Los Alamos

If you have been watching the national news, you already know about the Los Conchas fire burning near Los Alamos. Last summer, I had the opportunity to visit the area when my brother, AKA- Chris, the computer genius, spent his second summer as a student intern. He's scheduled to become a conditional-intern-hire starting mid-July...

Here are my blogs from the trip:
Up With the Sun
Jemez Mountains
Bandelier National Monument

....we never knew it would be conditional on when the town and LANL re-open.

To see the videos of a smokey town and actually recognize the landmarks and names in the national news, it's scary to think about. For the people that had to leave town, hoping their homes would be there when they returned. For the natural beauty surrounding the area, scarring the landscape. For the fact that it has burned 20,000 acres each day it has been going. For the sensitive nuclear materials they have stored there. Officials saying that everything is secure doesn't bring much comfort. Nature happens. What scares me the most is that this isn't the first time. In 2001, they had another similar incident and weren't quite as prepared as they are now.

Chris, you're not allowed to move there. Come live here where it's really really wet. No fires here.

My thoughts and prayers go out to the people of Los Alamos and all those fighting to save the town and LANL. God, keep our nukes safe, too.

Redwood Creek and Tall Trees

My day began with a breakfast date at a coffee shop on Matt's bike ride home. Two of his shifts were changed to 12 hrs to cover a shortage of forecasters because one went to a forest fire in New Mexico.

Breakfast with the Hubby. He was finishing up a midnight shift and I was
headed out for a hike. This was pretty much the only time we saw each other that day.

I met up with Shaina, another weather wife, on her day off. We decided to explore a little bit of Redwood National Park. Our hike took us to Tall Trees Grove and the Redwood Creek Trail. It was a lot of driving for just a day hike, but that's alright. It was fun to get out with someone different for a change (I still love hiking with you though, Honey!). I got to hear about all the wacky people she meets through her job and we had a great time. The hike was wet, the only rainy day of June (and a new daily rainfall record to boot!).

Buck and the butt of a doe. There's a small spotty fawn in there, but you can't see her at all.

Snail.

Tall Trees Grove

Really slippery bridge.

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it was something along the lines of this : it'll be just like the other redwood parks I've been to. But it wasn't. Tall Trees Grove doesn't hold any of the tallest trees. The interesting thing was the understory. Here, the understory was completely covered in fern. Humboldt Redwoods SP groves are carpeted in clover. This park was heavily logged in the 1960's, so a lot of the old growth is from before the park's expansion or in places that the hillside is too steep, therefore too difficult to log. The park allowed logging crews to remove the downed logs when logging was officially banned. Logging crews performed their own "smash and grab" robber maneuver and clear cut anything they could get their hands on. Looking at a map that shows the old growth vs. new forest, it's easy to the large patches of missing old growth. That's sad, but I'm glad that logging is over now.

The Redwood Creek Trail was amazing and as a runner, I drooled over the possibility of returning for a run. The only problem is, Redwood Creek trailhead experiences daily break-ins, so it requires another 30 min drive (on top of the hour it took me to get to the park) to the opposite end at Tall Trees. *sigh*

Funky Ferndale

Immediately following the return from our trip, a dark cloud parked itself directly overhead. I had no motivation to write, no motivation to run. I had stomachaches, headaches, and just general fatigue. Periodically this happens to me, and the clouds dissipate. Today's run was just what I needed to relieve myself from it all.

We parked behind this car in a residential neighborhood.

Matt and I decided to explore Russ Park in Ferndale, two towns to the south. Victorian homes clustered in a mass expanse of dairy farmland, I wondered why we were going to run in the woods rather than past all the brightly colored homes. It is summer, that brief window of time that the trails aren't muddy and the roads that access them are passable. Winter is for road running, I reminded myself, as we headed into the forest.

With over 600 mi on his previous pair, Matt models his brand spankin' new Cascadia trail shoes.

As our first trip to Russ Park, we weren't sure what kinds of trails we would find, or how much distance there was to cover, but we knew one thing : all trails went up. We began our climb on a fairly wide trail. I didn't notice the humidity until we were a few minutes into the run, when I broke into a drenching sweat.

Suddenly, we heard a motor. A remote controlled toy monster truck descended the trail up ahead. It ran into my leg. I scanned the area for its master. Just as Matt and I commented on how odd it was to find that, a young boy and his grandmother appeared. "Oh no, we got caught again with wheels on the trail," she joked to him as they passed. The trail was difficult to run with all the narrow passageways through the dense foliage.

