On February 27^th I caught a plane headed back down South to visit my sister, brother-in-law, and my new nephew Ryan (6weeks old!)…oh and to try and defend my surprise win at last year’s Carl Touchstone Mississippi 50. I was excited to see family and excited for a chance to splash in some mud puddles and run in non-snowy/icy conditions for the first time in a while. Trail running in Colorado from December through March consists of snow, ice, mud and every once and a while some dirt, needless to say suboptimal conditions for long distance training.

Playing with my new little nephew Ryan.

Two weeks out from the race I was hit with a nasty case of the flu which had me sleeping 12-15h/day and running ‘0’ miles over a 5 day span. Not really the ideal way to taper, but I guess I can say I got a lot of rest, right? The week before the race I felt ok, but still a bit tired and not 100%, all I could hope for was that come race day everything would be right. After a relaxing pre-race day hanging with family I drove myself up to Laurel, checked in for the race and sat by myself eating my pasta, salad and brownies at the pre-race dinner. Something about dropping into an unfamiliar race scene is very calming for me, no hype to get caught up in, no need to ‘make the rounds’ saying hello, just eat and relax.

Running the soft white sand beaches of the Gulf Coast near Gulfport.

It was soon morning, I packed up my gear and left the hotel for the start line in the Desoto NF. The temperature was a very comfortable 50F in the pre-dawn darkness, an omen of warmer things to come. The crowd very casually gathered at the start line, exchanged pleasantries and we were soon headed off down the dirt road by the hazy light of dawn. The winner of the 50k took off ahead, and soon a pack of 6-8 of us settled in around 8min pace for the long haul. Other than the occasional pleasantry we ran in silence, just the crunching leaves underfoot and an occasional splash through a muddy creek crossing. The first two 12.5mile laps went smoothly, though I could tell my body was fatigued from the flu and I was working harder than I’d have liked.

As I pushed my pace around lap #3 (running in 1^st place) the heat started to kick in and the sun cooked up the moisture and humidity. I’ve never been much for hot weather, especially when I’ve been training in 10-30F temps for most of the winter. As I finished the third lap, 38miles into my day, I could tell the temperature and fatigue were taking their toll. I was overheating and slowing down, still with two short 6miles laps to go. The last twelve miles were a trudge, and as the temps pushed into the high 70s, all of us on course cooked in the afternoon sun. At mile 41 the eventual winner cruised on past me, but that would be the only person to pass me by. Despite my melt down I was able to hang on to 2^nd place, running a 7:37:53, a few minutes slower than my winning time in 2013, and far slower than I’d hoped for this year, being far better trained.

Accepting my 2nd place award at the 2014 Mississippi 50.

While I didn’t feel good when I finished, it felt good to finish. I learned very early in my ultrarunning career that every race and each day is different, sometimes things go smoothly, other times there is more adversity to deal with, seldom is any race the same, even on the same course. Today the above average temps hit me hard and forced me to just ‘hang in there’ for the last twelve miles, I’d underestimated the heat and paid for it, but still managed to hold on for 2^nd place. I’ve always enjoyed the small local hometown races, and the Mississippi 50 definitely fits the bill. I’ve enjoyed meeting some of the locals, experiencing new trails (even the mud) and of course getting to see family. And now my 2014 race season is rolling, next up the Miwok 100k in May, this time I’ll be ready for the heat of California. Special thanks to Hind clothing for supporting my adventures and to Vfuel for fueling the long days on the trail. Run fast, run healthy, but mostly run happy.

A little post-race recovery on 3/9/14, ski touring near Rollins Pass in the CO high country.

If you know me at all, you’re probably aware that the ultra distance (50km-100mi) is my predominant focus when racing. In the past seven years I’ve only run a few non-ultra distance races, and only one of those on pavement (2009 Horsetooth Halfmarathon). After several weeks of rest this fall I decided this would be a good year to test myself with some ‘speed’ work, and get back to running flat, fast and on the roads. I set my sights on setting 5k and 10k PRs this winter, race distances I hadn’t attempted since 2005 (or never for a 10k).

