Living the Dream

In Which I Discuss the Finer Points of My Perspective

2012-03-07T10:34:00.000-08:00

I have never considered myself a runner. The confines of categorizing myself have always been too intimidating to think of myself as any one form. I have always refrained from saying I am one thing because doing so seemed to narrow the possibilities of the future. Thus, though I have spent a lot of time running, I’ve never thought of myself as a runner.

Ultrarunning for me arose from a desire to climb alpine peaks. I was entering the climbing world and overwhelmed by the amount of gear, knowledge and experience required to complete great objectives. But the desire for adventure burned harshly, and ultrarunning became a way for me to challenge myself in the way I sought from alpinism, but without the technical requirements. I knew how to run, and the mountains were in my backyard. So I took up long distance mountain running and, as my competitive nature tends toward great ambition, I tried to be the best. Though I am not great, in the ensuing years I have worked hard to hone my skills and have found some success. But the more important effect has been the transformation of my character. At first I trained because I wanted to do well in races and training was the way to achieve that success, whereas now I train for those reasons but also for the sake of training in itself. To say I didn’t enjoy training when I began ultrarunning would be false but I have since developed a more three-dimensional acceptance of the exercise. Running has become an end in itself.

I took this winter off of running because I trained very hard last year and wanted a break. My goal was to run when I felt like running and only begin training when the motivation returned. Last week, on a short run in downtown Denver, that motivation returned. This week’s sharp increase of mileage compared with the extended hiatus of the past few months has convinced me that training is an essential component of my happiness. Working hard for a healthy goal out-of-doors makes me feel very good, and at this point in my life I am trying to pursue those things that provide happiness, because anything else seems pointless. Whether my love for long mountain runs grew on its own or in response to the dual elements of racing and the ultrarunning scene I do not know – the likely answer is a bit of both. But now I can genuinely say that running, alone or with friends, on roads or in mountains, while racing or training, is one of my primary sources of pleasure in life, for no other reason than that it makes me happy.

My path has ranged from using ultrarunning as a means to challenge myself in the mountains to embracing the sport for its own reasons. Ultrarunning has never had the substance to stand on its own in my eyes because I was merely using it as a stepping-stone to greater mountain endeavors. But while I will still pursue climbing wholeheartedly in the future, running has earned my respect. Even without all the wonderful people I have met through the sport and all the amazing places I have seen, running needs no justification for me beside its inherent nature – movement, effort, challenge. Through this I have seen real beauty and felt real happiness, and I count myself fortunate to have done so while young. So I will now concede, after three years of running ultramarathons around the country – and, indeed, the world – that, yes, I am a runner. And by saying so I do not limit my opportunities but instead embrace something very rare and good. The foundation of my character begins.

That’s probably enough about me. If you’re looking for a new role model for yourself or your children I’d like to recommend Geoff Roes. As the course record holder at several major 100-mile races we always knew he was incredible. But 350 miles on foot in the Alaskan winter has cemented his status as an ultrarunning hardman. Please hand him a cookie next time you see him.

The Clif Cookbook

2012-01-26T22:23:00.000-08:00

Current Events

2012-01-09T22:16:00.000-08:00

Life is good. More to come.

Nick Clark is So Damn Fresh

2011-12-21T10:10:00.000-08:00

It's the end of the season and you know what that means: it's time to rank every runner in the sport and decide who is the best. This time-honored tradition of taking an outstandingly varied series of races and comparing them as equal has been recognized year after year as the de facto standard of distinction among ultrarunners, and this year has shaped up to be one of the most excitingly debatable fields in history. The people need to know who is the best and who wasn't good enough, because how else would we have enough to spray about online? With no prize money and little distinction, it's the most ridiculous competition in the world! But it matters A LOT. So I'm going to jump right in with my opinion.

My opinion is that Kilian Jornet should be ultrarunner of the year. A look at his race schedule as compared to that of literally every other ultrarunner shows clearly that he's the best right now. Go ahead and dispute me - I'll fight you. Online. In Pocket Tanks.

However I have recently learned that, due to a technicality apparently designed to protect American egos online, Kilian isn't eligible as Ultrarunner of the Year. At first this puzzled me until I remembered that Europeans don't use time and thus can't understand the concept of "years". Europe, of course, operates without the binding consequences of chronology or even regular physics, which may help to explain why the whole Salomon team is so fast - it's called quantum tunneling. Look it up. This also explains why European history never made sense in high school and why they always look so damn fresh.

So Damn Fresh!

Actually, I just made all that up. Can you believe it? I lied to you. Sorry. But I'm not lying now. Listen. Kilian can't be Ultrarunner of the Year because we cleverly arranged our rules to exclude him. This is not so appalling when you consider that we totally don't have to stop there! If we can exclude Kilian because he's so damn fresh then we can seriously exclude anyone we want. All that's required is a tightening of the rules. Right now we're considering "North American Ultrarunner of the Year", but I think we should go with "Western U.S. Ultrarunner of the Year", or even "Colorado Ultrarunner of the Year." In fact, to hell with pretense, let's do "Fort Collins, Colorado Ultrarunner of the Year", that way I will win....or Nick Clark will. Damn it Nick! How about this: "Myrtle st. between Loomis and Grant Ultrarunner of the Year". That's totally me! I want a full page magazine announcement and a huge party.

This reminds me of Nick Clark. He caught on to this idea years ago with Fastest Known Times, or FKT's. As a result he is the proud owner of approximately 65% of the the records on the FKT Website, including Nick's House to The Top of Horsetooth Rock, Nick's House to Nick's Car and, my personal favorite, the untouchable Nick's Bedroom to Fridge Traverse. Being an Englishman and therefore extremely sensitive, he quickly realized that by narrowing the records down to the most random, unrepeatable combinations of his own personal strengths, nobody could touch him. This has driven him to link up preposterous routes like the Western States 100 and Hardrock 100 in barely two weeks. And now I'm going to switch to being serious. Nick's combined runs at Western States and Hardrock were on par with the most impressive feats I have seen performed in this sport. Seriously. I've never run Western States, but I assume it's awfully hard, especially when you run hard enough to take third place among the best competition in the sport. But then to come straight to Silverton and run Hardrock for third place? Unreal. Combine this with his burly course record at Jemez - which, actually, plays into this whole "Nick has low self-esteem" thing I'm going for. You know he set the course record and then lit the course on fire? Great sportsmanship dude - and his stout new record at the Vertical Beer Mile and you've got a pretty clear case for the best in the sport, in the country, in the area. However that works. Nick deserves serious recognition for his accomplishments.

I googled "Nick Clark" and this was my favorite of the results. I assume this is from his pre-ultrarunning days

Seriously, if he had run that double in September this would be a no-brainer. But Western States and Hardrock were long enough ago that people have forgotten the gravity of what he did. But those of us who were there with him - we can never forget! He made us look bad, and that means we also can never forgive. But that's another story entirely....

Anyway, this has been one hell of a blog post, huh? We've laughed, we've cried, and through it all we gained a little more respect for each other. Actually, I'd be surprised if you weren't livid right now. I have said almost nothing of value and you read it all! Ha ha ha! What an idiot! As we move into the next phase of this blog post - the comments - please keep in mind that I'm only interested in negative comments. Constructive criticism is not welcome here. Neither are corrections, suggestions or overwhelmingly personal displays of affection. Basically, I want my comment thread to look like the one on Nick Clark's blog after UTMB, when he dropped out for his own reasons, blogged about them on his personal blog, and was ripped apart by people with differing opinions. Also, make your own choice but vote for Nick Clark. He's so damn fresh!

"People wouldn't comment like that if they knew how fresh I am!"

The Travails of Outward Bound

2011-12-11T13:57:00.000-08:00

Outward Bound needs your help. I just received this email from good friend/Outward Bound instructor Cisco Tharp:

"OB is kind of in a tough spot these days, so I wanted to share some info with you (see below). Basically we need to raise a bunch of money to continue offering courses in 2012 because our National Organization (OBUSA) disintegrated. So, if you or anyone you know feels like spreading the OB magic for generations to come through a donation, now is definitely the time. We could use help spreading the word to families and friends."

Below was this announcement:

Please Help (re)create Outward Bound!