The wide part of the trail.

The No Wheels (bikes or otherwise) rule was a good one. We made several loops, covering nearly every trail in the park. Some unmarked trails continued on further, but we discovered lots of poison oak and decided to continue on a different direction.

Overlook at the top of one of the loops.

One of the downhill sections was on a steep hill and partly washed out, partly covered in exposed tree roots. I got frustrated by the fact that the trail was too treacherous to run downhill. Eventually, that trail spit us out onto another, wider one, for our next climb.

Not-so-wide runnable spot. The spots where I thought it was too dangerous were this
narrow and really rutted. It was almost impossible to see what was underfoot a few paces ahead.

The run included two loops on different trails, going up and down and up again. When we finally reached a different trail head, we were surprised it lead out so quickly. That was enough.

Ferndale is pretty, no?

VERDICT : Russ Park Trails : picking and choosing only the runnable trails, it amounts to about one 2 mile loop. A return trip would be good for hilly runs, but nothing of substantial distance.

Still a fun run regardless. It completely lifted my spirits again and reminded me that as an off-season run, it was fun to just ignore time and pace and go for it.

Total distance came to something like six miles (we ran from town to the park, about one mile RT).

The rest of the visit with Austin, we explored the Carmel Mission and the Monterey Bay Aquarium. It was fun to be touristy. Matt and I went for a nice run while we were in Monterey too. It was nice to run on a proper bike path rather than streets. Now that I'm going to a pretty much every other day running schedule, I've found my knee happier as well as my overall pace. Everything off the trails has been sub-9:00/mi. EVERYTHING. Even windy, hilly days.

We drove Hwy 1 north from Monterey to Half Moon Bay, just to escape the heat a little longer. Our car doesn't have air conditioning and with temps soaring into the 90s, the coast sounded great. Santa Cruz was like the California straight from movies. Surfers and beach goers, backpackers, etc. We had lunch at the Natural Bridges Beach and pressed on. I was happy to leave.

That night, we stopped in Petaluma to break up the day. We went for a really hot run, about 85F by 10 am, it felt slow, but wasn't too bad. Just suuuper sweaty for this girl. I was happy to get 5.5 mi out of myself considering my lack of heat tolerance. To cope with the heat, we stopped for ice cream twice and lunch in an air conditioned Safeway. It took forever to get out of the heat, which by 5pm had reached 92F in Ukiah. We were soooo happy to finally hit the Redwoods and the coastal clouds. Stratus and fog. HORRAYYY!

What a fantastic vacation. :)

Next Race : Fourth of July Arcata Bottoms 5K. No training. Just gonna see what I can squeeze out of myself speed-wise. I can probably PR if the course is forgiving enough. I haven't run it at all, so we will see. Hubby is going to try for sub-20:00.

Monterey to Big Sur

Words cannot do this drive justice. We drove down to Big Sur under hazy skies. The fog got so thick at some parts that we could hardly see the cars ahead of us. Then the return trip was perfectly clear. An entirely different experience driving down and driving back.

Point Pinos Lighthouse, California's Oldest, Pacific Grove, CA.

Bixby Bridge, Big Sur, CA.

Point Sur coastguard station.

Random chick on the beach.

Our fabulous host, Austin.

San Fran to Monterey

Right after our race and shower,we headed to Monterey. Since our friend Austin wouldn't be out of work until 10pm (another one of those darn shift working weathermen), we had lots of time to make the three hour drive to his place.

We carefully charted out a course that would take us past REI, IKEA, and Dairy Queen. Coming home with tons of fun stuff, we enjoyed the shopping thoroughly. :) At the last minute, we decided to take a more scenic route, Highway 9 through to Santa Cruz rather than the freeway. It doesn't look as wiggly on the map, but Matt had to drive about 40mph the whole way because of the turns. We saw the most amazing sunset though, so it was worth it.

Fourth

Four years ago today, I married my college running buddy. Standing at the altar, I never imagined that I could possibly love this man more than I did that day. I was wrong. *sigh* I feel like my life is perfect :) (now if only Blogger would let me put my photos right side up....)

Happy Anniversary, Honey!! :)

Pacifica Trail 30K

"Don't forget your water and sunscreen," a voice over the loud-speaker rang out at the starting line. "Oh, it's probably too late for sunscreen, hope everybody is wearing some!"

Clean and energetic at the start line.

