Trail Running Season

After our road trip with Joel, Matt and I returned to dirt for the summer. We set our sights on the Siskiyou Outback 50K and began running as many hills as possible.

Through the month of May, trail runs centered primarily on the Grasshopper course: scouting, prepping, and throwing up some flags and signs. One week, the entire burn scar was covered in purple flowers. The next week it was gone.

One week it was foggy, the next it was broiling hot. I enjoyed watch spring transition to summer as I prepped one of my favorite local trail running routes for race day.

By race day, I had already spent the equivalent of two full weekends on the course and was very excited to have all the runners check out my favorite place.

 

We had runners from six different states and some as far away as New Hampshire. The 30K nearly doubled in size from last year and I was very pleased with how it all turned out. The t-shirt was especially cute this year, too.

I picked the wrong day to forget I was wearing my husband's pajamas.

Training escalated quickly after that. The most exciting thing about the day-to-day of this year's trail summer was exploring the unmarked logging roads near town. People use them frequently, but I hadn't explored much beyond the main access road. Every Wednesday afternoon, we added pieces to the maps in our head and eventually found our way around most of the trails. On our final Wednesday before the taper, we finally discovered a way to connect them enough to make a loop. We estimate it's about fifteen miles long so it will have to wait until next season.

Every summer, whether I'm racing trails or not, Matt likes to take a camping trip and run a lot of miles. This year, we returned to Weaver Basin and got lost in the Trinity Alps. While we know the trails here fairly well, we were trying a new loop. Much like our trails at home, many aren't marked.

We did a lot of this.

We wandered down an unmarked trail thinking it would close the gap in our loop but it eventually dead ended in a patch of bushes on a steep hillside.

We wandered around looking for it for awhile, consulted our map and eventually backtracked until we found it. We added another hour to our already long day with the bonus miles but time on our feet is time on our feet.  It was gorgeous and we were all pretty good sports about it.

Happy to finally find the car again!

Bootcamp weekend would not be complete with a trip up Granite Peak. Climbing five thousand feet in five miles, it's basically an unrelenting slog to the top. It's worth it every time. The trip down is pretty quick and a fun way to toughen up my quads.

Cheez-Its and Trinity Lake

One week later, we packed up all our gear and headed east. Matt and I volunteered to pace a friend in his first 100 mile race. We figured it was as good a reason as any to travel to a new place so we were able to check both South Dakota and Wyoming out in one trip.

That's Rapid City, SD down below.

We did a run to South Dakota's High Point: Harney Peak

One really awesome thing about pacing a friend for a race is that we don't have to taper. Matt and I embarked on what was basically a week-long mileage binge at a moderate (4000-7000 ft) altitude. Then I power hiked 20 miles of the Centennial Trail with Jeff  because he wasn't moving super fast from miles 80 to 100. ;) The first thirty miles of his run were through thunderstorms, the next thirty were flailing around in the mud in the dark, and by the time he got to me at mile 80, he was still looking pretty decent. The only whining he did was when he couldn't pick his feet up high enough and it caused him to stumble. We grabbed a walking stick and he was pretty good after that. He even laughed a bit when I told him he only had two more rounds of "99 Bottles of Beer" to go until the finish line. I offered to sing with him. He said no. Party pooper.

He finished twenty-six minutes ahead of the final cutoff and got horizontal as fast as possible.

I still have no desire to run a 100 mile race.

Then we moved onto Wyoming and spent the next day being chased off of a mountaintop by thunderstorms. When the forecast predicted yet another day of thunderstorms, we hunkered down for an entire day so we could read, nap, and not die.

Sundance, WY

Upon returning home, we had time for just two more trail running weeks before our taper. Mileage was a little lower for a couple of local 5Ks (5Ks during 50K training are ouch, btw), but our final long run was a pretty big awesome day and I was really happy with how strong I felt at the end. It was 26.2 miles with 5555 feet of climbing. It was fantastic.

Still finding more trail marker flags from the race.

Grasshopper summit #4 of 2018

Post run soak in Bull Creek

Everything about the buildup to this race went perfectly. Since May 13th, I have run 520 miles and climbed 62,744 feet in preparation for this race. I was climbing stronger and faster than ever before. I didn't have any whisper of an injury. Heck, I even became more confident as a downhill runner, which is saying a lot due to the fragility of my left arm. I was ready to completely shatter the PR I had set at SOB in 2015.

I took six minutes off my best route PR at Headwaters this summer.

As my taper progressed, small wildfires grew near the course. One particularly eventful lightning storm last week sparked fires all over the Siskiyou Crest and Cal-Ore border. The Pacific Crest Trail, on which half of the race course travels, was closed. Air quality diminished. Last week, I debated whether or not I should race with my asthma. Today the race was officially cancelled, an announcement everyone from race management to the runners anticipated happening due to the smoke alone. 