Hello, friends. Outward Bound has recently split up its national level of organization into independent regions (so, kind of like the old days). Our region, the Rocky Mountain Outward Bound School includes the Denver urban center and the Utah rafting, canyoneering and backpacking program out of Moab. Our new school, RMOBS, and its board of directors now oversees our own programming, facilities, and fundraising.

The big mothership (OBUSA) didn't leave us with much to work with financially, so we need to raise $500,000 by Dec. 31st to start programming for the 2012 season. The non-profit Friends of Marble has pledged to raise $200,000. Any amount helps. If any of you have felt the transformative power of Outward Bound, please help ensure that future generations can have this experience.

To Donate and learn more go here

I took an Outward Bound course at sixteen and was impacted powerfully. My group spent three weeks backpacking and climbing through the mountains of Central Colorado, learning to live only with what we needed, eschewing everything unnecessary. The experience was powerful enough that I could attribute a large part of my love for the mountains to the connection I made with them during my OB course. The course made me appreciate the natural landscape in a way that is impossible to replicate from a car, or even a day hike. I learned about the wilderness, and this taught me about myself and others. We learned survival, leadership and trust in ourselves and each other. I wouldn't trade that trip for anything.

But now this organization which has brought so much good into the world is falling apart. Without donations from concerned parties Outward Bound could fall into disrepair and possibly disappear altogether. If you have taken an OB course yourself or know someone who has then you'll know how important the organization is - they are creating a better world through deeply personal interactions with people and mountains. Please consider donating to them, because they are one of the few groups out there right now who are creating solutions. Check out their website at www.outwardbound.com and think about donating here.

The North Face 50

2011-12-04T10:54:00.000-08:00

This is why I said my record last month at the Grand Canyon was soft: because I ran it with no competition. Hypothetically, if a lot of fast people lined up for a run at the Grand Canyon, the record would drop by an hour. That is the power of competition.

This was proven yesterday in Marin County, California. Several of the fastest runners in the sport lined up to test themselves against each other on a difficult course, and the level of competition was higher than I have ever seen in an ultra. That's not to say yesterday's race was the most intense of any ultra ever, but I have never been able to keep up with the pace at races that fierce. I would never have run that fast without the constant pressure of the other runners. Geoff Roes, Mike Wardian, Ryan Day, Alex Nichols and others - great race. But most of all, congratulations to Mike Wolfe. We ran together all day long and it was UNBELIEVABLE! He is an amazing runner and I'm happy to have been able to keep up as long as I was. Despite my best efforts he ultimately pulled away from me, but that is absolutely OK. He ran a better race and deserved the win.

Stay tuned to irunfar in the next week for my full race report and other post-race reflections from the competitors. And in the meantime, keep running like this guy.

He didn't even slow down after I hit him in the head with a rock

Grand Canyon

2011-11-06T17:27:00.000-08:00

These are a few of the photos I took this weekend while in the Grand Canyon. I went down there with six friends to run the Double Crossing from the South Rim to the North Rim and back again, and managed to squeeze out a record in 6:53:38.

The FKT website says Dave Mackey was held up for several minutes during his record run on the way back up the South Rim by a mule train. A similar thing happened to me, except that instead of a mule train I was held up by being astoundingly tired. I ran hard, but never felt like I was approaching my comfort zone until the final climb, when I entered the suffer zone and then fell into the abyss of despair. From the few reports I have read as well as my own two experiences running the Double Crossing, two facts seems to be permanent for all runners: 1.) Nobody goes into it rested. Everybody just runs the Grand Canyon as a training run, or in between races, or when getting back into shape. Nobody trains and tapers specifically for the Grand Canyon. 2.) You're going to blow up on the ascent back to the South Rim. Stop deluding yourself - it's going to happen. You can't avoid it. However, I will stick my neck out and say that a fit and rested runner who finds the Canyon in good condition could significantly lower the time. My prediction is that within five years the men's record will be under six hours. Go ahead - call me out on that. It will happen.

The Grand Canyon is aptly named, and my only disappointment from this weekend was not being able to spend more than a day exploring its labyrinthine complexity. Saturday's run was made even more interesting by the unpredictable weather. We woke up on Saturday morning to about four inches of snow on the South Rim and subsequently encountered several more inches and lots of ensuing mud on the North Rim, but nothing too bad. Mostly we were treated to cool weather and stunning views rendered even more profound by the two thousand feet of crystalline snow descending from the top of the rim. The desert is so unique that anomalies like that just seem to enhance the experience. But this trip was mostly worthwhile not just because of all the canyon running, but because I got to spend so much time with so many cool people. Aaron Marks, Brenden Trimboli, Stephan Young, Brendan Goetz, Brandon Stapanowich and Carson Rickey are all super cool people to share a road trip and a single small hotel room.

Technical Details:

Total time: 6:53:38
South Rim - River: 49:00
River - North Rim: 2:33
North Rim - River: 1:50
River - South Rim: 1:41

Moving Forward

2011-10-26T08:48:00.000-07:00

This is what my house looked like this morning. Notice anything odd?

That's right - there's snow everywhere! Winter has arrived here on the Front Range of Colorado and I, for one, am determined to embrace it. To begin, this morning at 6:30 I got up and put on my "3/4 tights" or, as the rest of the world calls them, manpri's. With them and a few other choice pieces of gear I went out into the snowing darkness fully fashionated, and ready for anything. The result was a really cool run on both roads and trails that had nearly a foot of snow on them. My run today was a new adventure on an old route, a new perspective on a run I do bi-weekly. Changing seasons are very cool.

So I have begun training again. I took most of September off and then started running occasionally whenever I felt the urge, and this ended up totaling around 60 miles per week for the past three or four weeks. But now I'm "training", which means I have a somewhat more regimented schedule and basically a compulsory run every day. But I like that! I want to run! I can't express how good I have felt since taking time off. I ran very little during the month of September, and then slowly built my fitness back up over the past few weeks. Now I'm training hard and feeling good. This confirms the fact that you have to lose fitness to gain fitness, inasmuch as you cannot continue to improve forever. Every endeavor has peaks and valleys, and if these are managed consciously they can maximize performance on every level.

My next race is The North Face Endurance Challenge in San Francisco on Dec. 3, where I will run fifty miles as hard as I can and then turn 21 two days later. A friend pointed out that "thank goodness it's in that order!" and I couldn't agree more. Post 21 my focus will move towards skiing and ice climbing for the winter. Then, when the weather gets nice again, Hardrock training will begin, assuming I'm accepted. If not accepted to Hardrock, plan B will be to....rail endlessly against that race's management? Start taking school seriously? Take up an instrument? One thing is for certain: if not accepted to Hardrock, I'll immediately quit the sport and hold a grudge indefinitely. But in the meantime, barring weather anomalies, I'll be headed down to the Grand Canyon in a week or so to give the Double Crossing another shot. I don't want to seem arrogant, but I will say that Dave Mackey's record is slow and he is a B-grade trail runner at best.

The blurry guy in front? Total wuss.

Now.... Let's hope I don't have to eat those words.

Nearing the Vertical

2011-09-18T10:45:00.000-07:00

I want to climb mountains. And that goes beyond running.

The time I spent in Chamonix in August drove that point home. Despite the incredible advances in equipment and techniques over the past thirty years, some mountains cannot be climbed in running gear alone. Even the shift of mindset that has allowed people to climb peaks like Mont Blanc in running shoes with no gear can only extend so far. The peaks of Chamonix are so fantastically vertical that nothing less than rock shoes and a rock climbing focus can surmount many of them. Runners can only go so far, until the vertical takes over.

Les Grandes Jorasses. On my last day in France I jogged up near where this photo was taken, which included several miles on glacier. But that's about as far as you can get running. Look at that thing!

