Change Of Pace

Not a lot going on with my running right now. Just running some average runs each day and trying to accept the fact that the trails are all snowed in and that most of my mileage for the next several months will be on the roads or on cross country skis.

It's amazing to me how quickly I've accepted this reality though. As recently as a week ago the thought of running on roads sounded awful, but now I feel fine with it. I'm going to put in 25-30 miles of road running tomorrow. This will probably be more total mileage of pavement than I ran the entire summer and fall combined. For some reason though I am comfortable with this. I guess it's just another example of how fluidly our bodies and minds can adapt to change as long as we don't get too attached to our fears and pre-conceived ideas about what this change will look like.

Finding My Place - MMTR Race Report

I went into this race having almost no idea what to expect. I convinced myself in the days before the race that I needed to be prepared to accept whatever outcome I found. I had had problems with my hamstring for several days the week before the race and I just didn't know if I had much of my fitness left that I had built up over the summer. My training through the month of October wasn't bad, but at the time it didn't seem very good either. I just kind of ran each day with almost no focus on how far or for how long. Toward the end of the month I thought for certain that I wasn't running nearly as much as I probably "should" have been. Turns out this was completely wrong. Apparently the rest was just what I needed.

My hamstring started to hurt just a few strides into this race. I thought for sure I was going to have to deal with that pain throughout the entire day. Turned out that it never hurt again after the first 20 miles. It also turned out that as my hamstring pain went away my entire body began to feel stronger and faster. I ran very comfortable for the first half of the race. I had a few minor stomach problems in that part but somewhere around mile 20 my stomach really settled and I knew that if I could keep my stomach together that things were going to go well.

At the halfway point I knew that I could thrive on the more hilly and more technical terrain of the second half of the course. I just didn't realize how much I would be able to thrive. I ended up running the second half of this one in 3 hours even! With about 15 miles to go I realized that I was really pushing the pace and it felt really good to go that fast. I really had not raced that fast and felt that comfortable doing so ever in my life. I wasn't thinking much about anything. Just running faster and faster and at times falling quite deep into meditation and at other times a seemingly other dimension in which time seemed to almost not exist. I just ran faster and it stopped seeming like it was taking me either a long time or a short time, I was just running. When it was all said and done it had felt like the easiest race I had ever run. My body felt strong the entire way and my mind felt like it had been in a good place the entire time - never too focused on the race itself, but never wandering too far away and getting too distracted. I just ran, and ran fast, and my mind and body simply allowed for me to do that without getting in the way. It was probably the closest I've ever come to running a perfect race because I never really felt like I was running a race and yet I was able to stay focused on my nutrition, hydration, pacing, and other areas needed to run a successful race. I never actually had to think about any of these things. They just happened. I never really had to think about anything, it just kind of all happened as I simply ran quickly through the forest.

Another Day At The Office?

Kind of, but also a bit more satisfying than just another race.

Won Mountain Masochist 50 a few hours ago in 6:27:55. Not sure where that came from. I really haven't run anything fast in several months. I ran the last mile today in 5:25, probably the fastest single mile that I've run since sometime in July.

As far as races go this one went really well. I felt strong the whole day and I feel really good tonight as I'm hanging out in my hotel room eating everything in sight. I ran with the lead pack - mostly consisting of Gary Robbins, Lon Freeman, Vlamir Nunes, and myself - for the first half of the race, but as the terrain got much tougher in the second half I just took off and really began to push the pace. I didn't even care (or know) what was going on behind me. I was dialed in and I knew that if I just kept myself there that it didn't matter what was going on behind me. By mile 30 I was cutting about a minute and a half per mile off the previous course record splits. I continued to attack uphills as I had all day, but after mile 35 I also really attacked the downhills more than I ever have in any race. And the faster I ran the better I felt. When it was said and done I took more than 20 minutes off Dave Mackey's previous course record. This is obviously a really exciting result to me, but also kind of scary (mostly in a good way). More on all of this sometime in the next few days.

