawn to it. It always seemed so mysterious, wild, untamed, alluring. So running through it was on my bucket list for this trip.
While we didn't quite get to the rugged wilderness of Patagonia proper - that was rather far South to go and Jessie has a bad ankle, limiting our abilities to trek - we wound up on the Southern edge of Lake Country, a very pretty region with, you guess it, enormous, magnificent lakes, as well as lush forest covered mountains, and breathtaking volcanoes everywhere you look.
We wound up crashing at a tourist town called Puerto Varas, on the Llanquihue (yan-kee-wue) Lake, the 3rd largest lake in South America, surrounded by rugged rivers, forests, and BIG-ASS VOLCANOES! (Not to mention pastoral German countryside in the other direction).
The most prominent one, Volcan Osorno, towers over the opposite side of the lake and is a perfect snow-capped cone. I got a list of trails in the tourist office and the distances looked disappointingly short. 500m. 2 km. 6 km. 4 km. Oh there is one, 12 km. "Paso Desolacion" I guess that's my guy!
Parque Nacional Vicente Perez Rosales is about 70 km from the town, so after a 1 hour long bus ride, I'm there. First thing after getting off the bus, I'm already courted by a few Vichus (spelling), which are these nasty horse flies with females reaching over 1 inch in length. Click on the link for a picture of the bloodsuckers. Apparently they only appear for 2-3 weeks during the summer, and we happened to pick that time to come. Go figure. They're big, loud, and black with some red. The bites are supposed to hurt like hell. But they're also slow and due to being loud, relatively easy to ward off. The problem is, the fuckers are persistent, as I found out.
So at any rate, I'm wandering around looking for the start of the trail, already waving my arms and my hat like an idiot trying to ward off a few of the buzzing vampires.
I sign in with the forest rangers, pick up a map, find the trail and start running. About time! The bugs chasing after me. Good thing is when I'm running they have virtually no chance to land, being big, relatively slow and bulky.
The trail sucks. It's all dark grey sand, volcanic ash and loose rocks. Lots of give, hard to get traction and good power. The bugs are really annoying too. Even though they don't really land on me, but the constant buzzing and the worry. And occasionally one flies to close to my ear or face and I instinctively brush it off, but that messes up the running rhythm. It's also getting really hot - I'm wearing my lime green Nike technical and the polyester long sleeve on top of it. And I'm wearing zip-off pants I bought for $40 for the Volcano climb.
Keep running or take stuff off?
I'd like to take stuff off, but that means dealing with the freaking bugs while stationary. But running and wearing all that stuff, I'll dehydrate way too quickly and run out of water. Ah shit, I guess I gotta stop. I take off my hat and start waving at the bugs while frantically losing clothes. Zipping off the bottoms of my pants, one of the zippers breaks. The thing's like made of plastic. Piece of shit. Wasn't worth the $40 at all. Last time I buy no-brand outdoor gear.
Finally I'm cooler and off on my way. Running through trees and bushes on a relatively flat trail I almost start getting into a rhythm, despite the terrible footing.
First lava flow crossing. These things are pretty incredible. It's swath of death and destruction where lava flowed down the volcano and all the way to the lake tens if not hundreds of years ago. It's just a path of black sand and volcanic rocks in the middle of a lush forest, about 100-200 ft wide.
Second lava flow crossing, even wider and more impressive than the first one. Wow, I wonder how long it takes for plants to grow over these things. That one was completely and utterly devoid of life after how many years? I don't know. And the area gets a ton of rainfall and all that, and there is lush forest or shrubs all around it, so seeds are not the problem either.
And then the terrain goes mad. A relatively flat, well-defined trail with bad footing turns into a wildly forking, uphill beast with just as terrible footing. Shit, getting drunk last night wasn't so good for the run. I'm short of breath and my muscles feel stiff, even after 45 minutes of running. I can't get into my rhythm and have to walk many of the uphills. That, and they don't believe in switchbacks here, so it goes straight up, but is still all sandy and pebbly. So it's one step forward, 3/4 of a step slide back. Also I keep hoping that I'm taking the right branch of the trail. I mean, they all go up, and I know I'm roughly supposed to go around the volcano. Finding my way back is going to be a bitch.
