Going to fast

A couple of days ago, I was running down the street on my way to meet some friends.  Why was I running?  "Because if I'm going somewhere, I was running".  The real reason — it was a gorgeous day, I hadn't worked out yet, and I just like to run.  So, imagine this.  I'm running down the sidewalk of a street notorious for two things, students and patrolling police cars.  On this particular day, the students were conspicuously absent.  Gone on spring break.  But, the police car was there.  And as I was sprinting down the sidewalk, I spotted it coming up the block and I involuntarily (sub-conciously) slowed down mid-stride... as if I was speeding!

My bod is giving me all kinds of clues that it is a rest/mini-taper week.  First, every time I stand up, my eyesight blacks out.  Second, my appetite is voracious!  Third, every workout I do,  I want to go too fast, but instead end-up feeling that the workout was too short and too slow.  Feeling this way makes me a little cranky, so wen I hit the track on Tuesday for a short speed session, I decided to see what this old bod could do.  I had a ladder in mind and a couple of speeding guys from the triathlon team to push me.  I got a decent warmup, peppered it with some drills and long strides, then stepped up to the line.  I intended to run a 6:00 mile.  When I went through the first 400 in 1:23 feeling giddy, it turned into a 5:44 mile.  Then, I hit the 1200 with a slightly faster, but still controlled pace.   On the 800, I started out smooth, then came blasting home.  I took four steps into the 400 and crumpled to the ground.

When I say crumpled, that is exactly what I did.  It wasn't from excruciating pain, though.  It was from self-preservation.  I felt a tiny twinge in my quad, and rather than gut it out and possible cause injury.  I ended the workout right there.  No harm done.  But using my super-duper 20-20 hindsight (available at your local pharmacy), I guessed that my warm-up had been insufficient, my stretching non-existant, and my mindset out of whack with my real goal.

It happens.  Hopefully, my going too fast this week will translate into "pleasantly fast" this weekend at the Showdown at Sundown in Vegas.  The race course looks like it has a suitable number of hills (my favorite) and starts in the afternoon (even better).  And, I've been itching to race a triathlon all season.  Plus, it's always nice to see my sister in Sin City.  I don't know if I am going to be allowed to write a post about the race... because what happens in Vegas...  So, I'm going to make a ruling on that right now.  The race is actually in Henderson, NV, and as far as I know, the residents of Henderson are very specific about saying they live in Henderson and not Las Vegas (so says my little sister). Wish me luck!  And look for the race report on Sunday.

Rave Run: Mary's Peak

Imagine a drippy Saturday morning in Oregon. The temp hovers at 50 °F. A forest with trees as big as 5 ft. in diameter. Spanish moss cascading from winter barren branches. Weak sunshine filtering through the clouds, brightening already vivid woody colors and deafening the sounds of our footfalls.

Footfalls? Running... After a home-made vanilla latte at Cafe Petro (more on this someday), Blair and I hopped into the Beeper for its first off-road experience and the 20-minute drive up Woods Creek Rd. to the base of the Northridge Trail. To local mountain bikers, the Northridge Trail is the holy grail, the nemesis, the scene of major whammies, and the source of their best stories. But on this fine morning, we saw no tire treads, barely any footfalls, and heard only the soft drumming of a misting on the branches and leaves far above our heads.

We started out on fire road 2005 heading towards Conner's Camp, passing through the closed gate, we encountered a single track off to our left. We followed this for a bit before it wound back around to the road. Figuring this was where we were supposed to be (running uphill), we turned left on the road again and continued along for a half mile. Something didn't seem right to me at this point (I thought we should be on single track). So, at a flagged tree, Blair and I turned into the woods along a game trail.. a narrow, sometimes non-existant scramble through underbrush, over downed trees, and across creek beds. We ran/climbed/scampered like this for a few minutes... I'm sure Blair was wondering where on Earth we were going. But, I was in charge of the show, the gal with the plan, and he said he was there to follow me. That's a lot of responsibility. Fortunately, I have a natural sense of where I am supposed to be, and before either of us had a chance to question if this was the right thing to do, we stumbled onto the Northridge Trail.