As usual, thanks to everyone for all your support, especially my Dad who drove down from Central New York and crewed for me and got to see me race for the first time since 1995 when I was in college.

Mountain Masochist

On my way to Virginia to run the Mountain Masochist 50 miler this weekend. I have no idea if I'm ready to race a 50 miler this weekend. Honestly I haven't even really thought about it. I'm sure I'll be ready to focus on this one by Saturday morning though. Should be a tough field. I'm not in perfect shape right now. But that's almost always the case. At the very least it'll be exciting to run my first race "back east" and my Dad is driving down from New York for this one, so that'll be exciting for me too.

For those interested you should be able to track the race on this website.

Tongass 100

I've had this idea in my mind for a couple years now, but lately it's been moved more to the front of my mind. I want to put together a 100 mile route here around Juneau that might eventually become an actual race. The route I have in mind would likely be more difficult than Hardrock and certainly one of the most beautiful races in the world.



In it's infancy (next summer?) it would probably just be me scouting out and running the route as a test. If I could get one other person to do it with me I'd be stoked. If it became an actual event I would like to offer a 3 or 4 day stage race option. This way more than just a couple people might actual do it. The full 100 mile route would be so difficult that it might be an event more like Barkley than an actual 100 mile race. Unlike Barkley though this would not be a contrived route of numerous loops charging up hillsides for seemingly no reason other than to be really hard. This would be a point to point route that would be almost entirely singletrack trails and ridge running up above treeline. To connect it all together there would be a few miles of pavement, but other than that it would be running 90+ miles of the most appealing (and challenging) trails and mountains that I have ever run anywhere.

Anyone interested in running it with me next June?

Darkness

The dark season is creeping up fast here in Alaska. It's not getting light in the morning now until about 8:00, and by about 5:30 in the afternoon it's mostly dark. I like daylight. But I actually really like running in the dark.

One of my favorite things about 100 mile races is that you are out for so long that you get a full cycle of darkness, into daylight, and back into darkness. I love the transition points. Dawn and dusk. When I've been running all day and then darkness sets in I feel almost like I'm running in a new dimension. In the daylight I notice myself running over the landscape, but once darkness sets in and I can't see as well I begin to feel like I can't tell where my body ends and the trail begins. It becomes a feeling of connectedness to the land and I feel like I'm being pulled along by the landscape rather than running over the landscape (imagine the moving walkways at airports).

I also really like running in the dark without my headlamp on. It's amazing to me sometimes how well I can "feel" the trail. It forces you to run with very relaxed legs, ready to absorb the nuances of any obstacles you might step on. I think this teaches us to be better runners even when we can see the trail just fine. Sometimes when I'm really "feeling" the trail I can run just as fast without my headlamp on as I can with it on. Give it a try the next time you're running in the dark. It's not as difficult as it sounds.

Ouch

I really like when I take a fall when I'm running. It doesn't happen very often but as long as I don't hurt myself I really like the feeling I get from the transition of being on my feet to suddenly being on the ground. It reminds me how vulnerable I am when running along a trail with roots, rocks, mud, ice, and snow. I almost always pop back up before I even realize I have fallen, and I usually feel a lot better than I did before I fell. I guess part of it is from a rush of adrenaline, but I also think a lot of it is from being reminded of my vulnerability out on a technical trail. There is something exhilarating and uplifting in that. There is something empowering in feeling so vulnerable and bouncing up from it without injury.

Does anyone else like when they fall during a run? Or am I just crazy?

Organic Running

More and more each day I find myself running with a natural, organic, in the moment approach. Whereas my running used to be all about planned hills, distance, tempo, and intervals, I now hit the trail and see where it takes me.