I trudge my way up, mechanically fighting off the bugs, and actually see some people in the distance. They seem to be on a better defined trail, so I make my way over there (turns out they all lead to roughly the same place eventually). The landscape here gets really interesting. It's now lots of rolling mounds with mini-gullies and canyons in them, all appear to be remnants of ancient lava flows, and are sparsely covered by hardy plants. It's almost like the muscles of some beast, all woven together. These are essentially foothills leading up to the volcano itself, and the trail will go on top of them, along the volcano.
Oh and what a view from there. Lago Dos Santos (Lake of Two Saints) opens up with bright blue, clear water, surrounded by lush forest covered mountains. Unbelievable. Majestic. Totally worth the nasty climb and the bugs.
I finally catch up to the people - they turn out to be a guy from Chicago, Jon, teaching English in Santiago and his Chilean girlfriend. We chit chat a bit - there is a crazy sense of camaraderie, finding other human beings on the Path of Desolation. Daniella talks way too fast for me to understand. Chileans. Part of me wants to hike with them and talk more and get to know them. So we walk together for a bit, covering a few uphills. But as the trail flattens out... I can't help myself but run on. "Open road is my cue," I say and get on my way.
Oh and around this time the bugs finally leave me alone, probably deterred by the altitude and lack of success. So I actually get into some trail running!!!
In a little bit I pass a tough Chilean grandma all by herself. I walk and chat with her for a bit barely understanding her Spanish, and run on.
It's just me and a flat open path. The towering glacier-topped volcano, shrouded in clouds, is on my left while another, old, broken and jagged volcano, also covered in snow is on my right, with some forest covered mountains in between. I pick up the pace, screaming "Path of Desolation, here I come!" as loud as I can with my sore throat. WOOOOO!
It actually gets cold, so I stop and put my long sleeve back on.
Finally I see a hut, a refugio for folks who may want to camp or need a place to weather the night. I run past it, and the trail now starts heading downhill into a forest. Not so desolate anymore. And, FUCK, the bugs are back with a vengeance. Downhill goes pretty fast, and soon I find myself at another, much more built up refugio, and keep on what looks to be a fire road. I don't know if that's the right place, but I couldn't see where else to go.
Running on fire roads = less exciting.
I hear a machine rumbling in the distance. A bulldozer. WTF??? Alright, I better turn back. In retrospect, I think I should have turned by the second refugio. Oh well, I went far enough. It's funny how in this park they don't seem to believe in through-trails. All the trails, including this one, are just one-way and isolated. They don't connect with other trails. You made it all the way through, turn around and go back.
So I head back. I thought I was in rhythm, but running back uphill quickly dispels that notion. I take lots of walking breaks and eat another Clif bar. Yeah, I really just could not get into my running groove. That feeling of happiness that I could run like this forever.
The bugs still after me. When I get particularly mad at them, I stop and don't move. When one gets close, slows down, and tires to land me, I smack it straight down as hard as I can, and while it's disoriented on the ground, stomp on it and rub it in. Piece of shit, take that! Of course his buddies appear to replace him, so it's no use, but is sure satisfying.
I run out of water about 1/4 of the way back. Great. At least it's mostly downhill, and I can always slow down to a walk. I really need that gallon-size Camelbak. I hope they exist. (I just checked and they do! 3L capacity and room to put more water bottles
. I guess I know what I'll be buying before the next big run - I've run out of water enough times). Last bus is at 6:30 and it's just after 3. Plenty of time to go about 8 km.
I see the Chilean grandma again, now walking back. We chat for a bit. She's retired with three kids. She asks what I do, and I tell her I work in investing and we want to invest in Chilean companies and Chile's good economy. She bitterly comments that it doesn't hep most people. Many people here seem to be bitter about not benefiting from the economy's performance. The distribution of income is probably pretty skewed.
Anyway, I leave her behind and get on my way. It's back to the wild terrain of branching trails, now downhill. I see the big lava flow in the distance and know I have to get there. It looks like people have driven their ATVs up and down here as many 'branches' in the trail are just ATV marks. And since the terrain is so fragile, the plants so delicate, trying to grow out of ash, driving an ATV once makes a trail right off. Sad.
Also makes my coming down pretty difficult. I try to stay on what looks to be a major branch of the trail, but wind up finding myself somewhere that doesn't look right - too steep or too much in the brush. I slide down on the loose sand and try not to slip on rocks. Sometimes having to retrace my steps to get onto a better trail branch.