The general mindset in the climbing world has migrated steadily over the past half-century towards alpine style, which means light and fast climbing up big mountains that historically have taken many days and large amounts of supplies to climb. Ueli Steck is a good example of this ethos. He just spent the spring climbing 8000 meter peaks in the Himalaya in single pushes that generally took less than one day. All this on peaks that were first summited by parties containing ten or twenty climbers and hundreds of porters carrying thousands of pounds of gear. Similarly, Alex Honnold's free solos up some of the most frightening rock faces in the world illustrate the new extent of "light and fast". Yet no matter how slow you are, running has always been light and fast. A pair of shoes, some clothes and a water bottle are really all that are necessary to move long distances in the mountains. The climbers that push the boundaries of alpine style utilize a mindset very similar to running, whether they know or not, in that they work as simply and efficiently as possible. In a sense, they are climbing in a running style. People have come from the other end too - running in a climbing style. Alex Lowe and Rolando Garibotti's times on the Grand Traverse in the Tetons are mind-bending. That's a route with major technical difficulties the entire way and a 5.8 crux up the north ridge of the Grand Teton. Jared Campbell has also done much in this style, such as his super-fast climb up the West Slabs of Mt. Olympus in Salt Lake. The list of examples goes on.

The face above the shadowed gully. Jared literally ran up it

So with this in mind, this morning I drove up to Rocky Mountain National Park to the tunes of Ellie Goulding to try the Glacier Gorge Traverse. The route connects most of the major peaks in the park, beginning at the Bear Lake parking lot and climbing up Flattop Mt, then on to Hallet Peak, Otis, Taylor, Powell, McHenry's, Chief's Head, Pagoda, Longs, and Storm Peak. The whole route is something like 20 miles and roundabouts 10,000 ft. of uphill, but what attracted me was the technical nature of the route. Much of the route maintains difficult class four climbing, and several sections boast climbing difficulties up to 5.7, particularly the west ridge of Pagoda Peak. Such a combination of intermediate-difficulty alpine climbing with huge exposure in a remote setting is ideal for my tastes. Of course, when compared with the examples listed above, this traverse is about as serious as jogging along the top of a tall fence. But the aesthetics of the route are perfect, and a good introduction to more serious climbing in the future.

So while standing on top of McHenry's peak last weekend with Ryan Burch and Nick Clark I resolved to do the traverse as soon as possible. Thursday was the first option, but consistent poor weather from Wednesday through Friday thwarted that attempt. Watching the weather report, today (Sunday) was supposed to be beautiful, so I switched my plan accordingly. Unfortunately, Saturday turned out to be rainy all along the Front Range, and the reports from the Run Rabbit Run 50 in Steamboat Springs contained lots of words like "rain", "snow and "hypothermia". For those of you who don't have their maps out, Rocky Mountain NP would be right in the damn middle of the the Front Range and Steamboat. But hell! Sunday's weather was supposed to be nice!

And it was nice. But winter had beat me there.

The wind was fierce and constant, and my face and legs were quickly red and burnt from microscopic bits of snow and ice in the air. These photos are only from the climb up Flattop Mt - which is as far as I got. The last two miles of trail were a continual layer of ice with intermittent deep snow on top. The temperature was low enough to freeze the surface of the water in my handheld. And you know what? I loved every second of it. The mountains in the NP are merciless, but they exhibit the raw beauty of high mountains and all to which they are exposed. Most striking today was the glowing golden granite of the steepest faces juxtaposed with the new dusting of snow.

The ridge off Hallet Peak, with the flanks of peaks that comprise the Glacier Gorge Traverse

Hallet Peak, with Longs Peak looking over in the background

I turned around without hesitation at the top. The conditions were sufficiently wintry to convince even the hardiest of runners that an exposed 20 mile technical traverse almost completely above 12,000 was a poor idea. At least not in running gear. Perhaps with some minimal gear and a few more clothes... But such are the limits of running.

I still haven't given up that the route can be done this year. Colorado has notorious weather swings, so the park may well experience summer weather long enough over the next few weeks to put the traverse back in condition. Until then, I'll be researching lightweight ice tools online.

Europe

2011-08-31T13:51:00.000-07:00

I would like to be the first person to point out that upon hearing of UTMB's delayed start on Friday afternoon, I proceeded to throw a fit and denounce the entire race organization for the rest of the day. And then I dropped out. I'm aware that this places me awfully close to being full of s***.

The simple truth is that my race went poorly and I didn't have the drive to continue. Since Hardrock I have had very little desire to endure suffering of any kind, and in the weeks leading up to UTMB my enthusiasm was constantly fluctuating. I was afraid of going through another Hardrock. So I started slow and even then didn't really have a lot of mojo in my legs, and by the time I was running along the ridge to the Bonatti hut after 90k my mind was completely out of it. So I dropped. That's that.

However, I'd like to recognize Hal Koerner. I have never witnessed such a comical display of abject misery. Hal's race has got to be the most exaggerated example of suffering ever endured by an elite athlete. Here is what I mean: He reached the Courmayeur aid station, roughly mile 45, in ten hours. The next half of the race took him - hold on to your socks - twenty nine hours. He went from uncomfortable, to bad, to worse, to downright torture. The last quarter of the race took him longer than his best Western States time. But he finished. From the perspective of someone who has suffered through other races, and who was at that race and dropped precisely because I would have had to endure what Hal went through, I have an incredible amount of respect for him grinding out thirty-nine hours of UTMB, at all costs, racing only the cutoffs. That's the mark of true strength and desire. Topher Gaylord said it right when he rode up the trail mid-afternoon Saturday, "just to see what three hours for 8k looks like." He looked a little tired. And Hal was not the only one out there moving for forty hours. To all the runners who got to the finish no matter what: congratulations.

I would also like to recognize Kilian Jornet. I got to spend a little time with him before the race, and that experience combined with watching his UTMB has convinced me that he is a machine. His athletic ability is so far beyond anything I've ever witnessed - he's unreal. From his house to the top of Mont Blanc is about ten miles and 12,000 ft up. He ran that eight days before the race and then again with six days remaining. Then on Monday, with four days to go, he ran for six hours. Apparently he just couldn't help himself - the weather was so nice. To do all that and more, then to line up and defeat one of the strongest fields of runners in the world is an incredible accomplishment. Yet he does things like that on a routine basis. And he's a super nice, totally humble guy. He deserves all the awards and recognition he has received.

Dropping out of a race sucks, but I have taken a lot away from the experience. I have a better idea of how to train now, and will be much more prudent when structuring my race schedule in the future. My only excuse for giving up was that I am burned out and didn't want to go through all the pain required to complete a 100, even though I could have physically gotten to the finish line. The race was disappointing, but many good things have come from the past three weeks. I would not trade them for anything. People have many different thoughts on dropping out of a race, and they are all hotly debated on blogs internet-wide. But one of the most important reasons I run is to enjoy myself. Oftentimes I can enjoy myself even while hurting, but I have run so much lately that the desire is lost. I need a rest.

Congratulations to Mike Foote, for being a super strong runner and the fastest American at UTMB this year. To Mike Wolfe, for having a bad day and still sticking it out to the end. To Nick Pedatella, for continuing to have super consistent races. To Darcy Africa, for being third woman - an achievement of incredible scale. To Roch Horton. To Scott Jaime. To Hal. To Kilian. To everyone who got to the finish line. To Geoff Roes, for recognizing that it's time for a break and some family time. And to Nick Clark, for having an incredible season and being strong enough to realize when it's time to stop.

Alpine Running

2011-08-22T03:00:00.000-07:00

I don't have a whole lot of time to post here, but I would like to add a few photos from the last two weeks. As a brief recap, I'll say that Sierre-Zinal, though only 20 miles, is a real mountain race. The first hill climbs about 5,000 feet straight up from Sierre in only a few miles. Then the track continues to go uphill for 2,000 more feet on painfully runnable terrain, after which the track dives straight down 3,200 ft. into Zinal. Super competetive and extremely difficult - I loved it.

This race is brutal

For the past week we've been in Chamonix, doing our best to take in the views here. Never before have I seen so much steep vertical in one place. Absolutely wonderful. This is the kind of place that impels a person to run for over three hours four days in a row, with a 100 mile race a week away. Or to run over 12,000 ft. up to the top of Mont Blanc with six days to go. Kilian Jornet is a very impressive guy.

On top of Mont Blanc. Absolutely amazing run.

Four days until UTMB!

The Splendors of the Old Northwest (and Europe!)

2011-08-08T10:09:00.001-07:00

After two months in the high mountains of Colorado, I have finally packed my bags and headed east. To Ohio. And boy, is Ohio the place to be.

Ah yes, glorious midwest singletrack

Seriously though, this place isn't that bad. As far as trails and running go, Ohio leaves a lot to be desired. But at the same time, the ecosystem is so different from what I'm used to that the change is invigorating. I love the dense, wet forests and the little creekbeds snaking everywhere. And more than everything I love how green this place is. Everything is alive and thriving right now in the midst of summer. Ohio isn't striking like Colorado, but it is beautiful.