You might ask, isn’t a 5k too easy? Well, yes and no. As ultrarunners we often are so focused on going slow and long that we don’t do any speed work, which would help us become well rounded runners. But I never run a 7min/mile in a race, why train that way? Because not only does it make those slower paces feel much easier, it helps you get stronger and faster. So starting in early November 2013, with the help of a few friends (thanks Ginna, Kate and Jason) I started to consistently do focused speed work twice a week, while still doing moderate trail runs the rest of the week.

My neighborhood track at Fairview Highschool. At least the view is nice. Photo from www.coloradofilm.org

Tuesdays I would do a flat 5k tempo run, focusing on even pacing, then Thursdays I would do 400m or 800m repeats to work on leg turnover and the speed side of things. It was encouraging to see my speed improve week after week, but it also made me realize how far off I was from the days when I was more a speed and power athlete (volleyball training). On December 8^th I joined a few friends at the Jingle Bells Arthritis fund raiser 5k in WashPark, Denver. A fairly low key race, but it would be my first official 5k since running at sea level back in 2005. With temps in the single digits and some snow on the road I wasn’t expecting a PR, but rather a good test of the fitness.

Finishing 4th at the 2013 Denver Jingle Bell 5k.

In spite of the conditions I was able to run decent splits (5:59/6:13/6:20) and finish 4^th overall in 19:12, just 7seconds off my recorded PR. With two more weeks until I attempt a 5k/10k combo as sea level (Pleasanton Double Road Race), I’m very hopeful for solid PRs at both distances. By no means am I becoming a road runner, but it is good to get ourselves outside of our comfort zone every once and a while to truly test our physical limits. For each person how hard you push yourself will be different, just pick a goal, enlist a friend to help, and see what you are capable of. For an ultrarunner, this means running so hard you’re out of breath and being done with your race in time for brunch (rather than breakfast the next morning). The trails are still what I love the most, but sometimes it hurts so good to push the body and build up a little lactic acid. Run fast, run healthy, but mostly run happy.

…well you shouldn’t be. With the onset of daylight savings and the days getting shorter and shorter as the winter solstice nears, many of us are finding far less daylight by which to run. Some people have the flexibility to run during their lunch hour, to get off work early, or maybe they don’t even work at all but others of us are relegated to the dwindling morning and evening light and will at some point be forced to run in the dark. Fear not, darkness does not signify the death of trail running! As someone who helps organize and lead a year round group night run (Wednesdays at 8:30pm in Boulder, CO), I can promise that while running trails in the dark does provide new challenges, it can also be a unique and rewarding experience.

BTR group Night Run on Mt Audobon August 2012.

Below are a few of my personal thoughts and tips on running dirt trails in the dark (because why run pavement when you really don’t have to?).

1. Find a buddy: Most likely you are not the only one with limited time and a strong desire to hit the trails before or after work. While there are some increased hazards of running in the dark, running with a friend or group can mitigate a lot of this. Your best candidates are those friends you’ve been training with all year in the day light. Another good source of partners are the local trail running groups. It’s easiest to schedule a specific date and time, then go from there.
2. Light up the Dark: The most important piece of gear for a run in the dark is a bright headlamp or flashlight. The brighter your light, the easier it is going to be to run through more technical sections of trail, so don’t go too minimal! I would highly recommend something with AT LEAST 80 lumens, and a handheld or waist mounted light will cast far better shadow than a headlamp for those very technical and rocky trails. I personally recommend lights from Fenix (HL30, LD22) and Petzl (Tikka XP2, Myo RXP, Nao).
3. Start with What You Know: We all have our local favorite trails, and these are a great place to start out. Running by headlamp or flashlight takes some getting used to, so don’t immediately head off to hammer the most technical route you know. Start out with something smoother and work up from there.
4. Slow it Down: With your field of view limited to your headlamp or flashlight, you will most likely need to slow the pace down in order to absorb all the upcoming obstacles in the trail. It’s not all about the speed, remember that you’re out on the trails because you love to run.
5. Enjoy!: While running in the dark does pose some new challenges, it also opens up a new world and a different side of the trails one does not see in the daylight. Solitude is much easier to find on a trail after dark, so for those seeking a little peace and quite, the night time is the right time. It’s also a great way to unwind after a hectic day, as the darkness seems to absorb many of the surrounding distractions; even your local city trail seems much more isolated and peaceful in the dark.

