Foggy Bottom Milk Run 10 Mile Race Report

We all have that race we love and hate in equal measure. For one reason or another, it's always more difficult than it should be but we keep coming back again each year. For me, Foggy Bottom is that race. By all imperial measurements, this should be an easy run. With exactly one hundred feet of climbing over the ten miles, it's about as flat as it gets around these parts. There are long straightaways where one could theoretically open up their stride with ease and let the world fall away.

Course map. SRRC keeping it old school since 1980.

However, Foggy Bottom is never that way. The deteriorating country roads require one to stare at the ground the whole way. Even then, I roll my ankle about once every mile. By contrast, on trail I roll my ankle five or six times per year. Then it's always windy and rainy. Horizontal rain, sometimes hail, perfectly flat farmland void of any trees, and a small race field provide zero protection. It took me a few years to learn, but I've given up on targeting this as a goal race.

Then the universe throws me a curve ball. Of course.

Skies over the race course are blue. There's just a slight whisper of wind. Conditions are perfect. I decide to stick to my original plan of 10 miles at 7:40-7:45/mi since I haven't tapered. In the final moments before the race begins, we're all passing around a bottle of sunscreen.

On sunny days, we get half naked and bare allll the skin!

Living in the land of perpetual fog and gloom, all of us are caught off guard by the suddenly sunny weather. It also means our delicate skin is especially prone to burning. I hastily slather some on my shoulders before I pass the bottle to Matt and Andy.

I think they call that dark thing on the road a shadow? Y. Kim, SRRC.

Then we're off. I try not to get swept up in the current of runners. You are not racing today, I tell myself. I find it difficult to hold back as I get passed by people I usually beat. It feels like I'm running very slowly but as I find the first mile marker, I know I'm not. I momentarily reconsider my choice to stick with my plan. Knowing that I don't do well in the heat, I decide to stay with the original workout to help build my confidence rather than racing and risk blowing up.

Mile 1: 7:25
Mile 2: 7:37
Mile 3: 7:42

I struggle to find the correct pace, but by the time the four mile racers peel off just before their finish line, I think I've finally found it. Running an even pace based on effort in a race is so much different than when I'm out solo. It's here where I catch up to a man named Bill I met while working packet pickup the day previous. "I'm such an idiot," he says, "I went out at a 7:00 pace and my goal is 8:15!" I try to ease his panic as we run along together. "You're only three miles in, you can still fix it if you slow down now," I offer. As we turn off of Main Street, I'm surprised that he's sticking with me.

Mile 4: 7:41
Mile 5: 7:39

Now headed west, I can feel a slight crosswind blowing through my outfit. I know I'm beginning to overheat, so I'm welcoming any breeze that comes. With the warm coastal air some twenty degrees warmer than what I'm used to, I'm happy to not be racing.

As everyone rounds the turnaround cone, friends begin passing by. When I reach the cone myself, I make a beeline for the aid station. I take a quick walk to get the water in. I try to stifle a cough while I swallow but I end up choking instead. Gagging and hacking away, I'm certain I'm about to vomit. Bill passes by and I make it my mission to get back in front of him. I still sound awful when I begin running again, but eventually the anxiety and panic release.

Mile 6: 7:50

The next two miles are into the wind and the only person around is Bill. I tuck in behind his six foot frame and let him do some of the work. By mile 7, I can tell he's beginning to slow. I pull ahead of him to take my turn out front. I know my height is useless in blocking the wind, but I offer anyways. He knows I'm a marathoner and comments on how smooth my stride looks. I feel my stride pick up a little. Since his words of encouragement are motivating for me, I offer some in return when I notice him beginning to fall behind. "Bill, get up here!" I call out. "I need you! We're in this together!"

Mile 7: 7:38

He hangs around through the middle of the seventh mile and then I'm all alone. I can see two small figures on the road up ahead, but can't tell if they're racers or cyclists out for their Sunday ride (umm...they turned out to be cows). I remember back to my last race, the half marathon in February, when I spent the last five kilometers all alone. It was so hard to keep going by myself. Today, I try to convince myself that it's just another training run. This is a training pace, a training run is often alone. This is no big deal. I find this small mental shift comforting and work on keeping an even pace.