A few hundred people clustered around a small single-track trail leading into thick forest. I don't remember what type of noise started the race, but I do remember the mass of twisted runners weaving down the trail. It was crowded and unpleasant and I just tried to get ahead of some of the walkers. Suddenly the trail narrowed even further and we began a very steep 3-mile climb to the top of North Peak. Most of the first mile was barely above a walking pace. With nowhere to possibly pass anyone, a single person easily caused a 30-person pile up behind her. Some people were conscientious enough to notice the line behind them and moved to the side to allow passing, some were not. As we climbed higher and higher through the Eucalyptus trees, I figured that I'd be walking a bunch of the course anyways, so who cares if I walk a little now?

About to melt in the 70F sunshine.

Eventually, the trees gave way to thick bushes, our path a narrow strip of clear land. The bushes grew smaller as we climbed higher and higher, and suddenly the Pacific Ocean emerged, glistening in the sunshine.

Still climbing.....

Menacing stratus lurking offshore never came upon us.

Drenched in sweat, I posed for a picture (ie-caught my breath) with the beautiful scenery. About 2 miles in (and up), the dirt path turned to rocks. It was almost impossible to run parts of the washed out trail. One small tumble would send me sailing downhill. The top of North Peak was uneventful, nothing but an arrow sign indicating a turn-around. After all that walking, the downhill from miles 4-7 were a welcomed change, not only to make up some time, but also a break from all that sweating.

The course returned back the way it came, and luckily I was far back enough in the pack that I didn't have to step aside much for passing traffic. We quickly caught up to a woman running in minimalist shoes. "I'm not as fast, downhills are killer for me," she said as we passed her. I knew what the pounding was doing through my padded running shoes, I couldn't imagine doing it in anything less. We returned to the starting area near mile 8 and the lone aid station. I had packed my own food and water, so I just grabbed a handful of whatever candy looked the tastiest.

Then Matt and I began our first loop of two, up the side of a different (shorter) mountain. The 50K went up North Peak twice (glad that's not what I signed up for!). The crowd had thinned considerably by the time we climbed the shorter mountain. Most people were alternating walking and running. The ridge was exposed, a bright, scorching sun beating down on us with nowhere to hide. At 70F, it was much too hot for this kind of effort. I sucked down lots of my electrolyte water. Up and up and up we went, passing people along the way. When the trail finally turned downhill, it was awful. I was so looking forward to cruising, but the once packed dirt trail had a large rut down the middle, nearly the width of the trail. I'd have to walk most of it carefully or risk twisting my ankle.

At the bottom, a quick stretch of flat, wide trail, let Matt and I pass a few really slow people we got stuck behind. Then we climbed another mountain. This one went higher. Every time I thought the trail dipped out of sight, I thought it was going back down. Usually it was another switch-back headed in the opposite direction.

Downhill? Oh no, just another switch-back.

By the start of the second loop, my energy level had been worn down enough that I was just happy to be moving at a stead shuffle pace instead of trying to run and then having to walk again. The 21K race had only one loop on this course, so most of the people left out there with us and doing the second loop were the 30K ones. And there weren't many of us. "Just keep running, just keep running", I chanted. Our strategy turned to just moving forward. Up up up up up up about another million feet, and at mile 16 we hit the long, swift downhill to the finish. After nearly half an hour without seeing any other runners, we came upon one woman. She looked worried and confused. "I'm so glad to see you guys!! I thought I had taken a wrong turn, I haven't seen anyone in over an hour!!," she exclaimed as a smile immediately formed upon her face. The last few miles whizzed by and we descended into another Eucalyptus forest at an 8:00/mi. It smelled amazing and effortless at our speedy downhill cruising pace. Half a mile from the finish, we hit level ground again. My legs instantly became heavier. I picked up the speed anyways. It was hard to keep motivated, but the finish was just around the corner. On the paved bike trail, I hit a utility hole and rolled my left ankle hard. I heard a popping noise and immediately thought I had broken my ankle. After a few really painful hobbling steps, I could tell it wasn't broken. But it sure hurt a lot. Matt and I hit the finish line in 3:52.57. I was so worried about my ankle that I forgot to stop my watch at the finish. Luckily Matt had. I immediately pulled off my sock and shoe and examined my leg. Completely dirty from dust collecting on my sweaty body, the leg looked fine. My ankles sometimes make a popping sound for no reason, so that must have been the sound I heard.

Sexy ankle dirt lines. Matt's showed up better than mine since he's got fair skin.