This goes on for a while as I get into thinking about the next major turn on the trail and getting to the lava flow. And then I see myself in slow motion slipping on some loose rocks and spilling on my right side. And I find myself on the ground.
My right calf is in a major Charlie horse. It's stuck hard. My flexed calf muscle actually looks really impressive, thinking back on it. But at that point it was kind of scary that it was just stuck in the flexed position and not letting go. Having run out of water, I'm sure, has contributed to the cramp. I breath deeply and evenly while massaging it, and it lets go. Seems fine. I assess the rest of the damage. Some scrapes on right forearm (close to where I already have my MTB scar), but nothing major - just a series of scratches. A few benign scrapes on the knee and one on my right hip, even through the clothes. Overall, no big deal. Lucky break.
Ain't nothing left to do but keep running, so I do, albeit more carefully.
I make it back to the lava flow AND on the right trail. I somehow wind up running along the lava flow instead of perpendicular to it - I think I didn't see the other trail at first. But I also know that the other way to get back, as marked on the map, is to run towards the lake, and then run along the lake. While I didn't plan to go this way, I already went along far enough, so I decide to keep going. And it's nice and downhill. And running along the lava flow is kinda cool!
It's only 4:12, and I'm within a few kilometers, so making the last bus is no worry. But I do worry about whether running along the lake is going to be user-friendly. Would the shore be smooth and sandy? Or rugged and rocky? If it's too impenetrable, I'd have to double back up the lava flow, uphill. Then time might be a worry, though still probably OK. Distances are much shorter in km. 6 km. is only 4 miles or roughly 1 hour of running. Unless I take another spill and disable myself. But we're not going to think about that.
Oh and I forgot to mention, at this point there are maybe 20-30 bugs chasing me consistently, for miles and miles. While still no bites, the buzzing is now all-encompassing, and the times a bug gets close enough to brush my waving hands or face, more frequent.
I finally get to the lake... look to my right and Que olivio! (What a relief!). I see a smooth sandy beach all along. The huge body of crystal clear water makes me remember how thirsty I am. It's an alpine lake. There are virtually no people (and thus no sewage) and it's so clear, blue, and calling my name. DRINK ME DRINK ME, Alice in Wonderland style.
Fuck it.
I run up, and take a drink out of my cupped hands. DELICIOUS. And a few more. For a second I forgot the bugs were there. SHIT, get up keep running!!!!!!!
There are now no less than 50 bugs behind me. Everytime I look back, I see this buzzing swarm of 3/4" to 1" insects all screaming DINNER DINNER DINNER. Oh God, run fast, keep running.
But the lake is so tasty, ah kneel down and take a sip. Sip and run. Yes, that's my mojo, Sip and Run.
Oh man, I hope I run into a person soon so I can pass off these bugs. I'm terrible. But since I'm running and they're not, the bugs will probably stick to them.
Ah the shore now gets rocky and I still can't see the ranger station/bus stop. And the rocks slow me down, so the bugs can come closer. I normally don't like headwind, but now I pray for it. Headwind blows the bugs back. Tailwind puts the whole swarm in front of my face. No good. I have a few close calls with a bug managing to land on my shoulder or arm. And I keep waving at the back of my neck which seems to be the most vulnerable part (my head is covered by my hat, thankfully).
I get over the rocky part to the next bend. Still no people inside. Keep pushing. Can't slow down. Bugs will eat me. Another rocky part. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
Oh YES, I see bright blue figure of a person on the beach behind this bend. Finally! Made it! And the going gets easy, the beach gets sandy. OK, no more sipping, too close to civilization.
I pass my first person and pass a few bugs off - nice!
Finally I start seeing little boats ferrying people around the lake - made it!
"Dmitriy!" - Jon and Daniella got back 20 minutes before me. (They didn't refill their water bottle and were tired, so turned back soon after I left them.) Sweet! They give me water. YES! And sunscreen! (Following my Argentina burning experience, I put the sunscreen out to pack... and forgot it).
We have a great time chatting while waiting for the bus and continuing on the bus, with Jon teaching me the intricacies of Chilean Spanish (which apparently is the most heavily accented, slangish and changed Spanish), with the highlight being me repeating Paco Ciulado (Fucking Cop) very loudly with a Carabinero on the bus.