Mile 8: 7:34

I stop at the final aid station, sucking down two full cups of water. I turn around to grab a third to dump over my head. My fingers have swollen up like little breakfast sausages and I notice that by holding my fingers straight out away from each other provides a little more cooling. The last mile is with the wind and suddenly feels like a slog across the surface of the sun.

Mile 9: 7:52

As I pass the ninth mile cone and push the lap button on my watch I tell myself, Now that we've had a little water break, it's time to go for it.  I give myself permission to turn up the pace. With half a mile to go, I make the final turn back onto Main Street. For the first time in several miles, I spot three people. I make it my mission to close the gap, estimating they're about two minutes ahead of me.

About one half mile from the finish line, we enter downtown. Victorian storefronts painted in Easter egg colors line the route. A crowd is already gathering for the kid's race. People are cheering, some voices I recognize, others I don't. As I approach the finish line, I hear the announcer call out my name. He's the owner of the local running shop and knows everything about everyone, so he adds that I'm a club board member and training for Boston. I love my small club, they announce my arrival at the local marathons in this very same way. It's the closest I'll ever get to being famous!

Mile 10: 7:21

I cross the finish line and then wait for Bill. To my surprise, he's not far behind at all. He says he tried to keep me within sight but lost me the final mile.

Y. Kim SRRC photo.

1:17:09
7:43/mi.

Matt, the friendly Sasquatch, took second place. He finished in 1:02:30, holding off his friend and circuit rival Jorge by less than ten seconds.

Y. Kim, SRRC photo.

Maybe next year I need to race this thing?

Three Sisters Hut to Hut: We finally spotted the mountains! ....sort of.

By dawn on the third day, we had our routine down. Matt stoked the stove as I brewed the coffee. Within no time, we were enjoying our final meal of our trip: potatoes and eggs. How come food tastes ten thousand times better on adventures like this? It's one of life's mysteries, I guess.

That mug made me giggle.

The howling wind that had kept the hut shaking all night had finally calmed. I pulled on my booties and headed outside to investigate. Much to my surprise, there was actually a view. For the first time on our trip, we could see the mountains...or a hint of them anyways.

Anxious to liberate Zoey from kitty prison, we built our last PB&J, then hit the trail. Compared to the previous two days, it wasn't snowing. It was almost enjoyable. Pleasant, even. Of course.

Judging by our map, it looked like our final ski day would be mostly downhill. Crisscrossing over a main snowmobile trail, we faced constant temptation to jump on that instead of breaking trail. The final day was through what we assumed as civilized in the summertime: a campground and a lake with cabins nearby.

Really beautiful burn area. It was like being in a black and white photo.

Eventually our route rejoined a nordic trail system. For me, this is always where I get lost. Too many trail choices, not enough identifying markers. I get lost on this sort of trail in the summertime and in the winter, apparently my mind does not discriminate by the season. Determined not to backtrack or lose our way, we spent a lot of time stopped, studying the map, studying the topography and then moving on for ten minutes before stopping again.

By my estimation we were two miles from the car and had a single sweeping downhill left. All trails were free of tracks....except one. Assuming this person had traveled from the snopark, we decided it most prudent to follow their tracks out. I finally let my guard down and cruised on down to the car in record time. The tracks dumped us out right where we wanted to be.

Mt. Washington from far far away.

It took us twenty minutes to dig out Ruby Sue, our intrepid Subaru. She scolded us for leaving her all alone in the snow, but we made quick work of removing the two feet of icy powder and she forgave us. She even brought us to Dairy Queen for a post-adventure treat!

Almost a mountain.

As we headed back into Bend to pick up Zoey, we spotted mountains in the rear view mirror. Of course, the best mountain photos I took were from the side of the highway. We're lucky like that.

That evening, we picked up Zoey from kitty prison and our family was reunited once again. Even though the weather wasn't good for viewing the mountains, it was quite the adventure and I would love to go back again!

