Blanca Hawks

Pic taken from the car window near Blanca, CO

In October of 2017, I got an email that really rocked my world. A small group of folks in the Lawrence Trail Hawks were planning a trip to Colorado in August of 2018 to climb Blanca Peak, which at 14,345 feet is the 4th highest peak in the great state of Colorado, and they were inviting me to come along!

When discussing (pleading) with Deanna whether I should (could) take my first non spouse/family vacation since my 1999 trip with the dudes to Cooperstown, the best reason I could come up with was "It took 53 years before someone invited me to go climb a mountain with them, I may be too old next time".  Not the most convincing argument in retrospect, but it didn't get a solid "No" either. So............I'm in!

The only thing that I knew about camping/hiking at that point was that I know nothing at all about camping/hiking. I did spend many summer nights as a kid sleeping in tents, but the tents were set up in backyards. We didn't have to worry about bears, and if we got hungry or needed to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, the house was 20 feet away. So, I managed to borrow some of the expensive stuff (pack, sleeping bag, and pad), bought a few items (tent, down jacket, bear spray), and searched for a few others (boots, bucket hat, etc.) that I knew I had somewhere. We had a "practice" camp out at Clinton Lake about a month before the actual trip to test out the gear. We did that, and we went on a hike while wearing our loaded packs to see how hard it would be to hike with 30-40 lbs of gear (not too bad on flat ground), but mainly we drank beer, played bean bags, and told stories. Truthfully, aside from the bean bags, this was pretty applicable training.

So came the morning of Monday, August 6th. I drove to the Free State High parking lot in Lawrence at 6:00 AM to meet Al, Gary, and Paul. We would pick up Jeff in Colby. All went according to plan until we were going through Colorado Springs. We'd noticed some dark clouds going through the area, but a check of the radar on our phones looked like we'd miss the worst of it. As it turned out, we didn't miss it by much. After going through town on Highway 24 some pea-sized hail started to come down just as were entering the on-ramp to I-25. A few miles down the road we started to notice that cars were pulled over onto the shoulders in both the northbound and southbound lanes. In our southbound lane the cars rear windows were blown completely out by the hail, in the northbound lane, the windshields were blown out. We noticed some people walking in the ditches and taking pictures of the baseball sized hail. We felt really bad for the folks stranded roadside, but we didn't see anyone that was hurt, and emergency vehicles were coming onto the scene, so we continued on. If we'd been just a few minutes earlier, the trip would've likely been ruined, changed to a search for rental cars, glass repair shops and talking to insurance agents on the phone. We decided that the extra time we'd spent earlier that afternoon taking pictures next to the dinosaur at the Sinclair station provided just enough delay to avoid the worst of the storm. Always stop to smell the roses and selfie with the 'saurs, it may just save your trip.

Selfie with the Sinclair dinosaur in Limon, CO. Photobombing by Paul

We spent that night and the next at an AirBNB house in Alamosa named the Casa Azul. It was perfect, everyone had their own room, and we spent the time gathering the last of our supplies, reconning Lake Como Road (official Worst Road in Colorado), and attacking the buffet at Calvillo's Mexican Restaurant. During the recon mission, we found that Gary's truck could get our fully loaded packs up the road from 7,800 feet to approximately 10,000 feet. So, we would only have to hike with our fully loaded packs (around 40 lbs) less than a mile and a half, from 10,00 feet to 11,700 feet. It was still a challenging hike, but made so much easier by Gary's truck Lil' Red.

So, early on Wednesday morning, there we were hiking up Lake Como Road in front of Lil' Red, enjoying the mountain air and being thankful that we weren't lugging our packs (yet). Once we reached Lil' Red's limits (you should've seen the tricked out vehicles that were venturing further up the road, which got progressivley worse/scarier), we grabbed our packs out of the back and started hiking for real. Even though we're all runners, we were doing some real huffing and puffing up that steep winding road in the thin mountain air.

 Lil' Red on the "easy" part of Lake Como Road

Loaded up and ready to hike! (l-r Jeff, Al, Gary, Paul, Me)

Beautiful Lake Como, CO

We arrived at Lake Como a few hours later and were simply stunned by its beauty. Looking out across the lake, the view is ringed by a mountain ridge that includes Little Bear peak (14,035 feet) with only pine trees visible behind us. The only facilities provided were a few poles with pulley/cables attached to hoist your food out of the reach of any bears that might be close enough to smell it. The bear stories that I'd read from a few years back at Lake Como definitely got my attention. The first question that I had for any hiker that we met was "See any bears?". Luckily, everyone's answer was that they had seen no signs of bear anywhere in the area. We took every precaution that we could anyway (hanging food out of reach, using bear cannisters to hold the food, and burning/washing anything that might smell of food). Since we arrived midweek, we had our pick of the best places to setup our tents, as it got closer to the weekend, there were fewer spots available.