A 22 mile run on the PCT near Lassen

Given the tight racing schedule I have already planned and registered for through the end of 2018, this will be another year without an ultramarathon finish on my record. That's probably the most disappointing part of it all. While I know fitness is never wasted and I can build upon what I've done this summer, I really wanted to race a 50K this summer. Bummer.

While it's disappointing that I won't be able to test myself and spend all day with the wildflowers and mountains of southern Oregon, I truly enjoyed the process. I ran with friends in some gorgeous places, and hope to be even stronger when next year's Siskiyou Outback rolls around.

Joel comes to visit!

In mid-May, Matt's and my college friend Joel arrived for a visit. Back at college, the three of us were running buddies. We shared many races and even more training miles together. After graduation, the gap between our endurance levels increased as Matt and I began running marathons and Joel gravitated toward sports teams through his work. He's a better soccer player than us but we can outlast him in endurance fairly easily. That is unless he comes to visit us the week after a marathon. Smart guy, isn't he?

Our trip began with an overnight at Burney Falls. The falls were magnificent and well worth a second trip in the evening after all the crowds went home. This time, it was just me a quiet group of photographers.

Meanwhile back at camp, Matt and Joel had begun making dinner. And by making dinner I mean that Joel did the cooking and Matt chased away the very friendly squirrels who took to climbing the picnic table and got dangerously close to diving headfirst into our bags of chips. This, people, is why we don't feed the wildlife even if it's reallyreallyreally cute. What's also really cute? The following video of Matt in action.

 

The next day, we spent eleventy billion hours in road construction to travel just one hundred and fifty miles. Luckily, we had snacks.

I love when popcorn comes in single-serving bags.

When we arrived at Lava Beds National Monument later in the day it was already as hot as the surface of the sun. Luckily we wouldn't be spending much time above ground today. We had a quick picnic between our car and its twin before discovering the underworld.

What a relief that we came on green Subaru day!

We spent the afternoon wandering through caves. This went better than I thought it would. I'm not a very big fan of dark, tight spaces where I could potentially get lost forever.

The name of this cave did nothing to relieve my fears.

Everything went fine until my headlamp began to die. After that, I was done. The guys hit the last couple of caves on our list while I worked on my tan.

By the time they returned to the surface, I was ready for an adventure within my comfort zone. We did a couple of short hikes, watching the setting sun disappear into the clouds from the Schonchin fire lookout. Then it was dinner time, where we discussed whether our day's adventure was indeed spelunking. When we were reunited with the internet, we did a search to confirm. That's how I found out way more about spelunking than I ever wanted courtesy of Urban Dictionary.

The next morning, we pressed on to the north. We headed through the rest of the park and to a wildlife refuge. The birds were supposed to be the highlight of this area but I'm pretty sure that they meant the mosquito. Needless to say, we didn't linger.

Tulelake Wildlife Refuge

We rolled into Klamath Falls about midday and traded our four wheeled vehicle for two wheels. Joel rides the DalMac every year so he pretty much laid us to waste on the bike. I've always been a fan of rail trails and have had my eye on this one for quite awhile.

As predicted, it was straight as an arrow. And as predicted, afternoon thunderstorms were brewing. We stared at the same cloud for over an hour before deciding to turn around. After twenty some odd miles, my butt was more than ready to call it quits.

Sweet plow used to clear the tracks

From here, we checked into our hotel and waited out a downpour. Once the darkest skies cleared, we were tricked out onto another adventure. This one brought us to the hills above Klamath Lake. We hiked for an hour until the skies turned dark and Mother Nature scared us off the mountain. It did make for some really badass lighting.

Once the clouds started to throw lightning bolts, we broke into a jog and then a sprint. The downpour waited until we were back at the car. Back at the hotel, we hit the evening reception for soup and cookies. It sounded like a weird combination but was completely satisfying in the moment.

The next morning, we headed toward Ashland on Hwy 66 and planned to hike to a lake near Green Springs. The clouds were too low to even see the lines on the road so we decided to scrap that idea and see if the valley had any better options.

In between rain showers, we decided on Table Mountain. I've been up here before and it never disappoints. Again the weather put on quite a show with rapidly changing clouds and nearby rain showers, but at least this time we didn't have to go run for cover. It's surprising how often Matt got us into these situations when he's supposedly a professional weatherman.

The final stop on our road trip was the next morning at Oregon Caves. We decided we had our fill of caves so we set our sights on 6400 ft Mt Elijah in the Siskiyou Mountains. Normally, Matt and I make a nine mile loop but I think Joel was relieved to hear that a section of our loop was covered by a vertical snow field.

Instead we did a shorter out and back and built a snowman at the summit.

But the real reason I love Oregon Caves is the lodge. More specifically the old fashioned ice cream parlor inside. Nothing puts the cherry on top of a fantastic trip quite like a cherry on a humongous ice cream sundae.