And no bites, SUCKAS.
While we didn't quite get to the rugged wilderness of Patagonia proper - that was rather far South to go and Jessie has a bad ankle, limiting our abilities to trek - we wound up on the Southern edge of Lake Country, a very pretty region with, you guess it, enormous, magnificent lakes, as well as lush forest covered mountains, and breathtaking volcanoes everywhere you look.
We wound up crashing at a tourist town called Puerto Varas, on the Llanquihue (yan-kee-wue) Lake, the 3rd largest lake in South America, surrounded by rugged rivers, forests, and BIG-ASS VOLCANOES! (Not to mention pastoral German countryside in the other direction).
The most prominent one, Volcan Osorno, towers over the opposite side of the lake and is a perfect snow-capped cone. I got a list of trails in the tourist office and the distances looked disappointingly short. 500m. 2 km. 6 km. 4 km. Oh there is one, 12 km. "Paso Desolacion" I guess that's my guy!
Parque Nacional Vicente Perez Rosales is about 70 km from the town, so after a 1 hour long bus ride, I'm there. First thing after getting off the bus, I'm already courted by a few Vichus (spelling), which are these nasty horse flies with females reaching over 1 inch in length. Click on the link for a picture of the bloodsuckers. Apparently they only appear for 2-3 weeks during the summer, and we happened to pick that time to come. Go figure. They're big, loud, and black with some red. The bites are supposed to hurt like hell. But they're also slow and due to being loud, relatively easy to ward off. The problem is, the fuckers are persistent, as I found out.
So at any rate, I'm wandering around looking for the start of the trail, already waving my arms and my hat like an idiot trying to ward off a few of the buzzing vampires.
I sign in with the forest rangers, pick up a map, find the trail and start running. About time! The bugs chasing after me. Good thing is when I'm running they have virtually no chance to land, being big, relatively slow and bulky.
The trail sucks. It's all dark grey sand, volcanic ash and loose rocks. Lots of give, hard to get traction and good power. The bugs are really annoying too. Even though they don't really land on me, but the constant buzzing and the worry. And occasionally one flies to close to my ear or face and I instinctively brush it off, but that messes up the running rhythm. It's also getting really hot - I'm wearing my lime green Nike technical and the polyester long sleeve on top of it. And I'm wearing zip-off pants I bought for $40 for the Volcano climb.
Keep running or take stuff off?
I'd like to take stuff off, but that means dealing with the freaking bugs while stationary. But running and wearing all that stuff, I'll dehydrate way too quickly and run out of water. Ah shit, I guess I gotta stop. I take off my hat and start waving at the bugs while frantically losing clothes. Zipping off the bottoms of my pants, one of the zippers breaks. The thing's like made of plastic. Piece of shit. Wasn't worth the $40 at all. Last time I buy no-brand outdoor gear.
Finally I'm cooler and off on my way. Running through trees and bushes on a relatively flat trail I almost start getting into a rhythm, despite the terrible footing.
First lava flow crossing. These things are pretty incredible. It's swath of death and destruction where lava flowed down the volcano and all the way to the lake tens if not hundreds of years ago. It's just a path of black sand and volcanic rocks in the middle of a lush forest, about 100-200 ft wide.
Second lava flow crossing, even wider and more impressive than the first one. Wow, I wonder how long it takes for plants to grow over these things. That one was completely and utterly devoid of life after how many years? I don't know. And the area gets a ton of rainfall and all that, and there is lush forest or shrubs all around it, so seeds are not the problem either.
And then the terrain goes mad. A relatively flat, well-defined trail with bad footing turns into a wildly forking, uphill beast with just as terrible footing. Shit, getting drunk last night wasn't so good for the run. I'm short of breath and my muscles feel stiff, even after 45 minutes of running. I can't get into my rhythm and have to walk many of the uphills. That, and they don't believe in switchbacks here, so it goes straight up, but is still all sandy and pebbly. So it's one step forward, 3/4 of a step slide back. Also I keep hoping that I'm taking the right branch of the trail. I mean, they all go up, and I know I'm roughly supposed to go around the volcano. Finding my way back is going to be a bitch.