The next morning (Thursday) we got up and headed out towards the summit at daylight. I believe that the route from Lake Como to Blanca Peak is approximately 6 miles roundtrip, with an elevation gain just over 4,000 feet. Much like in Colorado Springs, our luck held and we were treated for spectacular weather (I'm told) for summiting a mountain. I'd say the temps varied from the mid 50's at Lake Como to mids 40's on the peak. The best part was no rain and nearly no wind.

The climb got progressively more technical as we neared the summit. About a half mile from the summit, I was nearing the edge of my comfort zone. My trekking poles which had been so useful the day before for balancing with a heavy pack became more of a liability as we went along. I found that I wanted my hands free to grab for any handhold that I could get on the rocks, and the poles were just tying up my hands. Luckily Jeff was able to stow them for me on the outside of his pack (Jeff also rescued me the day before by loaning me his old belt to keep my shorts from falling down). Gary also found that he had no use for his trusty walking stick at this point, so he left it in the rocks to be retrieved on the way down.

Up, up we go (Al leading, then Paul, Jeff, and Gary)

After a few hours of climbing we reached the saddle between the peaks (Ellingwood Point to the left, Blanca Peak to the right). This was a little scary as you could see the ridge that we'd be climbing to the peak, which looked very steep, but on the other side of the ridge..................was nothing. Well, it was a beautiful view, but it seemed to drop straight down forever. We got two great pieces of advice from some climbers who had just come down from the peak. First, "keep the ridge to your left" (meaning stay below the ridge), and "leave your packs here" on the saddle. Even though our packs were pretty light for this outing as we were essentially only carrying water, some food, and rain gear (with all of the heavy stuff back at the camp), it felt really great to be relieved of the extra weight. I believe that it also made a big difference in keeping my balance on some of the (to me) gnarly climbing to come.

Sitting on the saddle, Blanca Peak behind (and above) us.

A look back at the valley we just hiked out of, Lake Como is just out of sight around the bend beyond the trees.

So, we dropped our packs and headed up along the ridge towards the summit. This section for me, got pretty gnarly as my only previous mountain experience was driving up Pike's Peak about 8 years ago. There are cairns (little clusters of stacked rocks, obviously stacked by humans) all along the trail to point the way, but starting a few hundred yards below the summit, there seemed to be cairns everywhere and no real good route to follow. Al was in the lead and he seemed to be making good progress, but he disappeared behind a big outcropping of rock and we didn't see him again till he appeared on the peak. Not knowing for sure which route to take, we all kind of went into trail blazer mode and started scrambling whichever direction looked safest yet also headed towards the summit. Somehow we all made it though and wow, what a feeling, what a view!

l-r Gary and Paul ascending, Jeff sitting and Al standing on the summit 

I was soaking in the moment as much as possible, but in the back of my mind, I was really worried about going down. I kinda figured it would be like climbing a tree, all fun and games till you realize how high you are and then there doesn't seem to be any way to get back down. Once we started down though, Al found the route that we should've taken up. It was still a little scary at times, but nothing like the "let's take a brief terror break" moments I had on the way up. Somehow, I'd remembered to dig the Trail Hawks flag out of my pack before leaving the saddle, so we got lots of pics repping the only club that would have us as members.

Top of the world Ma! - James Cagney

The trip back down was wonderfully uneventful, until with about a mile to get back to camp it started hailing on us. This was only pea-sized hail, but we had seen what the baseball sized stuff could do, so we all donned our raingear and hung out under a stand of pine trees for a while before heading back to camp. Fortunately our raingear held up well and our tents were dry (with a few minor exceptions), so we all kept dry and mostly napped the rest of the afternoon away. The next day, we had no plans at all, so we just kind of hung out and hiked some, except for Paul, who free-styled his way almost to the top of Little Bear before hitting a dead end. Gary followed him part way up.

Both Gary and Paul are in this pic, somewhere.

I don't know if I'll ever do anything like this again, but I am so grateful that I got the chance. And to do it with this group of folks made it so special and so much fun. I have memories to last a lifetime from this trip, but two stand out right now. The first was looking up at the stars and seeing a shooting star streaking through the night sky. The second is this view, which I had each of the three mornings we were there, while standing on a rock in the middle of a stream brushing my teeth. What a way to start the day!

Sunrise over Lake Como

What Do You Think About Out There?

Words and imagined music by R. Miley

Headin' out to Clinton
Run away my blues
Out at Clinton, don't even need no shoes
Clinton
mmmmhmmmm Clinton Lake

Headin' out to Clinton
If I feel OK
Out at Clinton, might just run all day
Clinton
mmmmhmmmm Clinton Lake

I chased a white tail on the red trail
What I really need is a pale ale
Clinton
mmmmhmmmm Clinton Lake

Headin' out to Clinton
Fight the webs to a draw
Out at Clinton, might even have to crawl
Clinton
mmmmhmmmm Clinton Lake

Headin' out to Clinton
If I feel alright
Out at Clinton, might run all goddamn night
Clinton
mmmmhmmmm Clinton Lake

I chased a white tail on the red trail
What I really need is a pale ale
Clinton
mmmmhmmmm Clinton Lake

Headin' out to Clinton
Run away my blues
Out at Clinton, don't even need no shoes
Clinton
mmmmhmmmm Clinton Lake

Night Hawk 2018, Storms a Brewin'!