Then we pointed our car to the coast and headed home. The final day of Joel's visit was spent in the redwoods and racing a 5K dressed as pirates.

The best part of the trip is always the quality time we spend visiting. Joel is always up for anything and the three of us have gone on a lot of cool adventures together over the years such as backpacking the Lost Coast, eating and drinking our way through France, and kayaking in Lake Superior. Where should we go next?

Avenue of the Giants Marathon 2018

I let out one final shiver as I take my place at the starting line. In years past, I've placed pretty high in this marathon so I try to put myself somewhere near the front to keep from getting stuck when the road narrows down to a single lane. The pack lurches forward and a single shot begins the race.

Y. Kim, SRRC photo.

In that moment, everything else drops away. The taper hasn't gone the way I wanted. I caught a cold in the middle of week two and the last two days had left me feeling drained and sore as once again poorly timed lady cramps got in the way. But none of that matters now. If I were in the business of making excuses for why a race went poorly, I wouldn't even bother starting. Every race day is doing the best with what I'm given, whether it's illness, weather, or emotional stress getting in the way. It's time to see what I'm made of, I think to myself as I take the first step beyond the rubber timing mat.

In preparation for race day, I trained for a 3:15 marathon. Everything went perfectly. If this were a flat course, I would have chosen that as my goal. If I could match my CIM time and go sub-3:20 on this much hillier course, I decided, that would be excellent. My strategy was to break the course into four equal parts, the first of which I'd have to be especially cautious not to do too fast because it is uphill most of the way.

Mile 1: 7:14
Mile 2: 7:44
Mile 3: 7:34

Mile 3

The first few miles are surreal. It feels much like the training runs I've done here. Now that my legs are fresh, the race pace feels just as comfortable as my long run pace did with a much higher training load. Mile two has a steep hill in it and I remind myself to relax into it rather than force the pace.

Mile 4: 7:40
Mile 5: 7:36
Mile 6: 7:36

By the time I reach the first aid station, I've settled into my cruising effort for the day. I'm running in a pack with four men, but otherwise the field has thinned out considerably. We take turns leading while the others tuck in behind.

First Turn Around: 49:27 (target: 49:34)

The first few minutes after the turn around, I busy myself by greeting and cheering on the rest of my club friends. Then I look back to my pack of pacing friends. I'm alarmed to notice they've begun to pull away. I glance down at my watch, which I only half trust because of the dense canopy of redwood trees overhead. From what I can surmise, they're going much faster than I need to right now and I have no choice to let them go. This is your home course, you know what happens when you take the second quarter too fast. If they want to speed off on the downhill second quarter, you'll see them again later. Patience, Karen, I tell myself.

Mile 7: 7:33
Mile 8: 7:27

A team of Boy Scouts is manning the aid station. They've made a game of competing for our attention. I grab a cup of water from a boy whose catchphrase was most funny at the time: "Watch this ad for a free cup of water!"

Mile 9: 7:25
Mile 10: 7:31

Relaxing into the pace, I can feel my stride even out. I cruise through my favorite spot on the course. The redwoods are so artfully arranged on each side of the road that it feels more like I'm running through a painting. Their dark bark is covered in brown vines whose leaves are just beginning to reveal poison oak.

From a rainy run in March.

Mile 11: 7:46
Mile 12: 7:25

I catch up to another runner and we chat for a few moments. He tells me it's his third running of the Avenue. His last marathon was twenty years ago. I ask what made him come back. I enjoy his story and we both agree that this course is worth revisiting again and again.

Mile 12

Mile 13: 7:32

Approaching halfway is always a surreal moment. The peaceful forest disappears as a hum of cheers and activity draws near. I pass through halfway a little ahead of schedule due to the downhill, but otherwise I'm feeling good.

Halfway: 1:39:03 (target: 1:40:00)

I spot the finish chute up ahead. It's always a mental blow and making the decision to run away from it throws me a little every year. Yoon is busy shooting photos of runners finishing the 10K. A familiar face cheering me on is always appreciated.

Mile 14: 7:36
Mile 15: 7:33

Weaving through the pack of walkers in the 10K and half marathon, I try not to waste too much energy going around them. The pack seems especially spread out this year and I find I'm enjoying the company. I recognize one familiar shuffle stride as I pull up behind a white haired man. John is our senior most club member, still sassy and out doing his thing. "It's my 93rd birthday today!!!" he yells. He wants to keep chatting, I can tell, and his stories are always great, but I don't have time to chat. I make a mental note that maybe if I'm quick enough, I can pass him one more time before he finishes the 10K.