Without pause, we headed for the car. We had to make it back to our hotel for a shower. The hotel had generously granted our 2pm check-out time and we didn't want to push our luck any further by leaving after that. Upon our arrival at the hotel, the desk clerk saw our sweaty, dirty selves and chuckled. No wonder we wanted that late check-out. :)

Stretching before the drive back to our hotel.

That sweatband tan line just gets better and better, doesn't it?

The Math :

3:52.57
12:29/mi pace
22/45 finishers in the 30K race
12/22 women


11,830 ft. of elevation change (according to race website, Garmy thought we were out in the ocean?? wtf? so no elevation profile)

Something is Working!

In the last few weeks, my IT band attacked. Not as bad as the bout I had in January, but it forced me to immediately address what had changed. I quizzed Matt on my habits. I thought that training on trails would help with the problem. After actually experiencing the local trails and their slanted surfaces, I knew that they wouldn't do much, since for me, it's all about the slant. I had also quit my long run ice bath ritual (we have a love-hate relationship).

Saturday, after an 11-mile muddy trail run, I hit the ice bath. The cat put her paws up on the edge of the tub, with a worried look on her face, "Karen, why are you screaming?" They aren't much fun, but I woke up the next day with no knee pain.

Today I did the first of my "form" runs. Ignoring pace, I went for an eight mile run, continuously thinking about how my foot landed and reminding myself to run tall. And let me tell you, it worked. I don't know if it was me focusing on form or if remembering to move my heel lift (Hurty Knee is on the leg that is 1/2" longer) to those shoes. Every two miles, I hit the lap button to catch my splits. Every time my knee started aching, I'd shorten my stride and focus on running upright. It made me run faster and easier. By the end of the run, I was pushing to remember all those things, but it paid off. Check this out :



I'm seeing some pretty darn even splits!

I also found a new way to deep tissue massage my glutes on the foam roller. Then I had hubby roll my IT hot spot until I screamed for him to stop. I continued focusing on strengthening my hips, as I have done since becoming a runner.

Something worked. And it rocks.

Eight miles and out just for 1:09 + 100% cloudy day + SPF 15 face lotion = sweatband tan lines? what?

Cancer Survivor

Usually, I'm excited when my copy of Runner's World comes in the mail. Usually, I toss the other mail aside and plop down on the couch to dive in. Three days ago, mine came in the mail, complete with a 20-page section on cancer survivors and their running..blah blah blah. I was afraid to read it, afraid to free feelings that I've neatly packed away in a tiny box in my memory. And that's exactly what happened. Some stories triggered memories in of my own personal experience.

But another emotion bubbled to the surface : anger. The people that were able to run through their treatments were labeled as heroic warriors. It's great that some people could run through treatment, but unfortunately, I was not one of them. My treatments were so aggressive that it was absolutely impossible to keep running. Eventually, I had to take breaks during my 5-min shower because I was too weak.

As one part of Lance Armstrong's interview stated, "All cancers are different. People just don't understand that." Some patients have surgery and they're done. Some patients endure the whole treatment trifecta: surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy. I believe that surviving the diagnosis, the first time you realize that you could DIE from this, and the moment you finally hear you're free; gives all of us the right to be called survivors. That in no way makes our experiences comparable. It is common for childhood cancer patients to endure much more rigorous treatments, just because their body is more resilient and can handle aggressive treatments. I don't like how there's one name for such varying experiences.

One article was similar to how I feel about being a survivor : being normal again. Having normal aches and pains again. But some people like to flaunt the fact that they're a survivor, telling anyone and everyone about their experiences. I feel like in order to leave it behind, I have to, in some way, forget it's there. Some of my closest friends don't know that I endured 11-months of hell, and those that do have only been offered the Cliff Notes version. I usually release it on a need-to-know basis. I don't like to have people feel sorry for me or attention related to it. I only mention it on this blog when I talk about my fear of falling and my small victories in piano playing. Sometimes I think it's because I've repressed it so well that talking about it will reduce me to a blubbering mess. Sometimes it's because, in a weird way, I'm happy that I went through it, because it's made me so much stronger than I ever thought I could be. Sometimes I know it's because words will never be able to convey my story to its full extent.