There's just something about the Night Hawk 50k! (10 mile, 20 mile, 50k race put on by the Lawrence Trail Hawks on the Clinton Lake North Shore Trails) Some crazy epic thing seems to happen every year. In just its first three years, the race has been run on roads due to muddy trails, there have been several ambulance rides for injured/dehydrated runners, near biblical swarms of bugs, lots of heat/humidity related DNFs (did not finish), and some standing by the fire pit to warm up post-race (in late June!), and this year, a crazy intense thunderstorm that blew through during the race.

I had been watching the forecast on wunderground.com all week to see if the late night chance of rain might diminish. Per it's name, the Night Hawk is run mostly at night, an 8 PM start. I assumed that the heat was a given, as it was forecast for mid 90's at start time and mid 70's around 2 AM with high humidity. On race day though (June 30), our weather radio at home went off, warning of possible severe thunderstorms for Douglas County through 11 PM. I checked the radar and everything looked clear, but we've all seen powerful storm cells just "pop up" when the conditions are right. About 45 minutes before race time, Deanna texted to ask me if we were getting wet at Clinton Lake. She said that at home in Baldwin (about 20 miles SE of Clinton) they were getting 60 mph winds and hail. At Clinton Lake, the sun was shining and all was still, although some ominous looking clouds were visible and the temp had dropped rather nicely.  A last look at the radar before the  race start showed some nasty weather down by Wichita that was headed our way. It was cool enough that I considered carrying just one handheld water bottle, but I opted to stick with my original plan and carry two.

There were around 150 runners signed up for all three races, and everyone starts at once. That meant we had about 50 yards to get sorted into single file as we ran across the open field to the trail head. Not wanting to get stuck in the middle of the conga line, I positioned myself towards the front of the pack. About 100 yards down the trail I realized that I was going WAY too fast and pulled off the trail to let some runners pass, hoping that the next group would be going slower. I repeated this maneuver a few more times before I slowed to a realistic pace. Even then, I felt I was going too fast for a 50k, but dammit, it was fun! This is what is known in certain circles as "going out like an asshole", the saying wasn't invented for me, but it may as well have been. I refer to it as irrational exuberance.

Fair skies and cooler temps for the start (pic by Mile 90 Photography) 

The 50k race consists of three 10 mile loops. Once I got settled into a decent pace, the rest of the loop was mostly uneventful. I had some fun conversations with folks running behind me, one a K-State professor and another a high school teacher from western Kansas (that's him behind me in both pics, in the green shoes). I had to wait for the race pics to go online before I found out what these people actually looked like as they were running behind me in the dark (likely thinking, why is this old dude trying to keep this pace?). The highlight of the loop was the Lands End aid station at the 6.5 mile mark (then 3.5 miles back to the start area), lots of familiar friendly faces cheering everyone on. I grabbed some water, coconut water, a handful of dates, said hello and thank you to as many volunteers as I could, and was back on the trail.

So relax! Let's have some fun out here! This game is fun, OK? It's fun goddamnit. - Crash Davis in Bull Durham (Photo by Mile 90 Photography)

Two things of note did happen towards the end of the loop. First, as I jumped over a log in the trail, I felt my calf cramp up in mid-air, likely from pulling my foot up behind me higher than on a normal stride. I reasoned that this was from running at too fast a pace in the high humidity. The next thing that happened was that Matt (the western Kansas teacher) asked, "was that thunder or fireworks?". It didn't take long to figure that one out. In the last 1/4 mile of the loop, the blue trail runs right along the shoreline of the lake. The temperature dropped and the wind really picked up, you could hear the waves rapidly crashing against the shore, about once per second. There's a section of dead and dying pine trees in this part of the trail, and the wind was whipping the dead needles off of the ground and pelting us as we ran through.

When we got out of the trail to the open area of the start/finish, the storm was going full bore. The rain was coming down sideways from the wind, and lightning was flashing. The volunteers at the aid station were frantically holding on to the pop-up shelter tent to keep it from blowing away, and trying to keep the food dry. I heard one of the runners that was heading back out for loop two mention something about cancelling the race. I was having too much fun to stop, so I filled up my water bottles, grabbed a handful of soggy potatoes and headed back out for my second loop, hoping to get started before the race directors could stop the race. I knew that the race was cleared by the Trails Council even in the event of rain, so I didn't think that the race would be called. There had been so little rain in the past month, that it would take a real downpour to really muddy up the trails. That theory was about to be tested.

Running back out for loop two was quite the experience. The lightning didn't seem very close, so I wasn't very worried about that. Heading out for a 10 mile loop in just shorts and a t-shirt in the middle of a roaring thunderstorm was one of the most frightening, exhilarating, funnest, craziest things that I can remember doing. I was actually laughing when I first hit the trail. That feeling didn't last too long though.