Today I wasn't even that excited to go out for a run. The weather was really nice but I was in a frustrated mood and I kind of just wanted to go home and eat a bunch of food and go to bed. But instead we ran. And we climbed. It was cold and windy up high, but the cool air felt like medicine. Sitting on top of Gastineau Peak I felt whole for the first time all day. And then we began to run down. At first I was too cold to push hard and eventually I just kind of forgot about the notion that I could use gravity to run fast down the mountain. About halfway down though my friend Dan was feeling like playing around and he blew past me making some joke about how slow I was going. And then it was on. We continued into a pace that at most times might seem frantic, but because we had spend 90 minutes "warming up" to that speed it felt very smooth and natural. And so we sped up more. Eventually we were really cruising down the mountain and it felt so nice to think about nothing other than where to place my next footstep on the technical trail. We didn't plan to run that fast, but just letting go and allowing it to happen made for a nearly perfect run that trained both my body and my mind to be a better runner, and a better person, even if my quads are a little sore from it tonight.

I can't wait to see what tomorrow's run brings.

Too Much Work And Not Enough Play

Back in the routine and busyness of life in Juneau.

I'm running more right now than I thought I would be. I'm also working 10+ hours a day this week and I'm getting pretty worn out. I need to get more rest but on days like today the only time I was content and in a good space in my mind was the 75 minutes I spent running. I love that my running can provide this for me, but I don't like these times when I feel like my running is an outlet for being too busy and/or stressed in everything else I do. It's really not sustainable and I acknowledge that. Next week I go back to a normal work schedule of about 6 hours a day so that should make it a lot easier for my running to fit into my life in a more healthy way. From there I'll start running everyday again and move forward toward my next race.

Thinking pretty seriously about racing the Mountain Masochist 5o miler on November 7th but before I can plan on that I need to find a way to make my Alaska Airlines mileage balance grow by about 20,000 miles because there's no way I can afford to buy a ticket with cash right now. I'm working on it. I'm trying to imagine that if I just think about it enough I'll find a way to be able to get out to Virginia. Or maybe I'm thinking about it too much.

And maybe one of these days soon I'll have enough time to post something of interest or value on this blog. Probably not though.

It's Always Sunny In Juneau

I flew back to Juneau today. I indicated in my last post that I was planning to take some time completely off from running. I figured it'd be up to a few weeks. The thing is though that it was a beautiful Fall day today, I was in a great mood, I was done unpacking, and I wanted to go for a run. And so I did. Just a few miles. It felt great. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I'm fully recovered from racing 200 miles in two weeks but I think rather than taking a few weeks completely off I'm going to give myself some active recovery for a few weeks. Maybe I'll run 4 or 5 days a week for a total of 30-50 miles per week. Or, better yet, I'll just run if I feel like running and rest if I feel like resting. That sounds perfect right now. And before too long I'll be getting my mind and body ready for racing again. Haven't decided for certain when and where my next race will be. It might be fun to race out East for my first time ever. And of course there's the showdown in Marin for the big bucks coming up in just a couple months now. Maybe I've even got two more races in me this year. I know my mind and body do, but what I'm not so sure about is my bank account.

Bear 100 Race Report

I had no expectations going into this race. My only intention was to enjoy running all day and try to get some of the stress from Wasatch out of my system.

The good thing about going into a race in this laid back of a mindset is that I was actually able to sleep soundly for 7 hours the night before the race. I didn't feel like I brought my best physical condition to the start line Friday morning but I knew that my mind was in the right place... A much better combination than the other way around.

And so we started. And I ran for about 5 or 6 hours without even thinking once about the fact that I was running a race. I ran for awhile at the start with Luke Nelson and Eric from Montana (never did catch his last name). After the first aid station I pushed further ahead of them and quickly caught up to Zach Gingerich. I ran with Zach for awhile and then pushed ahead and caught up to Troy Howard. I ran with him for awhile and then pushed ahead and caught up to Nick Pedatella. I ran with him for awhile and then we caught up to Leland Barker (race director who had started an hour earlier than the rest of the field). Running with Leland we caught up to Phil Lowery (who had also started early). After I pushed ahead of Phil, Leland, and Nick at about mile 36 I would end up running alone for the rest of the day.