This makes me realize that my plan has been to spend lots of time in the high mountains of Colorado and then fly a REALLY LONG WAY to the high mountains of Europe. But what about all that land in between? It's different, but its merits are very often nearly as great as those of Colorado. This reminds me once again of a dream to someday do a many-thousands-of-miles bike tour across somewhere large. Perhaps several large somewheres, in fact. That seems like a cool way to see the land at face level and really come to know a certain area.

But now I'm leaving. This evening I will fly all the way across the pond to the high mountains of western Europe, where I will eat great food and try hard not to step on the ubiquitous alphorn-playing bearded Swiss farmers. I hear they have mountains that pierce the sky and large blonde-haired women eager to serve me beer. I've also been working on deciphering yodeling, as I assume that's how the UTMB race organizers communicate with runners and crews. Whatever the case, this trip should be fun, and I'll try my best to post photos on here from the Alps.....with the camera I don't have, and the computer I'm not taking.

Shredded Bottles and Swamp Monsters

2011-07-27T17:43:00.000-07:00

Right before the sun came up during Hardrock a few weeks ago, I crawled over the top of Grant-Swamp pass and lay down for a solid five minutes. When I got up I followed Troy down the hideously steep and loose southern slope of the pass, and in an ill-fated step attempt across a wet rock band, I slipped and wrecked about ten feet down the hill. When I came to a stop one of my bottles had cascaded down the hill out of sight and we decided, more or less, "f#$* it."

Well today I went back up there to find the bottle, and after several moments of paralyzing post traumatic stress disorder brought on by revisiting the site of such suffering, managed to locate the bottle. This is what it looked like:

Now I would love to blame this on Julien Chorier somehow, but I can't seem to find a way to twist the story that way. So instead of that (and instead of accepting that marmots probably did that), I'm going to go ahead and blame this abomination on the beast that was Kyle Skaggs but which now lives in the depths of Island Lake and ventures out once each year to feed on the broken souls of Hardrockers. Because that's definitely what happened to him.

Nice forefoot strike, kyle

On another note, running down the trail reminded me of Julien Chorier's incredible ability during Hardrock to find the course no matter how poor the course marking was. By the time we were descending towards the KT aid station Troy and I had come to the conclusion that if we ever lost the trail in snow, following Julien's footsteps would lead us exactly to the right spot. And they always did. It was almost eerie how exact his sense of direction was. So once again, instead of attributing such professional route-finding skill to something reasonable, I'm going to go ahead and say that Julien cheated by using Rickey Gates' evil black magic to lead them from course marker to course marker. Rickey, of course, was pacing Julien, and we all know that Rickey is a level-four evil wizard.

Pictured: Rickey Gates at Chapman Aid Station

Also, Nick Clark probably has a twin. Just saying.

Hardrock

2011-07-11T10:06:00.000-07:00

Well, we did it.

Eighty of us, at least. Sixty people dropped out of the race along the way, which is a large number frighteningly close to 50%, but I don't blame those people for stopping. I wanted to quit many times as well, and nearly did at Ouray. Apparently the conditions on the course were especially difficult this year, with large patches of snow, extended sections of mud, higher-than-normal creek crossings and two extra miles due to a reroute above Telluride. The Hardrock course is everything you've ever heard about it: relentless, steep, painful, dangerous and never-f*#$ing-ending. Every instinct tells us to quit - our bodies are not designed for that kind of savage destruction. But we can do this, so why shouldn't we?

I felt unbelievably fantastic on the first climb (of ten major climbs scattered across the 100 miles), maintained a good pace through 42 miles, blew up above Ouray (mile 56.6), got back on track by Telluride (72.7), got lost before Ophir (82) and merely survived the last twenty miles. I was perpetually appalled at how unbelievably long/difficult/stupid the course was, and whimpered and whined to my pacer for more than half a day. I told him I was done running. That this was too much and could not be possible. I marched in a big circle around the San Juans with some of the most incredible people in the world, yet spent most of the time alone. I fell off a rock and lost a bottle. I was nearly caught by Nick Clark, who had done this to himself only two weeks before at Western States and then had the poor sense to try again with almost no time to recover. What Nick did was nearly as impressive as what Julien Chorier did, running the third fastest time ever on a longer and harder course than ever before. In the end, the finish line was right at the start line, and the best lesson I learned about Hardrock was that the most encouraging sign of progress is forward movement of any kind. The pain will pass and mountains will relent - but discovering that is as rewarding as it is difficult.

As I rest and try to piece together the incredible adventure that was Hardrock, I realize that no other race has ever earned its respect like Hardrock. I dreamed and prepared for this race for years, and the end result was far more than expected. Never before have I disliked running so much during the race, then wanted to sign up for the same ordeal again almost immediately after finishing. The spirit of Hardrock lives on, and will endure as long as people desire a challenge. As I've said before, Hardrock embodies the reason I run ultras. And the reality was even greater than the expectations. I count myself extremely fortunate to have had the opportunity to run the race.

Congratulations to all the finishers. I'll see you in Silverton next July.

Living the Dream

2011-06-21T08:08:00.001-07:00

Many things worry me. Climate change worries me; food worries me; large-breasted females worry me. But what worries me the most is the Internet. I am highly conscious of what I put onto the Internet, because lots of people I don’t know get to learn about me. So I started a blog, and here you are reading it. But in starting a blog one has to make all kinds of complicated decisions, the most stressful of which is naming the blog. This decision is absolutely paralyzing, since the title represents the blog and the blog represents you. Right? Right. So last year I came up with the fantastically creative “Living the Dream”, the stupidity of which I subsequently spent many long hours agonizing over. But you know what? I chose correctly. Since moving to Silverton solely to train for Hardrock, multiple people have told me that I really am “Living the Dream”, the “Dream” being something along the lines of living in a house with another runner and staggering up massively huge mountains every day. So as far as true honesty in the public eye goes, I feel like my blog’s title is pretty accurate.

But it seems I am alone in this sense, as a quick comparison of other runner’s blog titles will clearly show. For example, not many people would say offhand that Geoff Roes is “Fumbling Towards Endurance.” Given his unbroken record of 100 mile wins and two Ultrarunner of the Year titles, he seems to have endurance pretty well figured out. But perhaps he’s merely referencing his Zen approach to training, which we all read about and are like, “Yeah man. Riiigght?” Before rolling our jeans up and going slacklining. Ol’ Nick Clark is well known as the “Rocky Mountain Dirt Runner”, but I think we all know he’s not being 100% truthful. For one, he’s not even from America. You don’t see me going over to England and calling myself the “Ben Nevis Fen Jogger”. And dirt? Ha. With a low 2:30 marathon and serious American River training taking place just this spring, he spends about as much time on dirt as Anton has spent running this year. And as for Tony, here’s a conversation that will never happen: “Tony, dude, you really had a good race today. It was like you were ‘Riding the Wind’ or something”. The clearly elitist snob Bryon Powell likes to let us know that “irunfar”. Not “yourunfar” or “werunalotandencourageotherstorunaswell”; it might as well be “Bryonrunsfartherthanyou”. And for that matter, Dave Mackey is just “Dave Mackey”. Talk about conceited! Apparently he’s so fast he doesn’t even have to think of something clever. And who even knows what Kilian’s blog is called, the damn Spaniard….

Clearly I’m the ultrarunner most in touch with reality. It’s certainly tough being alone on the front lines, but that’s just the way life is when you’re this famous.