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Whoops! That was me! hehe.

If you'd like to try your weather luck at this adventure, we booked this trip booked through Three Sisters Backcountry. These guys were aces. They warmed each of the huts before we got there, loaned us a GPS unit (that we never turned on), and checked on us when the weather was ugly. The cool thing about these huts is that they remove them each spring. They only exist in the winter, which means they're cleaned, well-maintained, and pretty awesome that they leave little footprint on the landscape. Since it was all-inclusive (even the shuttle van), it was a pretty good deal for a three day trip.

Note: We did not receive compensation for anything on this trip.

Three Sisters Hut to Hut, Day 2: The Great Snow-nado

Awakened by small bits of snow falling on my face, it took a few moments for me to realize where I was. I rolled over to look at my watch before stirring further to avoid waking up everyone else in the hut. Judging by the amount of light pouring in the window, I knew it had been a good sleep but it was probably late morning. Matt got up and helped me rebuild the fire and start the coffee. He dug around in the food cabinet for breakfast while I poured the grounds into a French press.

I was excited for a new day, yet still feeling the effects of the previous one. Day two is always a mixed bag like that. It was clear by the way our travel companions moaned and groaned as they got out of bed that they felt the same way. Over breakfast, the five of us pored over the maps.

Last night, I had mentioned that it was possible to take a snowmobile trail the whole way. Yesterday, that meant a packed trail but probably not today. Judging by how high the snow came up on my down booties when I went to the outhouse, I estimated that we had received close to eight more inches of snow overnight. They weren't as excited to hear about the new snow as Matt and I were.

Since our instructions specifically said to stay off the snowmobile trails and violation could jeopardize permits for this outfitter in the future, Matt and I planned to stick to the marked route but would make our final decision once we were out there. By taking the shorter route, maybe the snowshoe hikers would make it there before us and have a hot dinner ready for us when we arrived.

The firewood was kept beneath the hut. Matt shoveled out the path while I made breakfast. It was refilling by the time we left.

After a large stack of pancakes, two eggs, and as much coffee as I could stuff inside myself, Matt and I were fueled up and ready to go. As we took off on the next day's journey, we were happy to have some time to ourselves again.

Our day began on a shared corridor with the snowmobile route. All the tracks that existed the day before were undetectable. We weren't sure whether it was still snowing or the wind was just blowing the snow around. To be honest, it was pretty miserable. I debated turning around. Once our trail parted ways and took off straight up a hillside, we made our final decision: follow the original route and those darn yellow flags.

For the next two hours, we trudged through the snow. We flailed around comically the entire two hours. Instead of becoming frustrated as I had the previous day, I tried a new approach. Whenever anything was hard, I'd find the humor in it. It began like this: "Can you believe we paid money for all this fun?" and grew from there. When we could hear one another through the flapping of our jacket hoods, we made jokes about how much fun it was. After awhile, I began to believe it. Sort of.

"Don't you wish it was thirty below right now?"

"Hey look, a Snow-nado!! Are there flying cows in it? Snowmen?"

What the tongue of your boot looks like when the snow is fresh and sticky and you've forgotten your gaiters.

We stopped for lunch under the shelter of a tree. When I was a kid, I used to make winter forts in spots like this. Fluffy green pine branches hung down to the ground, weighed heavily with snow. Snuggled up next to the trunk, it formed something of a tent shelter. Even though we grew up in the same state, it's moments like this that set our childhood memories apart. The U.P. winters I remember bear no resemblance to Matt's childhood in far southern Michigan. Judging by the ice buildup inside our water bottle and the way the wind felt on our backs, we assumed the wind chill to be somewhere just below zero degrees. All I can remember about lunch that day was that I was happy my PB&J hadn't frozen.

Sometime about mid-afternoon, the wind stopped and the sun came out. I think the sun lasted only fifteen minutes, then another shower blew in. I spent most of this day's travel being thankful that the organizers did their homework and sent us from south to north because the wind was almost always at our backs.