Mile 16: 7:43
Mile 17: 7:30
Mile 18: 7:33

Ever since halfway, I've noticed a slight blur to my vision. The world no longer feels crisp and vibrant. I make sure to take two cups of water at every aid station from here on out. One of the physiological changes I learned about racing during my period is that I require more water and food. So far I've been doing well with the food, but I definitely need more water. Luckily there are two aid stations within a mile of one another and I make sure to drink, take a salt tab, and have a gel to revive myself.

Mile 17

It's within this stretch that I catch up and pass three out of the four guys who ran the early miles with me. I encourage them to stay with me and one does for a moment before falling back again .It's a nice mental boost to know that I ran that part right. Being a local sure has its advantages sometimes.

Mile 19: 7:39

Turn around 2, 19.6 mi: 2:28:20 (target: 2:29:30)

Mile 20: 7:39
Mile 21: 7:38
Mile 22: 7:40

As the miles pass by, I compare how I feel to the last time I ran this course. In 2016, I ran my first sub-3:30 here with a two minute negative split. I can't tell quite what feels slightly off today, but I know I'm not running as strong. Mentally, my head is there, but my legs aren't feeling  as they usually do. My breathing is surprisingly calm too for this late in the game.

Mile 23

Then there's a slight twinge in my right calf. It's just a little tug at first. I try not to panic. Relax. You can run through this. Let the pace be what it wants and focus on relaxing your leg. Gentle self-coaching always works best for me so goes my inner monologue.

Mile 23: 7:39
Mile 24: 7:39

The hills continue to roll and I suss out what makes the twinges worse and it's definitely when I go uphill. The downhills provide just enough time to keep my leg calm in between the inclines. I'm praying I actually make it without totally seizing up and falling to the ground.

Mile 25 game face, hahaha

I pass the final aid station at Weott and am stopped up behind a queue of half marathoners taking their time choosing the perfect cup. The cramp intensifies and my left leg has now joined in. Ugh. I grab two cups of water and take a deep breath. Here's where we see what I'm made of.

Mile 25: 7:43

The twenty-fifth mile marker sits just before the freeway overpass. This bridge. Ugh. Always. 10K, half marathon or marathon, it's always my least favorite spot. But I know that once I reach the other side, it's downhill for half a mile before we get to go up again. I pull up next to a half marathoner. We're keeping the same pace. I feel like I'm practically dragging my right leg behind me. I stop for a short walk, it seizes up completely. Okay, back to a run. Walking isn't helping any. Let's finish this so we can go sit down somewhere, I tell myself.

I crest the final hill and try to pick up speed. Brandon is there screaming at me about running a PR. I'm pretty sure I'd lost contact with that goal miles ago, being so fixated on not cramping up completely and I figure he's miscalculated.

Up ahead I spot that familiar mop of white hair. John!! Am I really going to catch him?! Just before I pass Yoon again for one final photo, I make my way by again.  "Happy Birthday!" I call out to him.

This is my "holy shit, I'm going to make it!" face.

Mile 26: 7:40

Emerging from the forest into the sunshine, I finally realize that I'm going to finish upright. Friends line the bridge, including Paul who calls out a warning that there's a girl just behind me and closing in fast. Suddenly I've forgotten everything other than making sure she doesn't get ahead of me. My tired legs shuffle feels more like I'm on stilts now, but I over-stride and lope my way across the line. I don't take any chance by looking back.

Mile 26-finish: 1:33 (6:53/mi)

3:18:57
7:37/mi.
5th Female, 1st F30-34, 28 of 372 overall

I don't know what time I've run yet because the finish clock is showing gun time. I'm somewhere within seconds of my PR, I know it. (The timing company's wifi went out so no live results were available. Six hours later I finally figured out my time.) The girl behind me comes up and congratulates me on a great race. I thank her for lighting a fire under me and pushing my time under 3:19. Turns out, she's in my age group. Whew.

The moment I realize I get to stop. You can also spot the next women behind me. She was two seconds back.

A volunteer places the medal around my neck and I notice my bib number is red. Was it red before? I can't be sure. Turns out, I'd chafed through my singlet and bib number to produce this lovely red hue. Fun.

I grab a few snacks and a bottle of water and return the way I've come. I'm limping a little bit but all I can think of is watching Rachel finish. She's worked hard this year and I just know she's got a BQ time coming for her. After a few minutes, I spot her and Brandon. She finishes a full fifteen minutes ahead of her previous best in 3:30. I guess we're going back to Boston next year!

Matt finished in 2:54, also in fifth place for the men. It's fun how both of us seem to place similarly time and time again.

We spend the rest of the day volunteering and by four o'clock we're ready to call it a day and hit the shower. That night, I get to finally see my race result. TWO seconds shy of a PR. I could agonize over where I could have shaved a few seconds off but with the cramping, I'm proud of how I handled it. I hit the sub-3:20 goal I had planned and am happy with how I could produce the same time on a much more difficult course.