Revitalized

2011-06-20T09:10:00.000-07:00

“He thought if he were God he would have made the world just so and no different”

- Cormac McCarthy, The Road

Some days serve as reminders of how much good is in the world. Saturday was one such day for me. I spent the day in the Lake City area for the San Juan Solstice 50 mile – my favorite fifty of all time. But this year I was just a volunteer, which allowed for a new perspective on ultras. The people in this sport are amazing.
So often I get caught up in the competition at the front of a race and never consider those behind me, unless I’m worried they’re catching up. My focus is completely centered on myself and the finish line. But today the people who mattered were the people in the back of the race. The front-runners bust right through aid stations without hardly stopping, so the volunteers are of little help. The people in the back, however, are generally more open to assistance. Sometimes they are hurting and need serious help. Other times they are demoralized and want some encouragement. Many times they just like to come in and talk to someone after a long stretch alone on the trail. But what really struck me was that every person was psyched about what they were doing. A general recognition of the inherent difficulties and ultimate rewards of this sport persisted throughout the whole crowd of runners. Even those who dropped out understood that they were merely having a bad day and would be back again. Ultrarunning really attracts a set of amazing people.
I had the opportunity, on the final miles of a run with Scott Jurek, to run past about half of the racers climbing up the third long hill of the race. In truth, very few of them seemed to be feeling very good. Yet they all continued moving forward. I want to understand what drives these people like that. I have it in me as well, but cannot describe it. This impulse of determination is difficult to isolate, most likely because it is derived from many sources, all of which are particular to the individual. But despite the specific differences, everyone was marching forward with the same grim resolve. What makes people continue to move through exhaustion when the finish line offers almost nothing of material value? Why do the beauty of the mountains, the challenge and the companionship impel people to voluntarily place themselves in such taxing conditions?
Ayn Rand wrote of “Prime Movers”, or those individuals who, through sheer force of willpower and determination, bring their dreams to reality. Rand’s heroes worked alone to construct a better world. But Rand overlooked one important facet of human nature: the recognition of beauty in an insubstantial realm. She valued hard work when it produced a recognizable product, whereas ultrarunning to her would be a waste of time. Sure it’s hard work, but nothing worthwhile or usable is produced. She would be unable to accept the idea that not everything worthwhile can be quantified. The products of ultrarunning are much better described in just four words by the great French mountaineer Lionel Terray, the title of whose autobiography – Conquistadors of the Useless – handles the productivity issue with a subtle irony. He knew that though climbing mountains produced nothing of value, the benefits are priceless. Just so with ultrarunning.
Congratulations to all the runners at the San Juan Solstice 50 mile run this weekend. Make sure to come back next year for the awesome regular course, which is apparently easier than what you all had to run on Saturday. And as for me, I’ll be running today in all the fresh snow that fell in the San Juan’s last night.

Land of 45-minute-miles

2011-06-10T12:38:00.000-07:00

Dumb title huh? I know. Unfortunately it's awfully true. Today I "ran" up Kendall Mountain, which began with 3.5 miles of running uphill, and then another mile to the top, hiking up 2000 vertical feet. The total run was 9 miles with 3700 ft. vertical, topping out at 13,000 ft. Like it or not, that's what Silverton is like.

What really matters now, what everybody is wondering about, is the amount of snow in the San Juans. Like everywhere else across the West, the Rockies got a lot of late season snow that could provide extra difficulties for running. Since arriving in Silverton a week ago I've managed to get up above 13,000 ft. several times, but not without a large amount of postholing each time. Still, my honest opinion is that the snow will not be an exceedingly large obstacle. The incredible weather that continues to shine on the area is melting the snow unbelievably fast. On Kendall Mtn. alone, drifts that were waist-deep just six days ago are now essentially disappeared. The snow line is ascending the mountains faster than we can keep track of it. Indeed, on many peaks the deepest snow is not on the high slopes, but in the trees which block the sun. Every day is beautiful, and the rivers are raging.

Still, the amount of late-season snow is a serious consideration. Despite the rapid melt-rate, almost none of the high basins I've seen are passable. The first fifteen miles of the Hardrock course - containing the first two big climbs - are still under deep snow above about 11,000 ft. Certain aspects will be slower in melting out, which could create serious dangers in areas like the top of Little Giant Pass. My best guess is that the course will hold a lot of snow on steep northern aspects, but overall the amount of snow will not be much greater than in years past. The best indication of this is that the level of the Animas River seems to have peaked four days ago, and is now decreasing. In the words of Blake Wood, "Hardrock is ON!"

Silverton

2011-06-03T11:05:00.000-07:00

This is where I live now:

Spending the summer in Silverton is basically the ideal living situation. From a practical point of view, the town is at 9300 ft. and the mountains rise well over 4000 ft. above that for miles in every direction. I can live and train at high altitude on the Hardrock course and be as prepared as possible when July 8 rolls around. From an aesthetic point of view I get to look at and run up beautiful mountains all day long. And from a social point of view I get to hang out in a really cool small town with all the locals. The people who live in Silverton come from all over and do tons of different jobs, but they are all here for a similar reason, and that seems to revolve around the mountains.

When you get out here, blog-reader (as I'm sure you will), come on into the Cafe Mobius and say hi. Mobius is a really sweet coffee shop run by mountain running badass Megan Kimmel, who refuses to talk about her race schedule but repeatedly leaves town to crush races. She's really cool.

This morning I tried to run up to the top of Kendall Mountain, which towers above the town. The road curves around to the south face and then switchbacks up to the top. My logic was that the south face, which sees so much sun, should be at least passable. But above timberline the road was literally nonexistent. The snow was deep enough to hide even a bump indicating its path, so I gorilla-walked straight up to the ridge, using my knuckles as pseudo-ice-axes. At the top the wind was so cold and powerful I decided to turn around, but going down was no easier. By that point the sun had warmed the snow enough that I started breaking through the crust with every other step, which hurts. A lot. But I made it down to blog another day. The mountains here are incredible.

Miwok

2011-05-09T22:42:00.000-07:00

Miwok was the most intense racing I have ever been a part of. I literally couldn't believe what was happening during the race, especially after the turnaround when we really started hammering the course. We all went strong from the beginning, but stayed pretty relaxed to the Bolinas Ridge aid station at about mile 26.5. After that the lead group of six guys ran strong down to the turnaround at mile 33.9, after which the real racing began. Mike Wolfe and I led the climb up to the ridge, and at the top were caught by Dave Mackey and Hal Koerner. When they caught us Dave took the lead at a pace that amazed me. I wasn't wearing a watch, but we had to have been running 7:30 min./miles, or maybe faster. I remember marveling at Dave's incredible fitness and athleticism. He really is an amazing runner, but Mike and Hal clearly showed themselves of similar caliber. The four of us ran strong back up to Bolinas ridge at about mile 41, and I was the first person through the aid station. I wanted to keep my lead, and pushed the pace as hard as it had been all day, running at my absolute limits. I knew that I would either win or explode. That's the test of competition - moderate running is over; I race to test how strong and fast I am. Ultimately at Miwok I fell apart, but I regret nothing. Dave, Mike and Hal are stronger runners than me right now, and they deserved to do so well. Seeing them run like that was really impressive.

By the return to Pantoll aid at mile 47 I had fallen off the pace. Cramping and exhausted, I limped along down to Muir Beach and then up along the Coastal Trail to Tennessee Valley. I was in surprisingly good spirits, and that's probably because I knew that I had given everything I had in the race and had been broken. My falling off the pace had nothing to do with my inability to maintain the mental rigors of intense competition and everything to do with my lack of speed training. Whatever Geoff Roes says about speed work being unnecessary may work for him; I now know that as far as my own body is concerned, speed work is essential to success in this sport. Ultras are now so competitive that being able to maintain a super fast pace for many hours is the only way to win. Races like Miwok (at least for the front runners) are no longer about the adventure of the mountains and more about the competition, but that's an important facet of adventure in itself. Just a different form. Running along the Coastal Trail I knew those guys were completely out of reach, so I enjoyed my run. The Marin Headlands are a really special place. At Tennessee Valley I recovered somewhat and managed to run hard for the last six miles, to finish in fourth place.

This weekend was characterized by intense competition and great friends. Probably the best memory of the weekend is the ocean spray off the rocky coastline at Pirate's Cove. The sheer power of the water against the rocks seemed to reflect the crazy emotions of the race. Rarely have I been pushed so hard against my limits, but I think I pushed them back a little. Next time I'll have a little more power. Congratulations to everyone who raced last weekend, and particularly to the top three at Miwok - their performances were pretty stunning. Also congrats to Ryan Burch, who ran a decisive course record at the Collegiate Peaks 50 mile race in Colorado. Old Man Burch is set to have his best season yet.

Now I'm off to the mountains.