Just as we were settling into a groove on a straight stretch, we heard a noise. A motor. We'd heard this sound on and off most of the day, but this time it grew louder and closer. Just then, a snowmobile pulled up. Once again, it was one of the outfitters, checking on those poor coastal Californians. "We came here to find winter," Matt said from beneath his hood, frosty beard, and ice encrusted hat, "I think we found it." The man laughed and then turned to me. I smiled too. I added, "Yeah, we're fine. We aren't moving very fast but this is exactly what we signed up for!"

We told him that the other group had planned to go up the other way in case he was going to check on them too. Then he said shortly after we left, the group called him with an SOS for a ride. Nobody was hurt, but they were too tired to continue and at noon were still at the first hut. He said his business partner was going to pick them up while he came to check on us. He wasn't sure but he said that we might have the second hut to ourselves for the night. Yay!  As he drove away, he asked us one last time if we needed anything. Both of us shook our heads. Then he said, "Thanks for being awesome!" and drove away.

No, Thank YOU! This track was amazing!

Since he backtracked along the route from the second hut we found ourselves, for the first time on the trip, following packed snow. Fresh snowmobile trail. It was amazing. I finally got to experience my new skis! The metal edges gave me more control and the waxless fish scales gave me the climbing power I needed. A+ new skis! The last two miles to the hut were the fastest of our trip so far. We arrived just before dusk and made quick work of surveying the supplies.

Sometimes it's nice to rewarm ourselves from the inside with beer fuzzies.

Food supply, Hut 2.

Hut number two was equipped with supplies for pasta. We wasted no time digging into dinner. Day number two required two dinners. Both were divine. The only thing missing from the huts was chocolate.

While making dinner, we found a note left by the snowshoe hikers. We would indeed have the hut to ourselves. We spread out our gear without consideration for anyone else and it was glorious. Without feeling the need to be social, we tucked into bed early and I finally got to open and read some of my book before dozing off.

Three Sisters Hut to Hut: Sunshine, Rainbows, and a Ton of Snow

Daylight was just beginning to peek through the curtains when Matt threw them open. Despite a western view, the sky was already bright with light. And sunshine! Few clouds hung in the air as we ate a quick breakfast, packed our bags, and headed out for some Dutch Bros.

Oh what an adventure it would be!

Excitement grew as we pointed our car west from Bend. Sunshine lit up the mountains and with some lingering bits of moisture in the air, a great rainbow appeared. One of the brightest I've ever seen, it grew from one rainbow to two and both ends seemed to land at appropriate places on the horizon to mark the start and finish points of our planned trip.

 

When we arrived at the snow park to drop off the car, I even considered bringing along my sunglasses. What a gorgeous day it was turning out to be!

When we arrived to check in with the outfitter, they asked if we had downloaded the topo maps to our phones. If you've been reading this blog long enough, you know that Matt and I are old school. We have phones, those cheap pay-as-you-go kind, and the most sophisticated thing they do is text on the nine digit numeric keypad. "We're map and compass people," I told him.

As is often the case, they then ask where we live and where we play. Most recently, it's been California and I know that makes us sound like the greenest, most unprepared coastal wimps in the world. Everywhere I've visited since we moved to California I've encountered people who find out where we live and then snicker under their breath when we take on something hard, as if to say, "oh, you're in for a surprise." Alaskans are the worst, followed closely by Oregonians apparently?

"Would you be offended if we sent you with a GPS unit?" he asked. Okay, fine. We were even presented with a set of spare batteries too. Insert eye roll. I really do know how to read a map, I promise. ;)

Accompanying us in the shuttle van and on our trip was a group of snowshoe hikers from Portland. We chatted a bit with them. They seemed confident in their abilities while Matt and I sort of cowered in the back seat hoping we'd brought enough layers. Surely the route wasn't as hard to find as the guy who offered us his personal GPS unit made it seem.

All of that fair weather optimism began to unravel as we passed through Bend and the shuttle bus carried us skyward toward Mt. Bachelor. First the sun disappeared. Then it began snowing. Then the snow blew across the road, creating puffy drifts that the van whooshed through with ease.