It had been a fun morning of running and chatting with others, but I was kind of glad to be off in front on my own. Actually I didn't really think or care about being in front, but in front is the most likely place to be able to run alone for a long period of time. And I was in the mood to run alone.

I wasn't feeling physically great for a lot of the time after mile 40, but every time I felt weak I would rebound after a few minutes and feel strong for several minutes. The heat started to become an issue around mile 40 as well. It wasn't that hot but I was running out of water between every aid station. I'd fill up with 40 ounces and then hit the trail again, only to finish off this water well before the next aid station. I'm not sure why, but I was drinking a lot more water than I did at Wasatch, even though it was hotter at Wasatch.

Coming into Logan River aid station (mile 69) the heat had finally broken and I was beginning to feel really strong again after an hour long rough patch just before that. And then my 3 minutes at this aid station revived me to the best I'd felt all day. It's amazing what some upbeat aid station volunteers, a can of coke, and a warm cloth to wash off your face can do for one who has just run 69 miles.

After Logan River the sun was getting low and I was really excited to push on into the darkness. One of my favorite things about running long races are the transitions from light to dark or vice versca. It almost feels like you're running in a different dimension when you've been running in daylight for 12+ hours and then suddenly you're running into the faint beam of a headlamp. I love it.

Anyway, I left the mile 75 aid station with enough daylight that I still hadn't turned on my headlamps. Unfortunately just after this aid station there was an important trail junction which was marked with reflectors and tape. It was too dark for me to see the tape, but still a little too light for me to have my lights on so I didn't see the reflectors either. After about a 25 minute detour I was finally back on route headed in the right direction. My response to getting lost for that much time was entirely mellow. I tried for a little while to force myself to be at least a little upset with the time I'd lost since I knew I was on pace for a pretty fast time, but it just didn't really concern me much at all. And there was certainly nothing to gain by worrying about it anyway.

When I got to Gibson Basin (mile 81) I had decided that I was going to start taking in as many calories as I could at the remaining 3 aid stations in hopes of not having to eat too many more gels. After eating more than 100 gels in two weeks (60 at Wasatch and 40 to this point in the Bear) I was simply ready for some real food.

And so I went onto a soup and coke diet and moved along station to station until cruising down to the finish in a time of 18:43.

I felt really worn out for about 2 hours after finishing. I thought maybe this was going to be one of those ones that took my body a few days to feel human again. I slept for about 4 hours though and when I woke up I felt great. My body went into hyper recovery mode and I've just been shovelling in food and liquid ever since, feeling more and more recovered by the hour.

My plan all along was to take 2 or 3 weeks off after this race and then not race again until December at the earliest, but I do have some very tentative racing plans floating around in my mind so perhaps I'll start back at it later this week and see where that takes me.

6 for 6

I completed the Bear 100 in 18:43. Another hundred mile win and another course record. My 6th win in 6 hundred mile races, including the course record on each of the 5 courses I've raced. For whatever that's worth. More than anything though it was just a really great day to run all day. The weather was perfect and that route is as beautiful as any race I've ever done (or at least any race outside of Alaska).

I felt pretty good most of the day. My legs started to feel heavy at about mile 40. I felt great some of the time after that but I also felt really weak some of the time after that.

I never really thought of this one as a race. Rather just an excuse to run all day through some beautiful terrain. I would like to come back and "race" the Bear sometime. With a fresh and focused effort I know I could go well below 18 hours, maybe below 17.

I need a nap now.

I'll probably write up a more detailed report in the next few days.

Autumn in Utah

Went golfing with Karl on Sunday. Let's just say we're a lot more evenly matched as runners than we are as golfers. He had about one fewer stroke than me for every minute that I was faster than him at Wasatch. You can do the math yourself to figure out just how bad I am at golf. I guess I'll settle for that trade though :)

Ran a little over 3 hours in the San Rafael Swell on Monday and I feel like my body is pretty much back to normal and ready to give another 100 miler a go. I'm not going into the Bear with any expectations. I just want to have a fun run through the mountains and see how it plays out. If I'm feeling strong I'll push myself a bit as the day progresses, but if I'm not feeling strong I am going to be willing to slow way down until I come around. Patience is the name of the game for hundreds and I expect to have more patience with this one than any that I've ever run.