The (little known) Zane Grey 50k

2011-04-18T12:25:00.000-07:00

Last weekend I ran 33 miles of the Zane Grey 50 mile race and then dropped out. I was having an absolutely terrible day of running, with breathing problems, dehydration, weird stomach issues and deep fatigue in my legs. I degenerated from breathing hard up easy climbs early in the race to walking flat sections at mile 31. Basically, my race was just a mess. I had eaten too much the night before the race and the morning of, and my inhaler had not worked properly before the start, and I've been training hard, and I didn't have enough water, and blah blah blah. Excuses are a lot easier to conjure up than is the strength required to finish a terrible race. I've got plenty. The fact is that I didn't finish because I felt bad and was no longer enjoying the run. We do this sport for so many reasons, but at the most basic we run because we enjoy it. At least for me, running is exciting and fun and lots of other adjectives besides. So when I stop feeling good and start suffering, I naturally question the logic of continuing. Certain kinds of suffering are meant to be endured - we practice an inherently painful sport - but when the pain moves from regular fatigue and into legitimate bodily issues, the fun more or less halts. I can have a lot of fun suffering, but in certain cases like Saturday, the only time I'm going to have fun is if I stop. Hence, dropping.

In retrospect, dropping at 33 miles instead of forcing myself to suffer through the full fifty was a good plan since the Miwok 100k is in three weeks. When seen in that light, dropping out was a good way to save my legs for a better day. Unfortunately, in all truth I didn't even think of that until after my race had ended, but it's a pretty good excuse nonetheless. The real truth is that things happen and I could drop at mile 33 and be seen as a quitter who gives up when the going gets hard, or as a mature adult making an astute decision. At the same time I could have suffered through all fifty miles and be seen as a sort of hero for finishing no matter what, or as a fool for stubbornly pushing on to the end and ruining my chances at any upcoming races. The answer is in your perspective. My perspective is somewhat ashamed of not being smart enough to recognize how I felt before the race started, but mostly acceptant of my decision to stop because most of that race really sucked. I'll figure this out and run again soon.

Two final notes here. First, the Zane Grey 50 mile race as an event was just what I love most about races. It was a low-key, personable event in a really cool place. Geoff Roes and I slept under a tree directly at the start line and just rolled out of bed right before the start. The course was marked really well and the brush and logs were only a minor issue, which seemed to be a dramatic departure from the condition of the race in previous years. Overall, the event was extremely well managed. Second, check out Geoffrey Mutai at the Boston Marathon today, who ran the fastest marathon ever. Although his time probably won't count as a world record due to politics I don't understand, his time of 2:03:02 is absolutely unbelievable. What an amazing performance. The time was nearly matched by Moses Mosop, just four seconds back. Pretty incredible.

Running

2011-04-11T15:35:00.000-07:00

Since running an epic 38 mile run with 10k+ of vertical from Boulder to Nederland on April 3, I've been taking it reeeaaaaalll easy. The reason for that is because I'm a downright lier and, before Lake Sonoma, when I said I felt sharp and excellent, what I really meant was that I felt exhausted and sluggish. I could hardly move, and I almost just gave up at Eldorado Canyon on the 3rd and ran back to Boulder. The lesson here is that 115 mile weeks really kick my ass, and I need to intersperse them with much shorter weeks - a concept called "periodization" that is going to be my new experiment. The fact that some people can run upwards of 150 mile weeks repeatedly without getting injured is pretty amazing, and raises the question of "are their bodies just more inclined to take high-mileage training or have they trained themselves to deal with that?" I don't know.

Barring any environmental disasters (see: Lake Sonoma), I'll be running the Zane Grey 50 this weekend. Geoff Roes will be there too and will doubtless kick my ass, but maybe I can stick with him for at least 40 miles. The course looks like a lot of fun, although the legendary technicality of the trail is pretty worrisome.

Great job to everyone who ran the American River 50 last weekend. Particularly to Ryan Burch, my good friend and training partner here in Fort Collins. He headed out to California for his first ultra that starts at a sub-7:00 min/mile pace and managed to come in fifth! Wow! He ran 6:09, which is a great indicator of speed for his upcoming bid at the Western States 100. Ryan and I first met after he beat me at the Jemez Mountain Trail Runs 50 mile in 2009, and his performances have only improved since then. I'm lucky to have him to run with. Also starring in the top-five at AR was FoCoLocal (and former Englishman) Nick Clark, cruising into a smooth third in 6:00. Maybe now you can start running on trails again, Mr. Clark.

Now check out this photo and then come run with me here in ONE MONTH!

photo Klas Eklof

Change of Plans

2011-03-29T15:09:00.000-07:00

I've been gearing up for Lake Sonoma this weekend, but right as everyone was all set to go the race was canceled yesterday due to extreme flooding of the course. So I've been trying to figure out what else to do. Several options come to mind:

-Fly out to the Bay Area anyway and do a big training weekend with the huge crew of runners out there who are planning some awesome runs in Marin County.

-Change my flight to Sacramento for next weekend and run the uber-fast and competitive American River 50 with some 800 others.

-Change my flight to Phoenix for two weeks from now and run the Zane Grey 50 mile.

Or Whiskey

I've chosen number three. Why? Because the first option is not a practical use of the money already spent on a ticket, though it would be fun. The second option would be a great way to get a 50 mile P.R. and try my speed against fast guys like Nick Clark, Ian Sharman and so many others, but it's a road race. Zane Grey is a well-known mountain trail race in Arizona that may not be as competitive as AR, but the views and the course are supposed to be amazing. My experience running in Arizona has thus far been limited to the Grand Canyon double crossing, which is stunning, but trying some new trails will be a lot of fun. Enter Zane Grey - a much more effective training race for Hardrock and probably more of an adventure than the other two options. Geoff Roes and I will probably fly down together, like we were planning to do for Lake Sonoma, and compete against fellow Montrail runner Gary Robbins (I think?) and feared Hardrock veteran Diana Finkel.

So this weekend we'll probably do some long runs here in Colorado before heading abroad for a race. Disappointing though the cancellation is, the prospect of Zane Grey is exciting, as is the family I'll get to see in the Phoeniz/Tempe area. To close, here's a picture of what's on my mind in the spring weather.

Wham Ridge on Vestal Peak, Grenadier range, San Juans. Credit ydpl8s.

Springtime

2011-03-26T18:34:00.000-07:00

When I was in southern Utah for spring break, the weather was typical of that area in the springtime: sunny, somewhat windy, with highs in the 60s. It was perfect. I expected to return to at least slightly colder temps up here in Colorado, but have found the weather this past week to be almost ideal. Excepting the wind, which can gain some pretty impressive force at times, spending time outdoors has been more pleasurable than all year so far. Nothing makes me enjoy running more than good weather and dry trails.

That said, next weekend is my first 50 mile race of the year, the Lake Sonoma 50, in Healdsburg, CA. I'll be competing against some pretty stiff competition for such a new race, with people like Hal Koerner, Mike Wolfe and Geoff Roes. As with any race, I don't really have any idea what will happen. But I do know three adjectives that accurately describe the way I've been feeling lately: "excellent", "sharp" and "terrific". Sort of excellently sharp, which is terrific...

Tomorrow morning you'll be able to find Ryan Burch and I climbing Long's Peak in the snow. The spring weather may be good down here, but it also makes the conditions on the big mountains conducive to climbing. Seems like a pretty good way to "actively recover" before next weekend's race with a less-intense-but-still-valid workout hiking a fourteener.

Make sure to enjoy the beautiful weather yourself. The season has begun.

The Desert

2011-03-19T12:03:00.000-07:00

I just completed a half marathon. On the roads. It was called the Canyonlands Half Marathon, and as far as road races go, this is my favorite. The course runs along the river road outside of Moab and then right into town to finish at the park. I was not planning on running, but I'm in Moab and I've done this race every year for the past five years now, so why not? To make things even harder, I ran nineteen miles the day before the race, and after tomorrow I'll have a total of 120 miles for the week - once again my biggest training week ever.

However, 120 miles may be too much. Two weeks ago when I ran 115 I promptly got sick and had to take four days off. Fortunately my health returned quickly and allowed me to spend most of the last week in the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park. This is CSU's spring break, so I've had a whole week to myself. Usually I wouldn't advertise cool places like the Needles, but Canyonlands is so amazing that everyone should experience it if given the opportunity. Like most National Parks, Canyonlands encompasses some of the most stunning terrain in the world. Huge spires connected with massive walls and hundreds of canyons and arches too intricate to comprehend. The place is stunning. The Needles are far away from all civilization, but despite that they have a really well-defined series of trails, and over four days I managed to run about seventy miles with very little repetition. Something about the desert really speaks to me with its wide open landscapes cut by steep and unforgiving rock faces. You should really check it out.