Then the world turned to this.

From the very first step, gliding through the snow was a virtual impossibility. We would end up breaking trail pretty much the entire day. The heavens did have mercy on us in that the first few miles were within the trails of a snow park so at least there were some tracks beneath that six or eight inches of new powder. At least it wasn't that bad. The trees were like something out of a painting, all weighed down with heavy flocking, just begging for me to take their photo.

Just as I settled into the slower pace and became comfortably warm in my cozy Adventure Hat and Gore-tex hood, we hit the end of the snow park. From here, we'd be following a map and some yellow canvas flags. On an ordinary snow winter, there's probably something of a trail leading between the three huts on our journey, but not today. Once we left the snow park, breaking trail was much more strenuous. The slightest incline sent my heart rate skyrocketing and I unzipped all the possible zippers on my coat to keep from overheating. Was I even moving forward? I couldn't tell for sure. My Garmin watch gave no indication we were moving at all.

After what seemed like hours, we finally crested the hill we'd spent most of the morning climbing. At the top, Matt met another skier. We chatted a bit with him before we realizing he was one of the owners of the outfitter company, coming to check on two skiers from sea level California. Sigh. I brushed off his lack of faith in our abilities when I realized that this meant there would be a broken trail to follow!

Wind was still blowing the falling snow down sideways but having tracks made the downhill portions more fun. We eventually hit a forest so dense that reprieve from the wind came.

Some five hours into our strenuous ski day, I finally reached my exhaustion point. I fell six times within a mile. It was bad. I'm a terrible skier when I'm trudging through a foot of new snow but I'm even worse when I'm tired. One particular spill was taken at the bottom of the hill. Both skis stopped, I kept going. Splat, straight into the snow, nose first.

Like this (source)

Behind me, Matt called to ask if I was okay. I was stuck. Face first, buried shoulder deep in the snow. The sound I was making could have been laughing or crying. I couldn't tell either. Turns out, I was laughing so hard I was crying. It was the textbook perfect fall: face in the snow, poles askew, and feet up in the air behind (or above?) me.

A different crash. I spent a lot of that last hour looking like this.

After half a dozen crashes, I decided to take the last downhill on foot. My foot sank in two feet, finally hinting at an answer to the question we had been asking all day: "How deep do you think the snow is?"

Then I could smell smoke. According to the map, once we hit a snowmobile trail, we were almost there. I've been on a lot of cabin trips, but I was never happier to arrive at our night's dwelling as I was than this night.

The first of two identical huts on our trip, this one was buried in at least eight feet of snow. A maze of shoveled areas led to the firewood and outhouse.

We took our time exploring the contents of the hut. When we originally booked our stay, we read about how food, firewood, and sleeping bags were provided. We didn't realize how extensive these collections would be until we arrived.

Rice and bean taco bowl with salsa and chips, none of which I had to pack in myself!

The first night had cans of taco fixings for dinner and pancakes, eggs, and milk for breakfast. There appeared to even be special consideration for those who might be gluten or dairy sensitive. Compared to our previous trips to Alaska's DNR and BLM cabins where we had to trudge around in the snow cutting our own downed trees, this felt like glamping!!!!

Really now: How luxurious is that?!

Several hours later, our trip companions arrived. They appeared to be quite a bit more haggard than we were. Also runners/hikers, they spent much of the night telling us about their favorite races and backpacking spots. In general, I like my solitude so I did a lot of listening instead of giving away too many of my favorite places. :)

Armed with a brand new book, I tucked into one of the loft beds early hoping to read for awhile before nodding off.  Not ten minutes later, my eyelids grew heavy and I dozed for a solid ten hours before stirring again.

Training Update: February

Shortly after my last visit to the local college's track, demolition of the old grandstands and nearby trees began. The track team was out practicing when Matt and I arrived and they informed us that we can use part of the track, a measly 110 yard straightaway on the opposite side of the field. That would not work for any of the runs we had planned. Deflated, Matt and I headed home to do a fartlek run instead. The track coach reassures us it will reopen soon, but it took several weeks before we returned.