Spent the past two days camping and relaxing near Moab. The weather has finally cooled off here. For the first two weeks I was in Utah it was in the upper 80's or 90's everyday but the past 3 days have been in the upper 60's to low 70's. If you've ever spent any time in the Utah desert this time of year, after the summer heat has broken, you know how much of a treat it can be. I've been really lazy (by design) the past couple days, but my mind and my body have felt so content being where I'm at. I'm slowly starting to come a little bit around to the idea of heading back to Juneau next week, but right now I'm super content to be in the warm sun by day and out under the stars around a juniper scented campfire at night. If you too could use a little "Southern Utah medicine" check out this running trip that Karl is leading in Moab in a couple weeks. Knowing Karl, and knowing most of the trails around Moab, I wouldn't expect anything other than a really kick ass time.

The Bear 100 starts at 6am Mountain Time on Friday. Here's a link to the race website and the live runner tracker in case anyone's interested in "following along" during the race.

Running and Love

(This post is long but if I've ever posted anything on this blog that's worth your time this might be it):

For most of this year I've been noticing a change in the relation between my life, my training, and my racing. It's been a very slow change that's been hard for me to understand but I think I'm finally starting to process it and put it together into real, concrete thoughts. Having the race I did at Wasatch (i.e. a performance which shocked and confused me with how fast I ran) has helped a lot with forcing me to look for some of these things which I've been able to feel for awhile now, but have been unable, until now, to put a finger on. Basically my performance at Wastach, and to a lesser degree at Crow Pass in July has forced me to confront the question, why am I running so much faster now than I was just 6 months or a year ago?

It's easy to attribute it to the fact that I'm quite new to racing ultras and that I'm just learning the ropes and still on the steep section of the bell curve. I think there is some truth to that, but I really don't think that's all of it.

Things changed for me a lot after my Miwok disaster in May. I was planning to run either Western States or Hardrock this summer. With my DNF at Miwok I no longer had the option of running Western States, but for some reason my focus didn't ever concentrate itself on Hardrock. After Miwok I took some time off from running altogether and when my mind drifted back around I found that I didn't have any desire to "train" for my next "big race." Instead I just wanted to run. I wanted to run when I felt like it, where I felt like it, with almost no specificity toward preparing myself for my next race. I decided to flow with this mentality for awhile and kind of assumed that shortly I'd come back around to my usual pattern of training to prepare myself for my next race.

We had one of the most perfect summer's imaginable in Juneau this year (weather wise), and instead of my mind coming back toward more specific training, it just kept wandering more and more.

This was June. I decided I didn't really have the focus to do Hardrock so when my spot on the waitlist came up I quietly declined, and to some extent wondered whether I would ever seriously race again. And yet day after day, week after week, I was having more fun running than I ever had. I stopped planning runs more than a few hours in advance, unless I was trying to coordinate something with others. I would get out of work and decide where I wanted to run based on the weather at the time and how I felt at the time. I stopped running on roads altogether. I started climbing up to mountain ridges almost everyday. And I began to run almost everyday with other people that I had previously only run with once in awhile. By mid summer I began to notice this trend of finishing runs, sometimes as often as 4 or 5 days a week in which I felt like I had just done one of my favorite training runs ever.

The time came to race Crow Pass and I had all kinds of doubts about whether my body was anywhere near being physically ready to run as fast as I knew I'd need to win that race. I hadn't afterall done any kind of speed work since April! And then I ran Crow Pass, still convinced that it might be my last serious race ever, and shattered the course record in a race that has been around for almost 30 years. What the hell? That was a bit confusing, but I figured it was an exception, that I just happened to have a really good day, and was aided hugely by having another runner work with me and push me to such a fast time.