So hopefully I don't get sick again this week, but if I do then at least I'll have a pretty clear answer that anything over 100 miles per week is too much. Hopefully that doesn't happen though, because running is feeling really good right now. This much mileage has been extremely enjoyable, and I'm looking forward to staying strong and consistent for the next few months.

The half marathon was a good speed workout, but that's probably an excuse. It was windy too, ok? I think I was somewhere in the latter half of the top ten. But I just like running in the desert. If you missed the Canyonlands Half Marathon and want to try it yourself, they do a really awesome race in October called The Other Half. Check it out at moabhalfmarathon.org. Then come out to the desert and experience what I'm talking about. We live in a really cool world.

One of Those Days

2011-03-09T14:47:00.000-08:00

Geoff Roes summed up this feeling really well by saying "it's just one of those days." Well that happened for me today. I went out for a 33 mile run, only to get 11.5 miles in and realize that hell no would this be happening. So I hitched my way back into town with one of Northern Colorado's friendly pain management cultivators.

You ever start a run just feeling lethargic? Then you get a few miles in, all the while hoping to find some improvement, just to feel steadily worse as time goes by? That happened to me today. I knew that finishing all 33 miles would be fantastic training, but I was way more aware that finishing all 33 miles would be utterly terrible. So I gave up and hitched back into town. Perhaps my body isn't used to running 115 miles per week yet, or maybe it's because I'm starting to get sick, but my legs were not in the mood to be running. Actually, let's just say I caved because I have an Anthropology test tomorrow and don't want to be too tired to study. That's way more responsible.

And the best part? I finished this ordeal and came home to find that the water to my house doesn't work. Again. The fine builders constructing five houses in my backyard from dawn til dusk every day accidentally broke the pipe. Last time this lasted for a week. How long will this last? A month? Well fine! I don't care! I like not having water! Actually, it's okay - we're endurance athletes right? A little thing like no cooking, bathrooms, showers or drinking water can't hurt us. This is like getting to an aid station that forgot to bring water.

I am way too dazed from my traumatic run to be writing right now.

Training Hard

2011-03-07T12:11:00.000-08:00

Well, this has been a big week for me. In addition to being held by the police and interrogated for hours, I was also able to log my biggest week of mileage in training ever: 115 miles. And I feel great!

115 miles is not as many miles as a lot of runners average, but it's enough for me. My plan is to remain consistent at a range between 95 and 115 miles per week for the next few months, until I move out to the San Juans at the end of the semester. So many people push their mileage up just because they feel that the more they run, the better prepared they'll be to race. And that is true to a point, but overtraining can lead to injury and burnout. Furthermore, junk miles are not only unnecessary but counterproductive because they are tiring without adding much physical benefit. I certainly don't know or practice some kind of panacea of training plans, but I feel that a moderate amount of miles, all with a purpose, is the most effective way to prepare for a race. With that in mind I try to run back-to-back medium distance runs on Tuesday and Wednesday (15-20 miles), a hard effort of some kind on Thursday (track workout or tempo run), an easy run on Friday (7-12 miles), and back-to-back long runs on Saturday and Sunday (20 - 35+ miles). Mondays are usually rest days. This training schedule has worked for me in the past, so I continue to use it. But in reality I'm constantly questioning my training plan because I really have no idea how best to train. I've even considered finding a coach, but at this point a coach is too expensive. So I just do the best I can with the knowledge I have. Running with other fast runners is a fantastic asset in this sense, because their experience and advice can be greatly beneficial to my own training. Moving up to the Front Range of Colorado has given me the unique opportunity to run with lots of fast runners.

Case in point: yesterday I drove down to Boulder and met up with Joe Grant and Scott Jurek. We then took the bus up to Nederland to meet with Geoff Roes. After a quick cookie at the bakery in town we loaded up our gear and ran thirty miles down to Boulder. The run was predominantly downhill, and the views were fantastic! We took a series of dirt roads and trails all the way into Eldorado Canyon, and then ran up to the Mesa Trail and over to Chatauqua Park and back to Scott's house. The run was really aesthetic in the sense that we ran from one town to another through a series of backcountry routes that seemed at times to have only been pioneered just by Geoff. Doubtless we're not the first people to do the whole run, but the route certainly hasn't been run a lot. We had a lot of fun out there.

Geoff, Dakota and Scott looking good. Photo by Joe Grant

Police Report

2011-03-02T15:38:00.000-08:00

Nature of Case: Compromise of principles
Victims: The running community at large
Suspects: Jones, Dakota
Injuries Sustained: Loss of purity in ultrarunning

Release: On 2/27/11 at approximately 9:00 p.m. Larimer County authorities responded to a complaint at the house of local ultrarunner Dakota Jones. Thus far the investigation has revealed that Jones was planning on running a 50 mile race in Texas this weekend but bailed because of a "relative lack of competition." During questioning the 20 year old Jones revealed that he had been planning on running the race just for the competition anyway, completely nullifying past statements about running for "intangible benefits" only. Further investigation revealed several boxes of new shoes from a "Montrail" company, as well as certain articles of high performance clothing embroidered with statements confirming that the athlete has no soul. Across one read "Montrail Trail Running Team" and, even worse, another read "Young Money." Jones' statements that competition is a part of what makes running fun were promptly ignored by authorities, whose cursory understanding of the runner's history and values qualified them as bona-fide authorities on the subject. In response, police advised the runner to always go to small races with little competition in order to compete for a small amount of prize money and a title, no matter the situation. Prior to the infraction witnesses reported seeing a shirtless Jones doing sprints around the .15 mile Colorado State indoor track and flexing for any nearby women, before oiling himself up for a cooldown.
Colorado state law prohibits arrests being made on the basis of "intangible cases", such as with Jones, or, according to Sheriff Justin Smith, "we would have put him away for a long time." Smith went on to state, "Rarely have I seen such contempt for the sport of ultrarunning. Jones needs to understand that ultrarunning is really serious, and just enjoying the sport for the running and even the competition is not okay with anybody."
The evidence has been submitted to the Larimer County District Attorney. Further information will be released in the coming weeks.

Prepared by: The Running Police

Change of Plans

2011-02-28T19:46:00.000-08:00

Previously in the year I outlined a tentative schedule for my racing this spring and summer, and now that has changed. How, you ask? Well, interested runners, I'll tell you how. I won't be running the Nueces Trail Runs in Texas this weekend.

Now, before you all stand up with shock and outrage, I'd like a chance to defend myself. The Nueces Trail Runs will be this year's USATF 50 mile trail championships. I signed up for the race anticipating other competitive runners to do so as well, but as of today the list is a scant 50 runners long. Now that doesn't mean that nobody fast is racing - the list contains the likes of Dave James, Michael Owen and Jason Schlarb - but I have trouble reconciling a long plane flight down to a small race in Texas with only a small number of fast runners. Surely the list contains several dark horses that I've never heard of, and the guys that I have heard of are REALLY fast, but I guess I got spoiled on the competition front last December at the The North Face 50, when just about every fast guy in the sport showed up to compete. But the relative lack of competition is not the only reason I'm not going.

Two weeks ago I had a good long run at the Red Hot 50K, and I've been able to train through that without any issues. But new to my schedule is the Lake Sonoma 50 mile race in Healdsburg, CA on April 2. Even though I signed up for Lake Sonoma later than Nueces, I've already made it more of a priority in my buildup to Hardrock, and I'm hesitant to run two 50 mile races so close together so early in the year. That's a quick course to burnout, from my perspective, and I need to maintain a high level of motivation through the summer. Also, I talk so much about being environmentally friendly, yet I've already got two plane flights to California this spring planned and then a big one to France in August. Flying is one of the most destructive acts normal people do to the environment on a regular basis, and while I'm nowhere near being even remotely carbon neutral, I don't see a reason to use up all the energy of a flight to and from Texas just for a race I'm not completely psyched about. Yes, I could go down there and compete with the fast guys that will be racing - and I'm sure we'd all have a great time - but the Nueces' lack of absolute necessity in terms of my big racing plans for the year means that the energy expenditure is just not worth it.