What I will offer to you are the pages of my scrap book from that year. There are only two and sugar-coated in just the happier parts :

~ My Port-A-Cath, the central line that was implanted to administer the treatments.
~ Part of one of my hospital wristbands. I have enough to wallpaper my bathroom in them.
~ St. Patrick's Day with my best buddy, the pink puke bowl.
~ A weekend at Keith Island with Matt's family. Here I am caught sneaking brownies.
~ Pet therapy with all the little kids. (I was technically a pediatric patient even though I was 20.)
~ My 21st birthday, two days after being released from the hospital for an infection.


~ Visit from Gilbert Brown and Leroy Butler. They told me that boys will be lined up around the block for me because I'm "such a babe". Leroy added that he'd be first in line. This photo always makes me cry.
~ My first race after treatment : Tulsa World Route 66 Half Marathon, one year and six days after I was officially put into remission.


“Tough times never last, but tough people do” - Robert H. Schuller

June Tempo

Tempo and interval runs are awful. I hate them. And with the mileage I keep, just below burnout, there really isn't much room for speedwork. I know I should do it more, but I just like to go at a comfortable pace and see where my legs take me. That's probably why my 5K PR sucks compared to my half marathon.

That said, I looked at my goals for the year and saw :

June 2011 :
Tempo 4mi : 8:00/mi
Tempo 5mi : 8:00/mi

Well, crap. Way to go Karen. Thanks for being ambitious back in JANUARY. *sigh*

So armed with my coffee buzz, iPod, and Garmy, I was out the door. Sailing with the 20mph NNW wind, it was easy to keep myself near a 7:30/mi until mile 3 (and matched my 5K PR time of 23:55 despite the hilliness). The fourth one, into the wind (I'd walk the rest of the out and back route home), reduced me to nothing. Huffing and puffing, that wind blowing down my throat and making me cough, I could barely keep an 8:30. Somehow I managed to barely eek out my 4 miles in 31:25, a 7:51/mi avg.

I should run my tempos on a flat course, but I am really, hugely, morally, opposed to driving somewhere for a run under 10 mi long. It just makes no sense to drive somewhere that I can get on foot. But someday, I should try a flat tempo and see what spills out.

Anyhow, I've got one goal down.

4 miles at 8:00/mi.

Humboldt Redwoods 23 Miler

It has taken me a few days to finally put this trip into words, for a few different reasons. One, it was exhausting. I slept nine hours overnight after the run, and then about four hours in the afternoon on Sunday. Secondly, it was a bit longer than I had originally anticipated. Somehow I didn't add up the miles in my head correctly while looking at the map. And lastly, it was the first really long run, giving me a taste of what training for an ultra would be like. It took me a few days to fully process and decide what my summer plan of action would be : to ultra or not to ultra?

Bull Creek crossing.

The humidity was unbearable. It was the first time wearing a new running tank top. And it was not of the breathable variety. It was like I was wrapped in plastic wrap. From the moment we started, it was hot and sweaty. A few miles into the run, I considered bailing on it altogether. Being this trail was a 40 mi drive from my house, considering giving up was a big sign as to how uncomfortable it was.

Stream crossing doesn't look that threatening, does it?

Three miles into the run, Matt and I negotiated our first bridge-less stream crossing. After a quick glance to my muddy running shoes and the glossy, wet rocks, I took Matt's hand. He held me upright for a moment and then, crash. I soaked both feet, scratched and bruised both knees and somehow twisted myself in such a way that I landed on my left knuckles, spraining one of my fingers. And it was only three miles in. We walked a little bit while I cursed life and how miserable this run was, but after a minute or two, we dropped into an old Redwood grove and my sour mood lifted. Running squeezed most of the excess water out of my shoes, but I really feared that I'd end up with mounds of blisters.

Anybody home?

Running buddy with slivers of sunshine on his back.

Tight fit.

Our first turn-off from the River Trail was to Grasshopper Road at mile 5. The road used to be a logging road, and now is just an obstacle course of broken branches and downed trees.

Fire area was especially treacherous. Debris everywhere.

A slow, unrelenting climb to the top of Grasshopper Peak, some 3,500 ft up, passed at a snail's pace. We walked most of it.

Looks like I took a swim, doesn't it?