About a half mile along, things started getting sloppy. After a mile, there was a river running through the middle of the trail and I was slipping and sliding everywhere. Apparently wool socks make all the difference when wearing sandals on muddy trails. At the Psycho Wyco in February, while wearing my trusty Kakuetta Trail wool socks I managed to slog through 30 miles of mud and never came close to losing a sandal. But without the socks, my bare foot just slid right off the footbed of the sandals. As I slid laterally, my foot would pull on and shift the position of the straps until I simply couldn't keep the sandals on my feet. I would look down and the strap would be between the wrong toes, I would look down a few steps later and the sandal was hanging off the side of my foot. I'd do my best to step back into them but then the whole process would repeat. I managed to get to the two and a quarter mile mark before accepting the fact that I wasn't going to walk essentially barefoot through 8 miles of mud. I had shoes and socks in my car back at the start, so I turned around and started heading back. After a few minutes, I got to the marina road crossing and told the volunteers that I was done and was heading back in on the roads, and I started walking. Soon, enough mud had fallen off that I tried to run again. My sandals were staying on (barely) on the flat roadway, so I kept running, eventually at a pretty good pace.

By this time, the rain had stopped and I was toying with the idea that I still might be able to finish this race. Then, as I was going up the last big hill about a quarter mile from the start, the first round of leg cramps hit. The double whammy of running the first loop too fast plus slipping and sliding through a mile of mud was too much for me I guess. The change over to running on pavement probably didn't help either. One car stopped and asked if I needed a ride (they were helping with the race) as I was bent over trying to remain upright on the roadside near the top of the hill. I sort of grunted no thanks, that I was way too muddy to get into their car. The cramps started to subside and I made it a few more steps up the hill when a truck pulled up. It was Les, one of the volunteers from back at the marina road crossing. He had come to check on me (I found out later that he had strict orders from his wife Tesa to get me safely back to the start, we really do have the best folks in the world in our little tribe!). I tried to wave him on, but he wasn't going anywhere, he was either going to give me a ride or an escort back to the start. I was determined to walk it in when the second round of cramps hit. That's when Les stopped his truck and I allowed that I would ride in back if he would lower the tailgate. Thank you so much Tesa and Les, I might have just curled into a ball and rolled back down the hill if not for you!

My race was now officially over. Any thought of putting on shoes and starting loop two were quickly drowned out in a few cold beers. I just couldn't face 20 more miles of mud with sporadic stop-me-in-my-tracks leg cramps. There was also the ethical dilemna of having accepted the assistance of a ride in the back of a truck during a foot race. No rule specifically against that that I've read (as long as you run the entire course), and I would've just started loop two over again, but still, the beers sounded better than puzzling that question out.

So now I have about nine weeks left to train for the Hawk Hundred. Training is going great, but my racing hasn't been going too well. After 30 some races without a hitch, I now haven't finished my last two races. Yes, there are very good reasons for not finishing, but it's not exactly how I thought it would go. They say that you learn a lot more from failing than from finishing, and I think that's probably true. I've definitely learned a few things, and I plan to put all of those lessons to good use in September, see ya then if not sooner!

Night Hawk/Hawk Hundred Training

My ankle was pretty much healed and runnable by the beginning of May, but life was busy (graduations and grad parties!) so I got an extended break before really starting to train again. I took a vacation day on May 11 to (among other things) run a Lands End Loop at Clinton Lake, my first since late March. It seemed like it had been a long time since I'd been able to run my favorite trails and it was a great morning out to be out there. According to the calendar, I had seven weeks to get ready for the Nighthawk 50 on June 30, more than enough time.

A 50k, I know how to train for; training for the Hawk Hundred, I'm trying to figure that out. I thought that I was well trained for the 50 mile Rockin' K at the beginning of April, only to find out the hard way that I wasn't. I was in shape to run 50 miles at Clinton Lake or at Heartland (gravel roads), but the rugged terrain of the Rockin' K took more of a toll on my legs than I anticipated, and I was simply too slow for the cutoff times. I now feel that I have something to prove, so hopefully I will do well at Nighthawk and at the Hawk Hundred, then maybe return for a shot a redemption at next year's Rockin' K 50 (we'll see).

Things took a turn for the better in late May. I happened to reach out to a friend and fellow runner asking whether my peak 50 mile training run would be OK to run either 3 or 5 weeks before the Hawk (I have a scheduling conflict 4 weeks before). The response was some questions for me regarding my current mileage, training plan, injury, recovery, etc. Before I knew it, I had a coach working on a training plan for me! My Hawk Hundred coach (not something I thought I'd ever say) is someone I respect immensely with extensive training credentials and some 100 mile times on ultrasignup.com that I can't even dream of. This has really brought back a lot of my excitement/mojo for the Hawk that I lost when I DNF'ed  (did not finish) at Rockin' K. At least now I feel that my training is well thought out instead of just my best guess at it. If I can just put in the effort and stick to the plan (which I'm usually pretty reliable at doing), I feel that I have a very good chance at crossing that 100 mile finish line in September.