I trudge my way up, mechanically fighting off the bugs, and actually see some people in the distance. They seem to be on a better defined trail, so I make my way over there (turns out they all lead to roughly the same place eventually). The landscape here gets really interesting. It's now lots of rolling mounds with mini-gullies and canyons in them, all appear to be remnants of ancient lava flows, and are sparsely covered by hardy plants. It's almost like the muscles of some beast, all woven together. These are essentially foothills leading up to the volcano itself, and the trail will go on top of them, along the volcano.
Oh and what a view from there. Lago Dos Santos (Lake of Two Saints) opens up with bright blue, clear water, surrounded by lush forest covered mountains. Unbelievable. Majestic. Totally worth the nasty climb and the bugs.
I finally catch up to the people - they turn out to be a guy from Chicago, Jon, teaching English in Santiago and his Chilean girlfriend. We chit chat a bit - there is a crazy sense of camaraderie, finding other human beings on the Path of Desolation. Daniella talks way too fast for me to understand. Chileans. Part of me wants to hike with them and talk more and get to know them. So we walk together for a bit, covering a few uphills. But as the trail flattens out... I can't help myself but run on. "Open road is my cue," I say and get on my way.
Oh and around this time the bugs finally leave me alone, probably deterred by the altitude and lack of success. So I actually get into some trail running!!!
In a little bit I pass a tough Chilean grandma all by herself. I walk and chat with her for a bit barely understanding her Spanish, and run on.
It's just me and a flat open path. The towering glacier-topped volcano, shrouded in clouds, is on my left while another, old, broken and jagged volcano, also covered in snow is on my right, with some forest covered mountains in between. I pick up the pace, screaming "Path of Desolation, here I come!" as loud as I can with my sore throat. WOOOOO!
It actually gets cold, so I stop and put my long sleeve back on.
Finally I see a hut, a refugio for folks who may want to camp or need a place to weather the night. I run past it, and the trail now starts heading downhill into a forest. Not so desolate anymore. And, FUCK, the bugs are back with a vengeance. Downhill goes pretty fast, and soon I find myself at another, much more built up refugio, and keep on what looks to be a fire road. I don't know if that's the right place, but I couldn't see where else to go.
Running on fire roads = less exciting.
I hear a machine rumbling in the distance. A bulldozer. WTF??? Alright, I better turn back. In retrospect, I think I should have turned by the second refugio. Oh well, I went far enough. It's funny how in this park they don't seem to believe in through-trails. All the trails, including this one, are just one-way and isolated. They don't connect with other trails. You made it all the way through, turn around and go back.
So I head back. I thought I was in rhythm, but running back uphill quickly dispels that notion. I take lots of walking breaks and eat another Clif bar. Yeah, I really just could not get into my running groove. That feeling of happiness that I could run like this forever.
The bugs still after me. When I get particularly mad at them, I stop and don't move. When one gets close, slows down, and tires to land me, I smack it straight down as hard as I can, and while it's disoriented on the ground, stomp on it and rub it in. Piece of shit, take that! Of course his buddies appear to replace him, so it's no use, but is sure satisfying.
I run out of water about 1/4 of the way back. Great. At least it's mostly downhill, and I can always slow down to a walk. I really need that gallon-size Camelbak. I hope they exist. (I just checked and they do! 3L capacity and room to put more water bottles
. I guess I know what I'll be buying before the next big run - I've run out of water enough times). Last bus is at 6:30 and it's just after 3. Plenty of time to go about 8 km. I see the Chilean grandma again, now walking back. We chat for a bit. She's retired with three kids. She asks what I do, and I tell her I work in investing and we want to invest in Chilean companies and Chile's good economy. She bitterly comments that it doesn't hep most people. Many people here seem to be bitter about not benefiting from the economy's performance. The distribution of income is probably pretty skewed.
Anyway, I leave her behind and get on my way. It's back to the wild terrain of branching trails, now downhill. I see the big lava flow in the distance and know I have to get there. It looks like people have driven their ATVs up and down here as many 'branches' in the trail are just ATV marks. And since the terrain is so fragile, the plants so delicate, trying to grow out of ash, driving an ATV once makes a trail right off. Sad.
Also makes my coming down pretty difficult. I try to stay on what looks to be a major branch of the trail, but wind up finding myself somewhere that doesn't look right - too steep or too much in the brush. I slide down on the loose sand and try not to slip on rocks. Sometimes having to retrace my steps to get onto a better trail branch.