After recovering from Crow Pass I decided I was definitely going to run Wasatch and I began to convince myself that maybe I could stay with this approach of having my running be about my training, not about my racing. Instead of training for a specific race and tailoring my training for that race, I realized that for a few months I had been training for me, for love, for happiness, to share my experiences in the mountains with friends, and because it had become my favorite thing to do. No longer was the racing the focal point of my running, but rather the racing was becoming just an expression of me and who I am.

Instead of 5 or 6 of my weekly runs feeling like dutiful training, with one or two really fun runs a week, the scales had turned completely. Suddenly almost every run I did left me thinking, "wow, that was one of my favorite runs ever." I think 90% or more of "my favorite runs ever" occurred in June, July, August, and September of this year!

Going into Wasatch I still had some serious doubts as to whether this kind of general, passionate, heartfelt, but completely unscientific style of training could really get the job done on race day. Obviously my performance in Wasatch did away with these doubts and I've spent most of the past week trying to figure out why this has worked so well.

In a post earlier this year (Ironically, less than one week after Miwok) titled "Why I Run," I talked about being so into running because it was something that was 100% me, and what I got out of running (from a performance standpoint) was entirely up to what I put into. It's shocking to me how far off base this seems to me now, only 4 months later.

As I came to really love my training runs more and more this summer I found myself wanting to share these runs with others. For my entire running career I have been a solo runner. Until this year well over 95% of the running I did was by myself and that was the way I liked it. I always equated running with others with making it impossible for me to do exactly the run, at exactly the pace that I wanted to do. Even when I wanted people to run with me in the past, I was unwilling to deviate much from my training schedule so I ended up running solo because no one wanted to go to the track with me and run 30 quarter mile repeats, or spend their entire Saturday afternoon plugging along on the slushy shoulder of the road for 30+ miles. Now though I am willing to be entirely flexible in my training and this makes it really easy to find people to run with because I can work around their interests.

And so, for the first time in my life, I really began to share my running with others. The snowball effect that occurred was subtle at first, but eventually it became too obvious to ignore. The love I had found for training; for being in the mountains; and for life in general became contagious and almost everyone that I was running with was enjoying their running as much or more than ever:

My roommate had hardly ever run in his life until this year and after a summer of running up in the mountains a few days a week he ended up coming down to Utah and crewing/pacing almost 30 miles of the Wasatch race.

My most reliable training partner this year has been a guy who has lived in Juneau for 50 years. At age 70 I'm pretty sure he spent more time up on mountain ridges above town this summer than he ever has in his life.

My friend who I ran with a bit in the spring, before she moved away from Juneau, is now running more than she ever has in her life, and when I talk to her about her running she has more excitement about it and dedication to it than I would have ever imagined her having.

Another friend of mine who I only ran with a few times before she moved away from Juneau last month has such an obvious mindset to be good at ultras. The first run we ever did together I told her we might be out for as long as 3 hours. When we ended up being out for 7 (the last 3 of which were after dark with no lights and blazing our own trail through thick underbrush) I figured I'd never hear from her again. Instead she calls me regularly to chat about the crazy runs she's been doing since she left Juneau. I know she has put in at least three 30+ mile days in the past month and before that she had never run further than a marathon.

My friend who I ran with once or twice a week in preparation for Crow Pass got himself into the best shape of his life leading up to that race and took 20 minutes off his time from last year, more than twice as much time as I took off from my Crow Pass previous best time.

My ex-girlfriend has never been a runner. Dating me for 8 years probably made her even less likely to run since I made running seem so specific, laborious, and anything but fun. After we split up this spring though she ended up spending the second half of her summer doing several mountain runs around Juneau. I don't claim any credit for influencing her to do this but I do hope that we get to run together in the mountains sometime in the future, something that neither one of us would have ever wanted to do together until now (and maybe she still wouldn't want to) that we actually have an interest in running for some of the same reasons.