We again turned uphill... and ran for 45-minutes up the single track. It wasn't a "straight-up", but more of a gentle climb along the contours of the mountain. The air got wetter. We ran through pockets of warm air. Occasionally, we had to slow to climb over downed trees, navigate cascading tree roots, and twinkle-toe through rock gardens. And up, and up. For four miles. But it never seemed like too much and we didn't encounter anybody on the trail. At some points, I was running holding my breath as the trail came precipitously close to tossing us down the nearly sheer slopes.

The pace and the not super uphillness gave us a chance to talk. So, as we ran, Blair and I talked about the Beaver Freezer (OSU's annual fundraising triathlon), yoga, Haiti, cooking (he makes tapioca rice pudding by the gallon and I make chicken soup by the gallon), racing as a professional triathlete, and movies. Sometimes, we didn't talk at all, just breathed and ran.

At long last we reached the top of Mary's...at 4,097 feet, it is the highest point in Oregon’s Coast Range and the most prominent peak to the west of Corvallis. In the woods, we were shielded from the weather. At the top, out in the open, it was colder, rainier, and windier, and we were glad when the trail crossed the parking lot and dipped back into the woods. We had taken the short-cut to the top and planned to run down the East Ridge Trail, taking the Tie Trail back to Northridge. However, crossing the parking lot at the top proved difficult as the clouds shrouded one end from the other. We couldn't see more than 50 ft to where we were going, but after a minute or two running the perimeter, we picked up the trail again and started heading down... so we thought.

It was glorifyingly down hill, and we readjusted the hip flexors and quad muscles for the descent. At the junction with the Tie Trail, we encountered our first people of the day. I was focusing more on my footing, calling out my customary greeting to the hikers "Hi, how are you?!" One hiker called out, "Great, have a good rest of your run, Sunny". Which caused me to nearly fall off the trail. I came to a stop and recognized Mel and Eric, a couple from my cycling team, Pacific Power/Blue Sky. We exchanged a few words, not wanting to let the blood cool to much, Blair and I headed back down the trail quickly. A couple of strides in, he comments... "we've met six people total in 7 miles and you know two of them." What can I say? Most of the people I call friends are active. Stands to reason I would see them out on a cold raining day ascending the highest mountain in coastal range. ;-)

At this point, we thought the trail was all downhill. Wrong. Be prepared, you will run about a 3/4 miles more uphill to meet the junction with Northridge. That was the only part of the whole run that was grueling. After that, we bounded, ran, leaped our way down the switchbacks back to the car. The caffeine had long ago been replaced by adrenaline. We found the trail head that we should have used to avoid our bushwacking (turn right on the fire road from the other trail, proceed 9.2 ft). The real single-track came out 100 yds from the Beeper, and then end of our off-road rave run.

Epic.

Reporting back: Part 2 Mac Forest 15k

Thought I would post this before another awesome week-end began, commenced, convened, took root, you get the picture. It's been almost two week, which is just long enough for my hip flexors to loosen-up, my black toe-nails to fall off, and my bruises to turn from nice deep purple to yellow.

Sunday morning. Post-cyclocross crash. Post-early morning mocha. No rain! Actually, kind of sad about this. I joined Dave, Stacey, and Syd at Dixon for a carpool out to Peavy Arboretum (how very green of us). At the race site, I ran into friend's Jeff and Meghan, at which point Jeff informed me that he was going to run with me the entire race (yeah) and Meghan told me about a famous ultra-trail runner woman that was entered (not Meghan). Oh (eyebrow raised)?

They were playing funky-town music over loud speakers to get everyone in the mood. Syd and I got our groove thing on while waiting in line for the Johnny-on-the-spots. Before I knew it, race time was here. I lined up near the front, pretty sure I would be finishing in the top 30 or so.