"This hike is ridiculously hard," I commented to Matt. He smiled, "it's funny how you're not calling this a run anymore." We really did walk a lot. Garmy wasn't working when we set out on the run, so we had to go by time on Matt's watch. At mile eight, we heard a rustling in the bushes. "Do you see anything?" Matt asked. "Nope, but it sure sounds big." The sound came from just uphill of our trail, crossed it, and continued down quickly. By the time we spotted a tan nose and the mid-size black bear attached to it, it was about 100 ft downhill. Just as I got the camera out and poised for a picture, he ducked from sight. Somehow, I wasn't afraid at all. Maybe I should be. But I feel like bears, especially this deep into the park (and we ran through tons of cobwebs so I knew we had been the first ones in days or even weeks), are actually afraid of human voice and only a problem if we catch them by surprise or get between a mama and cubs. We continued on our upward trek, still walking. We spotted deer, turkeys, and some brightly colored birds. Just as I thought I was going to melt completely into a puddle, the skies opened.

Rain and sunshine? Sounds good to me!

Rain fell, providing an icy relief from my exhausting sweat. Instantly, I felt better. When have I ever been so happy for rain! We continued, 2h45 into the run and no idea how far we'd come, we debated whether to turn back since it was already 6pm and Matt had to work at 10pm. Running, I can generally tell how far I had come by feel. But running with this much walking was disorienting. I really missed Garmy. At 3h10 into our run, we hit one of two landmarks on our run : Grasshopper Trail Camp. That means we got our first 10 miles in 3h10. A 19:00/mi. Guhh...This was going to take forever. I'd already eaten every calorie I brought along. I still had a bunch of electrolyte water in my camelbak and that seemed to be enough. At the top, I got a chill through my soggy layers. I added gloves and a long-sleeve shirt. Much better.

Just after Grasshopper Camp, we headed down. Steep downhill. Painful downhill. Again, we had to walk, just to reduce the pounding on our knees. A couple of miles later, we turned toward the Johnson Camp and the trail turned from fire road to single track. I really love single track. Our downhill finally leveled off enough that it was runnable. The miles just flew by. We passed Johnson Camp, a couple of old logging cabins, now used by backpackers. About this time, Matt and I realized that we hadn't seen a single person on our trip besides a photographer back at the car. It was nice to have this beautiful park to ourselves.

Almost stepped on this guy. He didn't move at all while we took his photo.

Johnson Camp Trail is my new favorite. As we dipped lower and lower into the valley, the trees grew from small maples and oak to a mixed forest of maple and redwood, to eventually all redwood. By this point, we had no idea how many miles we had come. "We must be near the Bull Creek Flats, because this is exactly what it looks like," Matt remarked, considering the type of tree we were passing.

Back in the flats with the Giant Redwoods.

Approximately 4h30 into our run, I started to feel hungry. Hungry minus the dizziness, thanks to my electrolyte water. When we hit the trail junction and turned onto Bull Creek Flats South Trail, it was about five hours. "Sammie, sammie, sammie", I chanted as I ran along. Matt had packed us PB&J sandwiches. They were in the car, some four miles away if I remembered correctly. Gotta get to them! Thoughts of my sandwich pulled me along the trail. The hunger was starting to get to my head. I sped up. Moments later, I'd be reduced to a walk, most of my energy sapped from the five hour effort. I repeated through this cycle several times. About 5h15 into our run, the trail veered in the opposite direction. Did we take the wrong turn? On a route with very few trail intersections, we were dumbfounded. How could we have made a wrong turn? Matt wanted to turn back, I refused. "Let's just keep going, this has to be the right way," only half believing the words coming from my mouth. Not ten minutes later, we finally recognized the trail. "Only a few minutes now, almost there," Matt offered comfortingly. We sped up and spotted our red car through the green jungle.

Trail to the car....

I removed the damp shoes and socks from my wrinkled, water-logged toes. No blisters? AWESOME!!! Running in wool socks really helps prevent blisters. And that PB& J sammie? Never tasted so good. I downed it in two bites. Stomach acid splashed back up my throat as I inhaled that sandwich. YUM!

The run took 5h30. Originally, we had estimated the run to be 21 miles. Upon closer inspection of the map and actually adding the miles properly, it came out to 23 miles. Pretty much the perfect "trial" run for deciding whether I wanted to continue training for that 50K, assuming it would feel a lot like this. I drove home exhilarated and in disbelief that I had actually completed a run like that.

Heart still beating? Check. Still breathing? Check. Ok, we're good.

The math :

Mileage : 23 miles.
Elevation Change : 8,000 ft.
Uphill 10 miles : 3:10
19:00/mi

Remaining 12 miles : 2:20
12:40/mi
Total running time : 5:30

To ultra or not to ultra?
HECK. YES.


August 28th, 2011. My first ultramarathon, a 50K. Stay tuned. :)