As you’re cruising through the dark forest/woods don’t forget to stop every once and a while and look up at the beautiful night sky or at the city lights below. Both are great reminders of why many of us run trails; to escape the hustle an bustle of an all too hectic life and to allow our soul to commune with nature and to be enveloped by the experience. If you have any additional notes or thoughts feel free to leave a comment, as I’m sure everyone’s experience is unique.

“The Mountains are calling, and I must go…”  – John Muir

Sunset over Canyon del Muerto, night before race day.

In early 2013 a friend, and Navajo, informed me that for the first time ever a public ultra marathon race was going to be held in Canyon de Chelly, AZ. While I’d heard of the canyon, I definitely did not know much about it, though the more I read, the more intrigued I became and knew that I could not pass up the opportunity to explore a place that is usually only made available to the public via specially guided tours. Canyon de Chelly sits right smack dab in the middle of the Navajo Reservation in Arizona. After dropping out of UTMB with a knee injury, I was unsure whether I’d be healthy enough to run and finish the Canyon de Chelly 55k, but after three solid weeks of rest, recovery and rehab I was able to get a few 12-15mile runs in. I was definitely no where near peak form, but I felt as though I could complete the race and thus couldn’t miss out on the opportunity to experience the canyon and the Navajo culture first hand.

Runners at the start line of the Canyon de Chelly 55k.

Saturday October 12^th runners gathered around the bonfire in an attempt too escape the 35F chill that greeted us. One of the local Navajo stepped forward and led us in a traditional Navajo morning prayer as we greeted the rising sun. After an additional moment of silence the race director, Shaun Martin, herded us over to the small starting gate for our 7am-ish start. No starting gun, instead Shaun sent us off by leading us in a loud whoop, and down the sandy wash we went, toward the rising sun. I cruised down the first few miles of sand, thankfully wet from a light rain, and into the mouth of the canyon. The red sandstone walls rose slowly from the sandy wash, but soon they engulfed us, towering 500ft above on all sides. The double track road in the wash bottom was a mix of packed sand and dirt, and made for fairly easy running. As I cruised into the White House aid station I became aware that I had no desire to ‘race’ that day, and that I was perfectly content to just enjoy the beautiful run and take in the pristine surroundings.

Morning sun touching down on the cottonwoods and the valley floor.

From White House on I ran alone, sure there were other people around, but I barely noticed them as my mind was in its own world. As I cruised up the canyon, through the numerous stream crossings, the massive sandstone walls continued to rise and signs of life began to appear. The barren wash had given away to a stream bed lined with cottonwood trees, showing just a hint of gold in their leaves. Small hogans dotted the valley floor, its inhabitants living in the style long forgotten by most. Here there were no department stores, no McDonalds, no Apple Store, no electricity, just the land and its inhabitants. Wild horses roamed the meadows and the only noises that broke the silence were the occasional rumbling of a jeep down the road and the loud whoops let out by the other runners. Where a western man like John Muir would preach for people to “go in silence…”, the Navajo prefer to announce their presence to the canyon and its inhabitants, so we were also encouraged to do so by Shaun.

Runner passing by Spider Rock.

As I continued to run the easy rolling road my eyes wandered the canyon; from rocky alcoves to ancient ruins, petroglyphs to modern hogans, the one word that kept coming into my mind was serene. While the canyon was beautiful, its architecture stunning, there are many other canyons that would rival its soaring sandstone walls and geologic beauty, but what Canyon de Chelly has that Zion, Grand Canyon, Buckskin Gulch don’t is a sense of purity and tradition. Entering the canyon is like stepping back in time, into a culture that existed long before Europeans arrived on these shores, long before the white man ‘civilized’ the West, where inhabitants tried to live in harmony with their surroundings.

Ascending the Bat Canyon trail, woohoo rocks.