And we were off... the first part of the course (as you can see from the elevation profile) is somewhat mellow looking. It goes along a fire road for about a mile before diving into single track on Calloway Creek Trail. Then the ankle twisting turns and undulating little ups and downs begin. Jeff was nowhere to be seen, but I settled in with a cute tall guy from Eugene named Rob (he's married and we are now FB friends). He would catch me on the downhills and I would lose him on the ups.

Then the real "up" begins. Someone asked me a couple of weeks before the race if it was hilly. I replied that it was less "hilly" and more just "hill. Again I refer to the elevation chart. My race plan from the start was to run slightly too easy on the first few miles so that I could really work the giant climb to the top of Powderhouse Trail (1300'). And that is exactly how it worked. I missed Rob weakly-jokingly calling out "wait for me", but instead eased into my uphill mojo, passing numerous people. Leaving them to wonder how I was doing it.

Then the downhill started, and here is where I suck. My high center of gravity, long stride, Morton's toe, sense of personal safety all prevent me from letting loose down Bonsai Trail (refer to the 1100' to 500' nose-dive that the course takes which, despite the drawing, does not involve a negative slope or any sort or rappelling). Jeff passed me near the top, with a "I didn't think I was going to catch you" and "Come with me". Yeah, I'll work on it.

Here's the thing.... my realistic goal was to complete the 15K sufferfest in 1:10:00 and to feel really good on that awful last steep climb that comes in the final mile. And I felt great. The PF was a tiny bit sore, thanks to an ankle bauble at mile 8. But, I felt awesome, and I hauled into the finish line, almost catching a few of the myriad that passed me on Bonsai. And I finished in 1:09:36, 32nd overall, and 4th female.

And I had an awesome time. Even more awesome was the noodles and tomatoes and cheese sandwich that I had for lunch and the Sunday afternoon football game that I watched through my eye-lids (napping) that afternoon!

And guess where I got the picture of the elevation profile? The sadistic race organizers who came up with this course put it on the back of the race shirt. Guess they figured if they put it with the course map, no one would race.

101 and the Saturday Rave Run

First, I have no posted 101 times!

Second, I got some running in sunshine!  Runners from the Corvallis Trail Runners, Heart of the Valley (HOTV) Runners (my group), the Corvallis Running Project, and a few other non-affiliates met up at the 29th St. Bumper for a little forest running Saturday morning.  The ultrarunners were putting 3 hrs. on their legs, and some like me wanted less than 2 hrs, so we caught them mid-run coming from town.

Courtesy of the dry weather we have been having, the trails were "mucky" instead of "muddy"... an important distinction that means the difference between having your foot stay put where you plant it and sliding off the trail and catapulting into a tree in an imitation of a person falling from a plane without a parachute.

The first part of our run was a 40-odd-minute slug up to Dimple Hill through Chip Ross and then up Dan's.  Once at the top, we shed layers, regrouped and sidled around on the fire-roads, Hydra trail, a trail-to-remain-nameless that led to the top of Bombs Away, and then finally down Horse Trail back to Chip Ross.  The whole thing was at conversational pace, a total of 11-miles through the winking sunbeams filtered by the trees and ferns.  My longest run this year and it felt great.

All was fine until the last 400 yds back to the cars.  We hit a patch that could best be described as muddy (see previous description).  It came after a hair-pin turn and just after the beginning of a really steep section... Arms and legs went in four different directions as they searched for purchase... I came to rest on two feet (thankfully) about a foot from a barbed wire fence (ooohh... that would have hurt) and best of all, not taking any runners out with me.  Gerhard was behind and he gave me some major props for the save and not pulling a muscle.

After that, I figured I deserved sustenance and awesomeness in the form of a bottomless cup of coffee and a southwestern-style omelette at Zia's on 3rd St.... can you say "mouth on fire"!  I think this may be the second time that I have discovered that jalapenos and coffee don't mix :-)

Rave Run: Gale's Creek, Tillamook National Forest

After the race, I hung out in Portland for the day, watched a crazy costume/flying contraption race, ate sushi, visited Powell's books, and then headed West for a little camping in Tillamook National Forest.  I camped at Gales Creek campground overnight.  My original plan for Sunday was to do a bunch of hikes near the beach, but since I camped in the forest, woke up to such a glorious day, and was feeling pretty rested after my race, I decided to do a little trail running.