Night Hawk training is going well. I now have 5 more weeks to train, and my weekly mileage is increasing. I had one 45 mile week, but then some rains washed out my long weekend runs and I dropped down to a 28 mile week, so I added in some extra leg/core strength exercises. I'm hoping to get a trail run in when we go down to Arkansas next week, always fun to run new trails.

Lake Leatherwood, just outside of Eureka Springs, Arkansas

Aside from the mileage, my training plans always looks pretty much the same regardless of whether I'm getting prepared for a marathon, 50k, 50 miler, or now a 100 miler.  Every training book I've read breaks the days of the week down the same way, which just makes sense for us folks who work M-F. Generally, Mondays and Fridays are off days. Tuesday thru Thursday are relatively short runs in the 3-10 mile range (each day) with varying intensity (some easy runs, some speed work, hill repeats, etc.) Saturday is the long run, usually an easy to moderate pace anywhere from 10 to 50 miles. Sunday for me is generally an easy 10 miler on trails, but can be used as the 2nd half of a back-to-back long weekend run.

I'm now 2 1/2 weeks out from the Night Hawk, and things are going well. My weekly mileage has increased (50 last week) and so has the temperature. I know that it can get miserable for some folks this time of year, but I really feel my best when running in warm to hot temps. For the past several weeks, the high temps have been in the 90's with almost no rain, so the trails are dry and inviting. Unfortunately summer running also means spider webs in the face, snakes, covering your legs in DEET (and still getting bit by ticks), and carrying two water bottles instead of just one. Even with all of that though, I get some weird sense of satisfaction from having sweat dripping off of my soaking clothes. Physical evidence of the effort I'm putting in I guess. I've got a few more 50 mile weeks before tapering a bit for the Night Hawk, currently all systems are go.

This is just the fourth year of the Night Hawk and I'm really looking forward to it. I've been lucky enough to have finished them all so far. The first year (2015), the race course was changed from all dirt trails to about 80% roads because the trails were too muddy from so much rain in June. It rained on us for most of the first loop, which made for some pretty great sky pics from Mile 90.

Stormy skies at the 2015 Night Hawk, photo by Mile 90 Photography

My main memory of 2015 is that I ran at least a 55k instead of a 50k. I zoned out on the 3rd loop and made a wrong turn into the campground by the cabins. The other side roads all return to the main road, but that particular road just circles back on itself. Being tired and unfamiliar with that area, I just kept looping in circles. I finally found someone to ask and they pointed me in the right direction. It should have been obvious, but I was too tired and frustrated to figure it out (hint, just running harder doesn't help).

The 2016 Night Hawk was a war of attrition. The heat/humidity combined to take out a lot of runners. I don't remember the numbers, but I'm guessing that five to ten 50k runners DNFed because of the conditions. I normally don't cramp during races, but my legs completely locked up on me several times that night. The cramps were in my quads and my calves in both legs, sometimes all at the same time. When I felt them coming on, I would grab onto the nearest tree and hold on until they subsided enough to get going again. I adopted the tree hugging strategy after dropping to the ground from the cramping pain and then not being able to get back up. When I finally did get back up, there was a copperhead in the trail about 20 feet onwards. I also tripped and fell a lot that night, likely from all of the cramping. I must've tripped and hit the ground at least 5 times and every time the water bottles would launch from my pack and I'd have to fish them out of the brush. It was a great race (really, I'd do it again)!

The weather for the 2017 Night Hawk was surprisingly cool. I was able to run with just one handheld bottle that night and it worked well. I held back a bit too much on my first loop, but overall was pretty pleased with my time. I don't know whether it was the cooler temps or the sandals (my first race wearing Luna sandals), but I didn't fall once.

The weather looks kinda iffy for the 2018 Night Hawk, it may be another great night for cramps and DNFs. It is forecast to be about 90 degrees at the 8:00 PM start time, dropping down to the upper 70's around 2:00 AM. Unfortunately rain is also forecast (50-60% chance) to move in around 11:00 PM and to last throughout the rest of the race. It's still a few days away though, so the forecast may improve. As a runner I don't really mind the rain and mud (to a point), but it really makes the volunteers and race directors jobs a lot harder. Either way, I can't wait. Here's to bugs, sweat, and beers!!