After nearly two hours of running I rounded one of the many bends the canyon, but this time I was greeted by an 800ft pillar of rock towering overhead, Spider Rock. The first rays of sun were just beginning to penetrate the 1500ft canyon walls, illuminating just the tip of Spider Rock and a few select spots on the valley floor. To the Navajo Spider Rock is sacred, a place where it is said the Spider Woman lives, watching over and protecting the Navajo. The sight of this soaring spire rising from the middle of the confluence of two canyons must even give pause to the most unaware Westerner, as its majestic beauty can’t be denied. Just after Spider Rock our route turned up BatCanyon and onto the rocky Bat Trail, finally some technical hills, my favorite! I hike/jogged up the rocky slopes and through the final scramble to the BatCanyon aid station and turn around.

I took off bombing down the fun rocky technical trail and back onto the single track, and eventually double track in the canyon bottom. The sun’s full rays now warmed the cottonwood lined trail as I continued my steady pace, this time down canyon back toward Chinle. I stopped quite a few times to take photos, video and even paused by Spider Rock to have another runner snap a shot of me. I was in no hurry, but when I was moving I kept a steady pace, just enjoying cruising through the peaceful cottonwood lined valley. By the time I had reached the White House aid station I’d passed maybe half a dozen people and figured I was borderline top 10, thus finally decided to do a little racing. I pushed a little harder, dug down, and told myself that no matter what I wasn’t allowed to walk any of the last 5.5miles to the finish.

Towering walls of Canyon de Chelly, headed back down canyon.

The Top 9 finishers at the 2013 Canyon de Chelly 55k.

The last several miles were a grind, with several miles of now sandy wash to navigate. Finally at 5hours 19min I crossed the finish line in 8^th place, woohoo. Not a bad day’s work considering I’d been in cruise control for 29miles and had taken forty photos and 5-10min of video along the way. As it turns out 8^th was good enough to net me a Navajo fleece blanket, along with the standard finisher handmade turquoise necklace. In all the event had been a fantastic experience, one that had started before the race but did not conclude with me crossing the finish line. I am very grateful to Shaun Martin and the Navajo for allowing me to experience their culture in such a unique way, and for sharing their home and backyard. I would love a chance to explore more of the canyon, to see more of the history and the ruins, but that will have to wait for another day. Shaun is hopeful that the Canyon de Chelly Ultra will become a mainstay and that each year he will be able to share this special experience with a small intimate crowd of enthusiastic ultra runners, and I hope he and all future entrants do get this chance. Special thanks to Hind clothing for supporting my adventures and to Vfuel for fueling the long days on the trail. Run fast, run healthy, but mostly run happy.

In a previous blog report I outlined my gut reaction/experience after DNFing the UTMB race. Here is a more detailed report with more photos from my shortened run at the UTMB race 3 weeks ago. For those interested in getting a better visual on the course and a better understanding of what makes the race so unique read on, sorry if its a bit lengthy. I’ll try and upload a video with some more photos and live action from the trail soon as well. Happy trails.
UTMB Race Report

Vernazza, Cinque Terre. Surrounded by vineyards and precipitous cliffs.

Old town Siena and the Duomo lit up at night.

…of Boulder that is. It’s been 3 weeks since I boarded a plane bound for Switzerland and the Ultra Trail du Mont-Blanc. As I sit on the plane headed back to Washington and ultimately Colorado, I can say the whole trip was fantastic, but I am very excited to return to my normal life and the mountains. The cities of Cinque Terre, Florence, Siena and Rome have been interesting and a true blast from the past (as in 2000+ years); isolated villages surrounded by vineyards, swims in the Mediterranean, some of the greatest artwork of the Renaissance, ancient ruins and some of the most spectacular structures ever built by man. But all of this has only further reminded me that while I enjoy the city sights I am not a city boy and I belong roaming the mountains and forests.

Roman Coliseum, 2000 year old marvel.

As I previously wrote about, my race(UTMB) did not go as planned, resulting in my first DNF in an ultra marathon. While I greatly enjoyed my time in the race and the experience as a whole was fantastic, after 3 weeks the knee pain has dissipated, but the disappointment still lingers. Many have said I should not be disappointed, but proud of what I had accomplished. After much thought, I would argue that these two feelings are not mutually exclusive. Even though I had a good experience with the race, my goal was not to just start, but to push my physical limits and to ultimately finish the infamous UTMB.