This goes on for a while as I get into thinking about the next major turn on the trail and getting to the lava flow. And then I see myself in slow motion slipping on some loose rocks and spilling on my right side. And I find myself on the ground.
My right calf is in a major Charlie horse. It's stuck hard. My flexed calf muscle actually looks really impressive, thinking back on it. But at that point it was kind of scary that it was just stuck in the flexed position and not letting go. Having run out of water, I'm sure, has contributed to the cramp. I breath deeply and evenly while massaging it, and it lets go. Seems fine. I assess the rest of the damage. Some scrapes on right forearm (close to where I already have my MTB scar), but nothing major - just a series of scratches. A few benign scrapes on the knee and one on my right hip, even through the clothes. Overall, no big deal. Lucky break.
Ain't nothing left to do but keep running, so I do, albeit more carefully.
I make it back to the lava flow AND on the right trail. I somehow wind up running along the lava flow instead of perpendicular to it - I think I didn't see the other trail at first. But I also know that the other way to get back, as marked on the map, is to run towards the lake, and then run along the lake. While I didn't plan to go this way, I already went along far enough, so I decide to keep going. And it's nice and downhill. And running along the lava flow is kinda cool!
It's only 4:12, and I'm within a few kilometers, so making the last bus is no worry. But I do worry about whether running along the lake is going to be user-friendly. Would the shore be smooth and sandy? Or rugged and rocky? If it's too impenetrable, I'd have to double back up the lava flow, uphill. Then time might be a worry, though still probably OK. Distances are much shorter in km. 6 km. is only 4 miles or roughly 1 hour of running. Unless I take another spill and disable myself. But we're not going to think about that.
Oh and I forgot to mention, at this point there are maybe 20-30 bugs chasing me consistently, for miles and miles. While still no bites, the buzzing is now all-encompassing, and the times a bug gets close enough to brush my waving hands or face, more frequent.
I finally get to the lake... look to my right and Que olivio! (What a relief!). I see a smooth sandy beach all along. The huge body of crystal clear water makes me remember how thirsty I am. It's an alpine lake. There are virtually no people (and thus no sewage) and it's so clear, blue, and calling my name. DRINK ME DRINK ME, Alice in Wonderland style.
Fuck it.
I run up, and take a drink out of my cupped hands. DELICIOUS. And a few more. For a second I forgot the bugs were there. SHIT, get up keep running!!!!!!!
There are now no less than 50 bugs behind me. Everytime I look back, I see this buzzing swarm of 3/4" to 1" insects all screaming DINNER DINNER DINNER. Oh God, run fast, keep running.
But the lake is so tasty, ah kneel down and take a sip. Sip and run. Yes, that's my mojo, Sip and Run.
Oh man, I hope I run into a person soon so I can pass off these bugs. I'm terrible. But since I'm running and they're not, the bugs will probably stick to them.
Ah the shore now gets rocky and I still can't see the ranger station/bus stop. And the rocks slow me down, so the bugs can come closer. I normally don't like headwind, but now I pray for it. Headwind blows the bugs back. Tailwind puts the whole swarm in front of my face. No good. I have a few close calls with a bug managing to land on my shoulder or arm. And I keep waving at the back of my neck which seems to be the most vulnerable part (my head is covered by my hat, thankfully).
I get over the rocky part to the next bend. Still no people inside. Keep pushing. Can't slow down. Bugs will eat me. Another rocky part. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
Oh YES, I see bright blue figure of a person on the beach behind this bend. Finally! Made it! And the going gets easy, the beach gets sandy. OK, no more sipping, too close to civilization.
I pass my first person and pass a few bugs off - nice!
Finally I start seeing little boats ferrying people around the lake - made it!
"Dmitriy!" - Jon and Daniella got back 20 minutes before me. (They didn't refill their water bottle and were tired, so turned back soon after I left them.) Sweet! They give me water. YES! And sunscreen! (Following my Argentina burning experience, I put the sunscreen out to pack... and forgot it).
We have a great time chatting while waiting for the bus and continuing on the bus, with Jon teaching me the intricacies of Chilean Spanish (which apparently is the most heavily accented, slangish and changed Spanish), with the highlight being me repeating Paco Ciulado (Fucking Cop) very loudly with a Carabinero on the bus.