Rolling a Fat One on 4/20

Ever wash your car and somehow blame yourself for making it rain the next day? Imagine the following words coming out of your mouth during a long run. "I've been running these rooty/rocky trails (at Clinton Lake) so much and its made my feet and ankles so strong that I don't think it's even possible for me to roll an ankle anymore." Yeah, I said that at some point in the past year. Yeah, it came back to bite me.
On Friday (4/20), my running buddy Al and I were about a mile and a half into a planned 10 mile loop on the North Shore Trails at Clinton Lake. I was negotiating a portion of the trail that I've probably run a hundred times before. The trail takes an abrupt left turn as it drops about 3 feet with a little water crossing at the bottom. As I was stepping down, I planted my right foot in position to push off and to the left to jump over the water. I either didn't see the root or just planted my foot in the wrong place because as my weight shifted onto my foot, my ankle rolled completely over to the outside with that root under my foot.
I thought that I heard a snap, but it was likely a stick crunching somewhere because there were no bones broken and though the tendons were really stretched, none of them snapped. I was a little freaked out for the first 30 seconds or so as I assessed the damage, but once I determined that the pain wasn't too bad and my ankle seemed to still be attached, I relaxed. After discovering that I could put my weight on it without any adverse affects, I was able to take a few exploratory steps and then walk carefully back to the trailhead. Thankfully a concerned Al was along for company. I briefly decided that it was OK to run on, and tried for about 20 yards before I thought better of it as the ankle just didn't seem very stable.

About 20 minutes after I rolled it (golf ball) 

After a 3 mile run 4 days later

I've joked that it was really the best kind of injury as I was able to post some really gnarly looking photos showing the swelling and discoloration, but aside from the first few minutes, the pain was negligible, which (for better or worse is yet to be determined) allowed me to go about my usual pursuits while it healed.
I know that common wisdom says to RICE (rest, ice, compression, elevate), but I did none of those things, unless going up and down a ladder for the next few days counts as 'elevate' or an awesome pair of Skyline Shuffle socks counts as compression. I certainly would've gone the RICE route if there was much pain (I need full anesthesia for hangnails/splinters), but since it didn't hurt and I was in the middle of an interior painting project, I kept on painting, although I was very cautious of where I stepped.
As noted above, I ran 3 very cautious miles on it 4 days after the injury, and another 5 miles a few days after that. I've since ran several 10 mile sessions all on roads, the levee, or the river trails. I hope to test it out tomorrow (5/11) on the rooty/rocky Clinton Lake trails, I plan to be slow and verrrrrry careful.

A few random thoughts/observations:

I was immediately relieved that I had someone with me and also that I had my phone. My worst running fear (aside from bears, dogs, mountain lions, and clowns) is to be out on the trails somewhere in freezing temps and snap an ankle. Without anyone around or a cell phone handy, things like lives and limbs could be at stake. I think the temps were in the 40's when I rolled it, so I was in no danger, but I did have to put a few layers back on as I definitely got chilly walking back to the trailhead. Pay heed winter runners!

Inflammation happens for a reason. For the first week or so, the swelling in my foot was not only cool to look at, but it seemed to hold everything in place so that my range of motion was severely limited. It was only after most of the swelling had gone away that I could accidentally or intentionally move my foot in such a way as to cause pain. I didn't take any anti-inflammatories or ice the area as the swelling seemed to be doing a pretty good job of protecting me from myself.

In the first week after the injury, I soaked my foot/ankle in a turkey roasting pan filled with hot water and epsom salt probably four times. I don't think there's any sound medical reason for using epsom salt, but it's what my Mom would've suggested so I did it. It was also a way to force me to sit down for 45 minutes or so. There's no way to tell if it actually sped up the healing, but I do think that the heat helped carry away some of the fluid that had gathered in my foot. My thinking was to keep everything moving and as warm/loose as possible to let the circulation aid in removing all the nasty stuff. I'm also thinking of playing a doctor on television (ba da dum).

I managed to get my hands on some CBD (cannabidiol) oil. It's a marijuana extract (no THC) and it's legal status is Kansas is unclear, but it's available in Ohio (and many other states), plus it ties in neatly with the 4/20 theme of this post. I rubbed it into my foot/ankle for several days and noticed significant improvement in my ankle's range of motion. Whether this was causitive or just happened to coincide with the normal healing process is impossible to know, but many people swear by it's effectiveness. I hopefully won't need it again, but will definitely try it again if needed.

My next race is the Nighthawk 50k on June 30 at Clinton Lake. Between a trip to Cleveland, end of the school year events, and the injury, I haven't been running much lately. That should change soon though and I'm looking forward to getting Nighthawk ready!

My 2018 Rockin' K Trail Run, a Solid "C"

That's the way that the world goes 'round
You're up one day, the next you're down 
It's a half an inch of water and you think you're gonna drown
That's the way that the world goes 'round - John Prine

Beautiful pic of the infamous Rockin' K water crossing by Mile90 Photography (after the ice melted)

The Rockin' K Trail Run is a really special race to me for a lot of reasons. It is also the toughest course that I've been on. I've run the marathon (one loop) version five times (2013-2017), but this year was my first attempt at the 50 mile (two loops) race.

The temperature at the 7:00 AM start was 15 degrees. With almost no wind, it actually felt warmer than the night before at the pre-race meal when the temp was mid 30's and dropping with a freezing gusty wind. Both the pre-race meal and the hour before the start of the race have a family reunion feel to me. So many friends and familiar faces to gab with about (mostly) running or anything really. Mostly we talked about how cold it would be going through the waist deep water crossing and how beautiful the snow would look once the sun came up.