Night on Piazza Navona in Rome.

Yes my DNF was caused by a physical limitation, but one I knew could be an issue and was preventable if I’d done the proper work in the months leading up ton the race. The fact that I knew better, but hoped I could get by is why I am disappointed. I am capable of the goal I set, but didn’t realize it for lack of proper training. After the accidents the past year I need to refocus not on running, but on rebalancing my body to the state it was last year when I completed Nolans14. With plenty of work ahead for the winter its time to get back to cross training; yoga, weights and cycling. As ultra runners we are often concerned with how much training can we squeeze in, especially for those of us who have full time jobs. What we need to remember is to not just train harder, but smarter. Know what you body needs and what it can handle. I am still undecided on whether to run the Canyon de Chelly 50km in October, this will mostly depend on how my body responds to am few longer training runs in the wake my my issues at UTMB. To all you out there, run fast, run healthy, but mostly run happy.

Trail running outside Zermatt, high in the Alps where I belong.

Relaxing along the river in Old Town Annecy, 8/26/13.

After bowing out of Hardrock in July for personal reasons I’d made the infamous Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc my one big goal race for the year. After running around the Colorado mountains all summer I was feeling as though I was trained and ready for the challenge. After a long flight to Geneva I spent a few days relaxing in Annecy with my family before we made our way to Chamonix on Wed before the race. The town was abuzz due to the sheer volume of runners and supporters in town, definitely easy to see how one could get caught up in it, I tried to relax and lay low, but between everything that needed to be done and all that was going on around town I got caught up a bit more than I would have liked.

Me (blue) at check-in.

Finally race morning arrived and after a solid 9h+ of sleep I was feeling rested and ready to go, problem is UTMB doesn’t start until 4:30pm. After a few last minute prep items, I laid down for an hour and a half ‘nap’, though didn’t really sleep. I met up with my friend Chris and his family and we all headed down to the start line to find our place in the amongst the masses who had already started to gather at the start. As we sat/stood around for almost an hour, I could feel the anxious excitement brewing and did my best to stay calm and collected.

Chris (yellow) amongst the throngs at the start of the UTMB.

Representing the USA at the start of UTMB.

Finally 16:30 arrived, music blared over the speakers and the announcer shouted things in French. Then came the count down and off went the lead runners at break neck speed, the middle of the pack, not quite so fast. In fact it took me 45sec to cross the start line and almost 4min to start consistently running. Crowds packed Chamonix as we trotted our way out of town, finally onto some dirt, enroute to Les Houches. While the trail was more than 2m wide, I found opportunities to pass few and far between, so slowly picked my way back into the top quarter of the race. We finally popped out in Les Houches, crossed the highway and started up our first climb of the day to le delevret. I was feeling good and of course was caught up in the excitement so pounded up the hill, hitting the summit in 1:44, faster than I should have. The descent into Saint Gervais was incredibly steep grass, and my quads could feel it. When I hit Saint Gervais I saw I was almost 15min up on my 27h pace, so needed to reign it in big time. I spent the next 14km to Notre Dame cruising the flat rolling terrain, taking it easy, and getting my fluids and fuels back in order.

Top of the me delevret climb, looking back at Les Houches.

It was here that I stopped racing and just started running (or hiking). Just like the stock market my place was due for a readjustment, so I quickly went from 348th to 392nd, no big deal, cause I was running my pace now. As the sun set I approached our first major climb, a 1200m ascent to Col du Bonhomme. As I power hiked up the mellow switchbacks, I was thoroughly impressed with the hiking speed of some of the Europeans, not being used to such smooth footing, I didn’t have that extra gear they did. As we climbed past La Balme high into the valley, I would occasionally glance back at the seemingly endless stream of lights snaking their way up the valley below, a serene and incredible sight to see. As I passed 2000m I noticed many of the Europeans slowing, I kept right on chugging away, soon catching those who had passed me below, I guess we Coloradans do have an altitude advantage.