I ran a few times this summer with some of Juneau's high school runners. When I was in high school 70 minutes was a "long" run. These kids however would go up into the mountains with me on 3-5 hour runs and love every minute of it. I would have died from doing that when I was that age.

Then there's my friend who refuses to go running with me (I'm still holding out hope that she'll come around eventually), and I don't really think that I've influenced her running in any significant way, but she became so interested in and so supportive of my running as being an extension of who I am that almost continually throughout Wasatch I could feel her running with me. And when it got late and I was really tired I actually had halucinations a few times that she was sitting on the side of the trail.

Anyway, so I know some people who run, and I ran with some of them this summer, and we had fun doing it. Big deal. That's how I would have seen it even just a month ago. I realize now though that this is a big deal. As I ran with these people more and more it forced me to deviate almost entirely from any kind of specific training. And all the while I've become significantly faster than ever before. The only way that I can explain this is that I'm not alone in my running anymore, and that simply having a pure and genuine love for the running that I do on a day to day basis has made me faster than any track workouts or tempo runs ever have. I have influenced people around me with my running more this year than ever before, and their love for their running, their love for themselves, and thier love for me has come back to me ten fold, and made me even that much stronger, happier, and ultimately faster. For the first time in my life I have opened myself up to the idea of letting others influence my running and the result has been an undeniable positive effect.

At the end of the day I very much still ackowledge that it takes a serious amount of "training" to run Wasatch in 18.5 hours or Crow Pass in under 3 hours, but it's been a shocking, and very comforting revelation to realize that, with being more willing to accept the help of others that this "training" can be so much more fun than I ever imagined. And that by having fun doing it, and coming to love the process of it more than ever, and coming to love myself and the people around me more than ever, that I am now faster than ever. I also think it's worth noting that my shockingly fast times in Crow Pass and Wasatch both included other runners (Eric Strabel and Karl Meltzer respectively) pushing me with record shattering performances of their own. In the same way that I have learned to open up my "training" to being influenced by other people in my life, I think it's only fitting that it was with the "aid" of other racers that I was able to run as fast as I did in these races.

I also ackowledge that this idea applies less and less as you talk about racing shorter and shorter distances, but for something as long as 50 or 100 miles I'm convinced that the most important thing to have in your arsenal is a genuine love for your running and a willingness to share this love with others and to let them share their love with you. If you have this everything else you need can fall into place naturally.

I know this might sound like a lot of emotional, sappy, hippy bull shit but I would challenge anyone to give it a try and see what you find out. Throw away your training schedule, find a mountain and run up it. The next day find another mountain and run up it. Once you fall in love with doing that share this love with others. It can be that simple. At least it has been for me.

Next Up?

I've recovered nicely from Wasatch. Spent the past 4 days down in Southern Utah. First just relaxing for a couple days and then doing a 2 day backpacking trip in Escalante National Monument the past 2 days. Feeling good and recovered and ready to check out how running feels again. I'll get out for a short one today and then plan to get together sometime tomorrow with Karl for a run in the mountains. I'll try to put in one long run either Sunday or Monday (3 or 4 hours) and then start to rest up again for The Bear 100 which I'm running one week from tomorrow.

I've had the Bear in the back of my mind all summer but decided that I would not make a decision on it until a few days after Wasatch. I figured my body could be ready for it but I wasn't sure where my mind would be. I feel now though like my mind is ready to run another 100 miler. In fact I think my mind may benefit a lot from running another 100 miler right now. Almost like I "need" another really long run before my mind will be ready to head back to my life in Alaska. This said, I don't think my mind is ready to race another one, but rather to run one pretty relaxed and mellow. I think this will be really good for me right now. My competitive interest may change 30 or 40 miles into the race, but for now I'm definitely approaching the Bear as a "fun run" and as a test to see just how my body can respond to such effort just two weeks after something like Wasatch.

Now I just need to figure out what to do with myself for the next week. Can't decide whether to chill here in Salt Lake, head up to the mountains, or back down to the desert. I guess I'll probably end up going with a combination of the three.