And no bites, SUCKAS.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Experimentation In Time And Space
(from letter to sarah)
oh but the real thing i want to tell you about tomorrow is my run. after surfing, after dinner (we had shark prepared by the hostel owner), i went for a run, along the beach, in complete darkness, with no light. how cool is that?!?!?! i just walked over from the hostel to the beach without anything at all (i figure if i get mugged i got nothing) - 1 minute walk - hid my sandals and just ran. i was running towards Punto De Lobos - a famous surf spot known for having 40 foot waves (it had about 15-20 footers when we were there) - about 6K one way. but the crazy thing was that it was overcast, so the only thing i could see was a very vague white line of the foam of surf to my left and a very vague lighter tone (compared to the dark wet sand) outline of the shore/beach to my right. i couldn't really see where i was stepping. and i just took off and ran. i love running along the beach barefoot. it was a really strange feeling - running without being able to see. because in front of me it all looked the same. a little bit of white to the left. a little bit of beige to the right. and pitch black everywhere else. it was so abstract. i was running and not getting anywhere at all. it's like time stopped and i was running in a dream. in some dark abstract cavern where there is no time or distance. my only anchor to reality were the town lights, now far behind me. at some points i even closed my eyes and just ran. i mean it didn't make any difference. i could feel the sand under me - so if the sand is getting a bit wetter and softer, i need to veer more right. if it's getting softer and dryer, i need to veer more left. so i just ran by feel with my eyes closed. it was a bit hard to keep balance at first, but then i got the hang of it. it's funny running in the dark- nothing has a 3D shape. it's all batches of color in 2D. so there was a portion where i ran and it looked to my right like the sand looked a little bit lighter, and i wanted to step into it, but when i did, i found it it was actually a verticall wall of sand. i couldn't see that it was such - i just saw the color - and no shape. i couldn't believe it really was there, so i had to touch it several times to convince myself that this patch of lighter sand on my light was vertical. i was worried about my bare feet and tried to watch under me. but all i stepped onto was an occasional thing of kelp, but other than that it was clear and sandy. for a while i kept thinking there is lots of trash, but later i figured out that most of the white things that looked like trash was simply foam left over from the last wave. it took me several times of approaching it and carefully touch it to really believe it. i haven't run for almost a week, so it felt good really quickly and my endorphins kicked in and i was just feeling happy and free and exhilarated at the whole sensory experience, or lack of senses experience. in the craziness and abstractness of it, just running somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Chile to no particular destination, suspended in time and space. so i figure i would keep going until it was easy to find my way in the darkness. after running for i don't know how long, i found myself running on a slightly wet sand and suddenly a wave came in and covered me up to the knees! in the darkness i couldn't tell that i swerved a bit to the left then i needed to be. at that point a voice in my head said "ok, that's enough", but something else in me, something unspoken, drew me to go on forward. then i hit a big-ass puddle of sea water that wasn't flowing back to the ocean. so again the voice said "that's enough, turn back", but i kept going becaue it was a shallow puddle and something drew me further, allured me, the darkness, the unkown. so i kept going. finally there were more puddles and streams, and the shore to my right got steep and at that point i decided that navigating in the dark by feel was going to be too much. also i hit the first rock underneath my feet, trying to cross another puddle, and stumbled my way around it, almost falling in the water. and the number of shells was increasing too, which, i figured, sooner or later will get my bare feet in trouble. so i turned back. it was a bit difficult to navigate my way back to the surf as i got away from it trying to navigate the puddles, but it was also difficult NOT to find the surft. i just walked towards the sound. and finally i was running towards the city lights. running towards SOMETHING made the time go way faster. it's really funny - the relationship between time and visual stimuli. i've never thought about it before, but i think there is a huge relationship. i don't think i was faster going back, but it felt way faster. i could just watch the lights get bigger and bigger. though the darkness still played tricks with my perception of 3D. at times i wanted to readjust to run a bit closer to the water - 1 step to my right and WOOOOH - there was actually a 1-2 foot drop there. eventually i was back and took a LONG HOT shower to get real warm and help clear my lungs. oh yeah, and i wrote this whole thing as 1 paragraph inspired by the Original Scroll style of On The Road.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
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!!!
I draw several conclusions from this experience.
- 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) Look harder for sunscreen, even if that means waking up your roommate!
- 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) 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).
Sunday, December 19, 2010
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.
Friday, December 17, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
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