After a short traverse I was soon on my way to Les Chapieux on some nice technical downhill, at last my advantage. I cruised on through Les Chapieux and and on up the long slow road toward the Col de la Siegne, the   first 6km of pavement were the least enjoyable part of the race, thankfully I was able to share it with Adam from Australia, taking my mind off it for a bit. As with the previous climb I started to reel people in near the top of the 2500m pass, then on the rocky part of the descent down to Lac Combal. On the descent I caught up to my friend Chris who had slipped by near Notre Dame. It was nice to have a friend and good company for the steep climb to Arête du Mont-Favre and steep descent into Courmayeur, our third big hill in the dark.

As we ground our way up the Arête du Mont-Favre Chris had a bit of a tired spell, so I chugged on ahead down toward Courmayeur. After a mellow start to the descent the trail pitched over at a precipitous angle losing 800m in just a few km. I could feel the twinge in my left quad, so I tried to take it easy, but the extreme steepness took its toll. The trail dumped us onto the back streets of Courmayeur, where the route wound its way along the narrow cobble stone streets, past people’s front doors finally popping out in downtown at the aid station. Being nearly 5am it was good to see the aid station and my parents.

Sunrise on the Mont Blanc massif near Refugio Bertone.

I was feeling quite alert and running well on the flats, but the twinge in my quad was disconcerting so early in the race. I tried to work on it, then bid my parents farewell, grabbed some soup and began the steep climb to Refugio Bertone. I met back up with Chris and Adam (Australian), and we pushed on up the hill. As the sun rose, we were treated to some amazing views of the back side of the Mont Blanc massif. We cruises through Refugio Bertone and across to the rolling traverse to Refugio Bonatti. While I was still moving well uphill and across the flats, my tight quad was beginning to put pressure on my the top of my patella and knee. On the descent into Arnuva Chris took off ahead, as I gingerly trotted down into Arnuva I had to stop a few times to massage out my quad, but that only provided temporary relief.

The descent into La Fouly, wish I could have enjoyed it more.

I hit Arnuva still moving OK, but becoming more concerned. As I sat in the aid station trying to work on my quad, a nice French young lady working at the aid asked Chris and I if we would like massages, hell yes! After 10-15min of working my quads, we thanked the two young ladies and headed out the door for the long climb to the Grand Col Ferret, our highest point on the course at just over 2500m. As we climbed out of the aid station, the trail just kept getting steeper, reducing me to a slow grind. I finally topped out at the Grand Col at 17hours30min into the race in 196th place. Ahead lay my worst nightmare, a 20km/1300m descent. I slowly shuffled off down the easy part of the descent, but after a few km the terrain steepened and the pain in my knee grew. I wrapped it up, massaged my quad, stretched…but nothing helped for more than a few minutes. I limped my way into the La Fouly aid at 108km, pain in every downhill step, and there my race would end. Everything else was working great; good energy, muscles still moving, no stomach issues, but that one point was enough to end my day. The tight quad and knee pain were not completely unfamiliar, something I’d suffered at Bighorn in 2011. I knew how to fix it, but just didn’t put in the time in the gym to properly balance my muscles, so I can only blame myself.

Congratulating Chris and Andrea, both finished UTMB and represented the US and Colorado well.

This season has been full of tough and disappointing races and goals, but this one hurt the worst. Four days after dropping the physical pain has subsided, but leaving those last 60km/3300m of UTMB unfinished will probably haunt me until I get another crack at redeeming myself. After spending all winter recovering from the car accident, having a rough run at Quadrock, not running Hardrock, failing to finish the CO 14ers, and DNF-ing at UTMB it might be time to call this season and move on. My lone bright spot was my victory at the Mississippi 50. I don’t know what next year will bring, I don’t know if will get my shots at Hardrock and/or UTMB, but I do know that I am ready to start anew, get myself healthy and strong, and to try and leave this race season where it now resides, in the past. Special thanks to Hind clothing for supporting my endeavors and Vfuel for keeping me energized throughout all the long runs.

Contemplating my tough race year while on a recovery hike/run high above Zermatt, 9/4/13.