Ode to the trail runner:

With shoes that are muddy,

and legs feeling like putty,

I plunge into another gully.

A frolick in the forest,

a valley laid before us.

And the camelback all but empty.

I speed past the mountain bikers.

Narrowly miss the hikers.

And still avoid the poison ivy.

The dirt and root miles,

full of footing trials,

and still I love thee.

With the end of the path near.

I kick it into another gear.

And exit the trail with a finale. 

Sorry about the bad poetry.  Solitary adventure inspires my creative bones (or maybe my not so creative bones).  Anywho, Gales Creek Trail was listed in the Honorable Mention section of the coastal hiking book I had brought along.  Probably because it offers no view of the ocean, only scattered vista views of the forest hills, and would normally be infested with mountain bikers.  However, over the winter, the area experienced a ton of flooding that took out parts of the trail and the forest service actually closed the most of the section of Gale's Creek that is North from the campground for repairs and debris removal.  Other trails in the area were similarly affected (or so I would find out), likely keeping many a would be trail patron away.

No matter, I checked out the trail maps at the Trail Head for the South trail and it looked like I could make a pretty sweet trail loop by running up as far as I could go North on Gales Creek, catching the Storey Burn Trail to Gravelle Brothers and University Falls (the halfway point), circling around on River Wagon Road Trail to Nels Rogers and finishing by running back to the campground on the South Gale's Creek Trail.

I packed up the 2L camelback with water, camera, bright orange jacket (just in case I get lost, shot at, run over by ATVs... what could possibly go wrong?), first aid kit, hand-drawn map from the trail sign post (see below), Cola Clif Blox, a Mixed Nut Mojo Bar, and a Justin's Nut Butter Cinnamon Almond Butter and Marionberry Jelly Bagel Sandwich (a.k. J.N.B.C.A.B.& M.J.B.S.).  And I was off.

My awesomely incomplete map of the trail loop.

Gales Creek and Storey Burn were gorgeous.  I wound up through the creek-way, up and over several vistas.  There were breaks in the trees that afforded expansive hill-side views of the forest.  Sunlight dappled through the tress, creating a scene with every green color imaginable.  Imagine a 96 Crayola Crayon box with only green hues.  There were purple and red and yellow and pink flowers dotting the forest floor.  The footing was mostly pine needles and lomey dirt with the occasional rock or root.  I had to stop several times to take pictures it was so gorgeous.  And not a sole, nor a sound not made by me or nature.

How can you not love this trail?

I came out of the forest to cross HWY 6 and head along the Gravelle Brothers Trail.  And then there was a tiny problem.  Well, actually a big problem.  The trail was closed, but it looked as if another trail off to the left may have taken it's place and it headed in the general direction of University Falls.  I had only been running about 35 minutes at this point, so I figured, what could it hurt.  After all, according to my hand-made map, the falls were only half a finger away (half a finger corresponding to approximately 1.5 miles).

The trail started off nice enough, but soon became pretty technical with small logs and roots.  Clearly, enterprising mountain bikers wanting to make the loop had forged this trail.  I would have a had a difficult time riding it, much less the ankle-twisting, toe-stubing, high-stepping semblance of running that I was trying to accomplish.  Full on 30 minutes later I arrived at a sign that said "University Falls" with a hand-painted picture of a water fall.  But, at this point there were three trails that converged... and my awesome map only showed one trail.  I scratched my head for a few seconds, realized why the guide book had stated in no uncertain terms "consider taking a topographic map of the forest with you on any excursion", and finally decided that after a solid hour of running, I would simply back track along the trail-that-is-not-named and catch the Eliott Creek OTV trail to the tip of Nels Rogers.