The silver lining in all of this is I've resumed tempo runs. I know, I can't believe it either. I hate them. Or at least I used to. Those things which I dread the most are those that make me strongest. For me, that's definitely the tempo run. And squats. And a focus on eating around one hundred grams of protein (almost double what I'm used to) per day). Apparently all that stuff together makes me faster.

Here's a look at the weekly breakdown of workouts and mileage. Until the half marathon on February 18th, mileage had remained on the lighter side so I could be rested enough to tackle more difficult speed sessions. Now that full marathon training has resumed, mileage will creep higher until the taper.

January 22-28: 35.25 miles

Long Run:

• 11.75 miles including Trinidad to Clam Beach Run.

Y. Kim, SRRC photo.

Speed: 

• 6.5 miles, middle three fartlek: 1 min fast: 1 min easy: Backup plan for the track workout we had originally scheduled. Nothing too exciting, but wow was it wet and windy. Took the hillier route through town. 

• Trinidad to Clam Beach 8.75 Mile Race: 1:08:28. Looking back at it now, it's no wonder this day was plagued with breathing issues.

XT:

•  Snowshoe 5.5 miles, 2:25. Snowshoe to the Table Mountain lookout tower. Followed snowmobile tracks most of the way so it was pretty leisurely.

Notes: This week began in southern Oregon and ended back at home. Every time we return home after more than a day away, it seems I have to re-acclimate to the mold, as ridiculous as it sounds. I discussed this with my allergist a few days later and she confirmed that not only is it possible, it's a pretty common problem for her patients. Who knew?

January 29-February 4: 61.5 miles

Long Run:

•  15 miles, 2:09:47, 8:37/mi. Another fifteen miler, the longest I planned to go until after the Rogue River Half. Due to the weather, I ended up running a speed workout the day before this one. After the run, I had a scary moment in the shower when I almost fainted. Turns out, I had a huge bruise on my left foot from moving furniture a few days before. As the warm water dilated my foot's blood vessels, my foot swelled up and I almost fainted. I was fine after lunch and some water. I spent the day with my foot elevated and took a couple days off of running after that to let it begin to heal.

Speed:

• 6.5 miles, 5 @ 7:18/mi. First speed workout after TCB. I did a short warmup at home, tucked my rescue inhaler in my pocket, and took off. No problems breathing at all. After my fifth mile, I did slow it down, cough up a ton of phlegm (almost choked on it, what a sight I was), and finished my cooldown. This was the first half pace workout where I considered running farther than my plan suggested! That’s nice to see!

• 8 miles, middle four fartlek: 1 min fast: 1 min easy This run was very windy. The first half of the fartlek felt fast and effortless, the return trip left my max effort pace at an 8:00/mi. It also flared up my asthma and made my lungs cranky for the next few days.

XT:

•  Does trail running count? No? The first week in 2017 without any cross training.

Notes: After such a terrible race, I was really concerned about lingering effects on my other workouts. Once I adjusted my medications, things improved quickly.

February 5-11: 41 miles

Long Run:

• 10 miles, 1:25:58, 8:36/mi. I attended a swim clinic earlier in the day so I kept the long run shorter than I would have otherwise.

Speed:

• 7 miles, 6@7:17/mi. Last tempo before the taper to Rogue River. Beautiful day with shorts and a tank top!! I nabbed another Strava CR. Now I’m queen both directions! I felt a little raspy and sore at the end but manageable.

• 7.25 miles, middle 4 fartlek: 1 min fast: 1 min easy. Didn’t decide to do this one until the last minute. Ran fifteen pickups in all, between a 6:30-6:40 pace. Not bad for one of those disgusting soaker runs I almost skipped. It was a big help to have Matt block the wind through the tough parts.

XT:

• 7 miles bike. Kept Matt company during his pace run. This is the only way I can keep up. :)
  

• 60 min swim. Worked on stroke efficiency and drills. Now if only I could get myself to the pool more often to practice.