Pre-run pic by John Knepper. Ready for some miles! Love the look of the frozen blacktop. 

(L-R Mary Ann Frevert, Keith Dowell, Me, Shari Hicks)

After photobombing a few selfies, it was time to start. I felt really good through most of the first loop. I kept telling myself to take it easy and not push it, since I would need plenty left in the tank for the second loop. I was hiking up hills that I normally would run and peeling off layers of clothing as needed so that I wouldn't overheat. With 3-4 miles left in Loop 1 though, I started feeling a little fatigued and realized that I was hiking the hills whether or not I wanted to. My Loop 1 time was 5:37, right where I planned it would be, but I wasn't feeling as fresh as I'd hoped.

In the first few miles of this beautiful course, pic by Mile90 Photography, they're awesome!

I've read the Rockin' K race info many times, but apparently had always skipped the part about cutoff times since they only apply to the 50 mile race. About a week prior to the race I finally noticed and realized that cutoffs could be a problem for me. The first cutoff requires that you finish Loop 1 in 6 1/2 hours (1:30 PM). I knew that I could do that as my previous single loop times ranged from 5:01 to 5:45. The second cutoff time is reaching Gate 6 Aid Station in 9 hours (4:00 PM). I felt pretty good about making that cutoff too as long as I wasn't having any major issues. The third cutoff time is to finish the Big Bluff Loop and be back to Aid Station 6 in 10 hours (5:00 PM). That worried me as I suspected that I'd be moving pretty slowly at that point and the 5 mile Big Bluff Loop has always been a beautiful time suck for me. I love that part of the course, but after leaving the scenic bluffs overlooking the Smoky Hill River, I swear that it's all uphill back to Gate 6 Aid Station. I slow down and the clock seems to speed up. The last cutoff is to finish the race within 13 hours (8:00 PM). That one didn't really matter to me, as I figured that if I was able to finish, I would have accomplished my goal of going 50 hard miles to help prepare me for the Hawk Hundred. If I didn't get an official finish, I would be OK with that.

End of Loop 1, pic by Mile90 Photography

In my training, I'd really emphasized being mentally prepared to leave the aid station at the end of Loop 1. I worried that I would be tempted to call it a good effort, grab a veggie burger and a beer, and just hang out with friends. As it turned out, even though I suspected that I wouldn't be able to make the cutoff times, I never doubted that I would at least start my second loop. I did, but I was moving really slowly, alternating between walking and running even on the flats, and my hopes of finishing were sinking fast. An hour or so later, I felt better and was running pretty well again, gaining confidence that I could do it. Eventually though, I was hiking more than running and reality started to set in. You know how every race report at some point says "my quads were trashed"? I don't really like that saying as it seems overused, and I like it even less now that I know what they're talking about. I felt like my legs just couldn't hold me stable enough to run the downhills, kinda like a car with bad brakes. So, at this point, I couldn't really run the downhills or the uphills, I could run the flats for a while, but before long, I'd find myself hiking instead of running. Still though, it was a beautiful day and I was enjoying every minute of it!

I intentionally hadn't looked at my watch all day, but decided to take a peek to see if I could make it to Gate 6 Aid Station before the cutoff at 4:00, it was 3:47. Since Loop 2 is shorter than Loop 1, there is a section of trail called Alexander's Cutoff that the 50 mile runners take on their second loop. I'd never ran that section before, so I had no idea how far away the aid station was. I had just come to terms with the fact that I would miss the 4:00 cutoff time when I popped up over a hill and saw the aid station about 100 yards away. I made it with 5 minutes to spare.

Volunteer extraordinaire Natasha Thomas-North and Race Director extraordinaire Elden Galano at the Gate 6 Aid Station (not pictured volunteer extraordinaire Billy Weaver and countless other extraordinary volunteers, pic by Mile90 Photography)

I could see that the volunteers were starting to tear the aid station down, as any runners that arrived after 4:00 couldn't continue on. After a quick internal debate about continuing, I filled my bottles, grabbed some Oreo's and started off. A few hundred yards down the trail though, I came to the top of a hill and had a good look around at the beautiful scenery (although the snow had melted away), ate my Oreo's and decided to call it a day.  If I was to keep going, I would certainly miss the next cutoff as there was no way I could run the Big Bluff Loop in one hour (probably not even with fresh legs). I really hated the thought of the volunteers waiting another couple of hours for me to finish, but really, I just didn't think anything would be gained by continuing. I'd proven to myself what I needed to for the day, hopefully I'll get another day to beat the clock on this course.