I didn't at the time know what "OTV" stood for.  But, I found out... It stands for over-sized, tank-like vehicles.  No really, this trail was mostly fire road and double track.  As I was finishing up on it and crossing over HWY 6 and back to Gales Creek, it seemed like the entire population of Oregon that owns an ATV had convened at this trail head.

Needless to say, I was super glad to get back on the single track.  I chatted up a mountain biker on the trail about his ride and almost ran up on two other mountain bikers that had started descending the trail a few minutes before me (in their defense, it was a hugely technical downhill for the MTBers).  All-in-all, it was a 2:00:07 run not including the few stops along the way to take pics, chat, and consider taking a better map.  Before the summer is out, I'ld love to take my mountain bike and my trail shoes up here again and explore some of the other trails, including the River Wagon Trail that I didn't make it to.

Rave Run: Hall Ranch

Thursday night I had a date. A friend date with Amber and Eric. Men take note.... this was pretty close to a perfect date (aside from the obvious lack of smackers).

We had decided earlier in the week that Thursday would be our night. A 1:30 trail run was on the Ironman training schedule and a quick consultation of my training plan (primary goal: enjoy vacation to the max) revealed that our objectives coincided beautifully. And so at 5:00pm MST, A&E picked me up at the World Headquarters of Zeal Optics (where I had just secured an awesome pair of Zeal Zektor sunglasses in wood/green, the latest addition to my collection of sweet eyewear), and we headed North to Lyons, CO and the Hall Ranch Trail head.

Rave run background: Hall ranch is a popular destination trail for Boulderites and the pride of the Lyonsians. It is far enough out of the way (a few miles West up St. Vrain Canyon) to make it relatively uncrowded most of the time. E and I took bets on how many bikers/horseman/other bipedal transporters we would see on this particular evening. He picked eight bikers, I picked two bikers and two horseman. I think he had inside information.

There are a couple of ways to run Hall Ranch. We chose to run up the Nighthawk Trail, a no-bikes-allowed-unless-you-swear-that-you-walked-it-the-whole-way trail that winds somewhat gently uphill for four miles, traversing high desert prairie and the occasional scrub pine stand. It has amazing views of the red mesa cliffs carved by the St. Vrain creek and I had to stop on more than one occasion to "drink in the view" (code for drink in some oxygen while "gasping" at the view).

Up top of the mesa, we wound around Nelson Loop, choosing the westerly route for its views of the old Homestead (I am pretty sure each side of the loop is equally beautiful and equally downhill). We saw our first bikers on the loop... six to be exact. I had already lost my bet with Eric, but I was beginning to wonder what was going on, especially with what I remembered of the trail ahead.

We proceed along the Bitterbrush Trail, the mountain biker access trail to the Nelson Loop. More mountain bikers passed us on their way up. With just a few miles to go, the trail which has been rolling gradually downhill to this point, takes a sharp dip down and looks more like a bouldering adventure than a running or biking trail. And then I see it, an "emergency access and authorized vehicle only" fire road that MTBers can take to completely skip out on the expert section of the trail that would keep riders like me off of Hall Ranch. Ahh-hah! You still have to ride up a steep hill, but you don't have to have full pads and major kajones to ride up or down. There were a couple of brave MTBers trying to ride up the hard stuff as I bombed down the trail on foot. And then as I came around a bend, I almost ran into a couple of horses and riders in full gallup mode. There was never any danger, but jeez-my heart-rate went up a few beats. So, at least I won that part of the bet with E.

Back to the date: We all finished somewhere around 1:30 and piled into the car. Nearer to town, we soaked our legs (and, yes, washed off the sweat and dirt all over) in the St. Vrain Creek. We then descended upon the Oskar Blues Pub/Microbrew for some fine dining and even finer microbrews. Though, I've always been a fan of their beer, I've never been to the pub (that I recall) and I drank in Leroy's Brown, an ale that is only offered in the pub, and munched on Nachos Blue and a perfectly spicy chipotle burger with sweet potato fries and black bean salad. Yum-yum!