Notes: Mini peak week before the half taper. Extra rainy weather helped my allergies/asthma and I went into the taper feeling optimistic about the race.


February 12-18: 23.25 miles

Snuggled up next to the heater.

Long Run:

• 14 miles including Rogue River Half Marathon.

Speed:

• 4.25 miles, 2@7:05/mi. Ran with Matt and Rachel. I'm impressed how much easier this pace has been for me this year. Maybe tempo runs aren't so horrible after all. :)

XT:

• A few light walks? Matt and I spent the latter half of the week wandering around near the yurt, but I don't find it necessary to keep track of walking mileage.

Notes: I never know what to say about taper weeks. I ate like a queen, rested like a pro, and tried to bring the best version of myself to the race on Saturday.

February 19-25: 22 miles

High desert trail run outside of Bend, OR.

Long Run:

• None. It didn't seem necessary. Read below.

Speed:

• 7.25 miles including 4x880yds and 4x440yds. The track has been closed for about a month while they do some landscaping near the stadium. Apparently, someone felled their trees on the track because there are huge bumps, some as high as three inches tall, all over the place. Only a few are in lane 1, where I do my workout, so it didn’t slow me down much but I was careful on where I put my feet. I haven’t had a chance to write about it yet, but I took a few nasty spills during our ski trip and think I pulled something in my back. After the first four reps, I decided to half the interval and finish my third fast mile with quarter miles instead. 
  

XT:

I spent most of the week on skis. The first day was intense and I spent a lot of time looking just like this.

• Backcountry ski 7 miles, 4:52. Blizzard conditions and breaking trail through 6-10" new snow.
• Backcountry ski 8 miles, 6:24. Same, minus a few hills, only 10-15" new snow.
• Backcountry ski 6.5 miles, 3:21. Downhill most of the way through 10" new snow. Then following some tracks (!!!!!!!!!!!!).

Notes: From a structured training standpoint, this week was a mess. If I were more rigid about my training, I'd never do something like this but I choose to keep some flexibility and throw in some real adventure. This week was both fun and challenging. I have no doubts that it will help my training. A full recap of the ski portion is forthcoming.

February 26-March 4: 55 miles

Sunday's trail run. This trail has been underwater all winter so we came prepared for a swim.

Long Run: 

• 20 miles, 2:37:42, 8:23/mi. Fast Finish: Miles 13-19: 8:32— >7:21. My fastest fast finish ever. Fastest overall 20 miler too. Felt incredible! LOVE LOVE LOVE.

I'm really proud of this one! :)

Speed:

• 9 miles, 8@7:41/mi. A tiny bit too fast, but doable. I knew that bumping up the training paces would hurt a little. Definitely felt it on this run.

• 7 miles, including 3.3@6:56/mi. I used my tempo run to best my own Strava CR. The segment plus distance from my house gives it that uneven distance. I'm already seeing changes in effort level at these faster paces so I may substitute tempo runs for track workouts more often. After all, the goal is to make marathon pace feel easier, so I could use any variety of longer speed session.

XT:

• 10 mile bike ride. Again, pacing Matt. After Boston, I plan to get some faster rides in so I don't end up riding the bike portion of the triathlon at 10 mph. :)

•  3 mile ski, 1:29. After the last few skis, this one felt easy and enjoyable. Perfect snow day. I do not regret ditching a ninety minute run to weave through the trees on our local mountain.

I can't resist a good Choose Your Own Adventure Day.

Trinity Alps are looking gorgeous this year.

Notes: Back to structured training with a little playtime. It's still my goal to get some cross training in each week.

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I rounded out February with 156.25 miles. While that is quite a bit lower than it usually is for this point in training, none of the cross training efforts are included. They definitely contributed to my endurance base so I'm not concerned. I'm hesitant to say my hip has fully recovered, but the varied training has definitely helped. Now it's a rare day my hip talks to me. I'd like to keep it that way.

My next race is Foggy Bottom on March 12th. I'm waiting to see what the weather does this week before making a final race decision. Distance options are 10 miles (would run marathon pace for some or all of it) or 4 miles (would race as tempo run).