Someone got a finisher medal, I'll be back for one next year. (pic by Mile90 Photography)

I carried a handheld water bottle (just like the one pictured above) for the first loop, and that worked pretty well. I didn't drink a lot during the first half of the loop since it had been so cold (in fact, I had to "chew" on the bite valve at times to clear the ice), but I filled the bottle at the Gate 6 Aid Station and again at the unmanned Gate 2 Aid Station, and had drank the bottle dry by the end of Loop 1. For Loop 2, I put on my hydration pack with my pre-filled bottles of coconut water and chia seeds. I don't really like running with a pack as the bottles in front bruise my ribcage, but I knew that I'd be moving slower on Loop 2 and the weather would warm up, so I'd likely need both bottles. I also wolfed down an avocado sandwich, lots of dates, and a half a bottle of coconut water while using my car as an aid station/drop bag between loops. I thought about switching into dry socks, but my feet felt fine and I didn't want to waste any more time than was necessary. I carried a baggie full of coconut covered date rolls that I munched on periodically. I've eaten dates in past training runs and races, they are a high calorie food that I can eat easily, even when I don't feel like eating.

So, my test score for the race was 38 (miles) out of a possible 50 (or 76/100). 76% is a solid "C" as I recall, basically nature's way of saying "Nice try kid, thanks for playing, hopefully that wasn't your best effort". I should emphasize that "C" is the grade for my race, the Rockin' K gets an "A+" every time, that I've ran this race six times now kind of says it all. Maybe I worried too much about my mental game for this race and not enough about my physical training. I had run 30 miles of Bunker Hill repeats (the Bunker Hillapalooza) just two weeks prior to the race to help prepare me, but Bunker Hill isn't technical (no rocks, roots, uneven footing, etc.) and there is a lot of flat trail in between the ascents and descents. I still felt pretty fresh after those 30 miles, so I assumed that I was ready for the Rockin' K, but I probably should've returned for 10-15 more miles of hills the next day. I will definitely include more technical downhill running in prep for The Hawk as I'll be training on that same course at Clinton Lake (overnight Hawk loops in August anyone?).

The only race that I'm currently signed up for now is the Hawk Hundred, on 09/08/18. I will almost certainly run the Night Hawk 50k in June, but I haven't committed to it yet. I may put up a training post or two between now and September. My current plan is to take it easy for the next few weeks just to clear out the blahs of being in continuous training mode since January. After that I will slowly start building towards hopefully being in the best shape of my life this fall!

Pi Day River Rotation March 10, 2018

I didn't do much running in the two weeks between the Psycho Wyco and the Pi Day Run. I really needed the time to recover after running/hiking 30 miles in sandals through ankle deep mud at Psycho. Even though my feet were fine during the race, I definitely had some stiffness/soreness to work out of my toes, it took the better part of a week for them to feel mostly normal again. I did a lot of stretching and foam rolling over those two weeks, but I only ran three times, twice for about 5 miles each on the treadmill and one easy run of 6-ish miles on the Clinton Lake trails. This seemed to  be about right training-wise, as I felt rested and ready to go for Pi Day.

I'd signed up for the Pi Slam, which is a 5k (7:30 start time) and a half marathon (9:00 start time). Since I generally run longer races (marathon and longer) I train at a fairly slow pace that I can  sustain, so I rarely try to run fast. I would come to regret not training at a faster pace though since it  took the better part of a week for my calves to loosen back up after the Pi Day races. I'm writing this on Thursday after the race, and the lower part of my calves, just above my achilles are still tender. At least I can now walk down stairs without bracing myself on the hand rail.

I was pleased with both of my races. I think that I could've run the 5k a bit faster (25:14), but I held back for the first mile or so. Truth was, I was intimidated by the shirt that the dude in front of me was wearing. I figured that anyone wearing a Hitchcock Experience shirt is a beast of a runner and I'd be foolish to try and pass him so early in the race (I told him about this as we talked afterwards, very nice guy). I just run by how I feel, I don't use a running watch that shows my pace, so I wasn't sure how much to push it early on. After running on his heels for a while though, I figured that I needed to go around him if I could, I know that I don't like anyone following closely behind me for too long.

This is me trailing the Hitchcock Dude (Jody Pasalich), photo by Mile 90

The half marathon went well and I was pleased to finish under 2 hours. I really felt good through the two 5 mile loops. The last 3 mile loop though, I was starting to slow, and I got passed by 4-5 people in the last mile and a half. I could tell by the burning in my legs that I was going to be sore afterwards. My normal running pace doesn't make my muscles burn like that. Going hard enough to feel that burn in a longer race is a definite no-no for me as I'm not really able to recover and will be much slower from that point onwards.

This race is so much fun! I really love running the roller coaster-y river trails, they make me feel faster (for a while anyway). They are such a great changeup from the North Shore Trails at Clinton Lake. No roots, no rocks, no climbs. The weather was absolutely perfect, the swag was awesome, the pie was delicious, and the beer was cold. The race directors (Caroline and Libby) did an awesome job as always, I really love the engraved forks that were given out as finisher medals.

RDs Libby (left) and Caroline (right) presenting me with my Pi Slam shirt, photo by Mile 90

I'm a little apprehensive about my next race. I'm running the 50 mile version (2 loops) of the Rockin' K at Kanopolis Lake on April 7. This will be my sixth consecutive year running this race, but my first time going longer than the marathon distance. I plan to write up a race report afterwards and I intend to bug you about it until you read it. :-)