This is not meant to take away from the Nueces Trail Runs or from USATF. This is only a personal decision based on personal planning. The race will certainly be competitive at the front and the winner will even take home $500, which is a cool testament to the work the race director and crew are putting into their project. The course looks very pretty and varied as well, judging by the photos on the website. And finally I'd like to extend a personal thank you to RD Joe Prusaitis, who was kind enough to offer me an entry and a place to stay for the weekend. Hopefully I can come out next year. Good luck to everyone racing down in Texas this weekend!

YM

Eating

2011-02-25T12:44:00.001-08:00

"Dakota, man, we were talking about it tonight in the car, and we realized that all you do is run and eat. Am I right?"

That's a verbatim quote from my roommates a few nights ago. When they said that I laughed at the absurdity of such a statement, until I remembered I was eating right then. And had bread in the oven. And had just finished an eighteen mile run. That's when I realized that I really do only eat and run.

But we all knew that already. What this post is addressing is how I eat while running. And the answer is very simple: poorly. My biggest problem in races has been a lack of food. For example, I ate only one gel between the two stops at Bootjack aid station during The North Face 50 last December, which is a total of twelve miles with serious elevation change. Up to that point I had fueled very well but during that section I just did not feel like eating, and this decision to go without hurt me in the end. I hit the wall at about mile 38 and didn't feel any kind of recovery until I'd eaten two gels consecutively at mile 46. But by then the leaders were too far ahead to catch and I was out of luck on taking a podium spot.

I'm not trying to say here that I would have done better if I had eaten more, or that I'm actually a faster runner than the guys ahead of me. Ultrarunning involves far more variables than shorter distance running, and two of the largest that arise in trail ultras are staying on course and eating enough. The guys ahead of me were not only faster but more prepared, and the only thing I can do about that is learn from the experience. So here's what I've learned.

1.) Eat A LOT. I'm fortunate enough to have a very strong stomach, so the more I can put into it while running the better. Lot of people have trouble with food settling, but I have never thrown up during a race and I don't intend to. Usually in 50 mile races I finish in mad glycogen debt because I eat only the bare minimum to finish the race, but that's not because I can't eat. I just don't like eating while running. And while eating too much food is probably possible, it's not really something I worry about. So my motto is to eat as much as possible, and then eat again for good measure.

2.) Eat gels. Eating while running is awkward and unpleasant. You lose your stride and get sticky fingers and mess up your breathing and on and on. The trouble never ends. However, eating while running is absolutely necessary, so the best way that I've found to get calories while on the go are gels. That's because they are the quickest and easiest way to eat. Perhaps a banana or a cookie or a Chipotle burrito (I dare you) are more "real" food, but they take forever to bite and chew and swallow, while at the same time gels are a quick and easy 100 calories. Even during the one 100-mile race I've done I ate gels the entire way. Yes, they were disgusting by the end, but the only reason I got to the end was because I could continue eating gels. Taste is secondary to efficiency, and gels combine quick and easy energy into a small pack that takes less than a minute to eat. So aside from an occasional cookie or brownie from an aid station, I stick entirely to gels.

However, my "efficiency over taste" rule only extends to food. My drink preferences are actually the opposite. See below:

3.) Drink water. While pacing at Hardrock in 2009 I filled my bottle with Heed, and regretted it for the next three months. That's because by the time I was halfway through the bottle I couldn't stand to drink any more, even though I was really thirsty, because it was so gross. And my bottle utilized this innovative pore design that ensured I could taste Heed every time I used that bottle for months after. I was distraught. But I don't want to hate on Heed - Hammer nutrition makes great products that are proven effective for people who like them. If Heed works for you then by all means use it - you'll be glad. My only problem is the taste. I would greatly prefer to eat a ton of gels and drink fresh, clean water than to eat a moderate amount of gels and then drink what's basically diluted gels in a bottle. Water is just so refreshing after eating a gel that I couldn't stand to sacrifice it for anything. However, I'm taking a risk with this tactic because it means I have to eat more, since no calories are in my drink. But that's a risk I'm willing to take because, well, I like to live dangerously.

4.) Electrolytes are super important. I'm notorious for not taking any salt during races - for example, I didn't take any during San Juan Solstice last summer - but I've been lucky to not start cramping. Nuun is a great electrolyte drink because it doesn't have any sugar and the taste is mild. But I still prefer straight water, so I just take S! Caps. They are quick and easy and provide all the salt that's necessary to avoid cramping. Once again, it's the efficiency which counts.

I try to eat every 30 minutes or so. But I don't wear a watch very often while racing so my eating schedule is usually based off how I feel. If I think to myself, "should I eat something?" then yes I should. And I make a point to continually monitor how my stomach is feeling, and if possible I will eat two gels at a time so as to provide a strong caloric base for the rest of the run. The biggest rule of thumb to follow is to "eat before you're hungry, and drink before you're thirsty." If done correctly, that maxim will help any runner avoid bonking. But that's easier said than done, because countless other variables such as temperature, gradient or stomach strength can ruin the schedule. But the basic premise is at least valid as a base of comparison for how a race actually plays out.

Anyway, I'm very low-key and simple. To summarize the long version you just read: I eat gels and drink water. It works for me and if it also works for you then great! But everybody is different, and no plan will work for everyone. So my advice is to try the basics and figure what helps you perform the best. Experience is the only thing that will really help a person figure out how to eat and race.

YM

Red Hot 50K

2011-02-21T07:50:00.001-08:00

Most trail races run along established roads or trails that are defined by the landscape. The Red Hot 50K runs across the middle of the desert. Sometimes the trail is obvious through dirt or sandy sections, but most of the time the flagging is the only clue as to where to go. The race connects several jeep roads in the Gemini Bridges/Golden Spike/Poison Spider area and provides some unbelievable views of Canyonlands and the LaSal mountains. The Red Hot 50K is wild, unpredictable and beautiful.

The weather forecast for race day was wind and rain. We got both. When the gun went off we headed up the trail in a nearly direct headwind. Right from the start one guy took off and was out of sight within twenty minutes. From what I can gather his name was Mike Smith and he's an Olympic-Trials marathon qualifier from Flagstaff who has only done a few ultras. I didn't see him for the rest of the day after he disappeared, because apparently he took a wrong turn at about mile 15 and then dropped. If that hadn't happened I predict he would have set a course record, but it just wasn't his day. Hopefully he'll come back soon.

Anyway, I settled into third place behind Mr. Smith and Tim Parr on the first big loop that climbs up an anticline to overlook the race start and Arches National Park. During the first half of the loop the wind was pushing either at my back or side, but generally pushing me in the right direction. But that changed at the top at about mile 11, when the course, though going downhill, took a turn into the wind. By the time I got down to the flat section between miles 13 and 17 the wind was directly in my face at a constant rate of probably 15-20 mph, with rain besides. And that sucks. Running into the wind is like trying to accelerate in a car while pressing the brake pedal. My only consolation was the knowledge that everyone was out there dealing with the same conditions. Does that sound vindictive?

After the third aid station (roughly mile 17) the course drops into a low section for a few miles before climbing up to another rim, and that's when the weather started to improve. A lull in the storm allowed most of the front runners to get through to the end of the race in relatively mild conditions. The wind was still blowing, but it now came in sporadic gusts from all different directions. From about mile 22 to 29 the course winds about on a seemingly random course across the slickrock, weaving up and down on a completely off-camber surface. This is where people get lost the most, but this year the course was marked far better than in the past. I just cruised along by myself all the way across the mesa.

I spent the majority of the race running alone, and it didn't feel competitive at all. I felt like I was just running along through the desert on a long training day. The whole run just seemed really relaxed and mellow for the entire second half. From about mile 20 to the finish the 50K course is the same as the 33K, so I was continually passing people. Near the end of the race I looked up and saw someone who appeared to be sitting down stand up and stagger back into a running position. I didn't think much of it until I came level with him and saw that it was Tim Parr. This took me completely by surprise - I was expecting to cruise into third place. Apparently he hadn't eaten enough and fully blew up. When I reached him I thought we were going to race neck and neck to the finish, but he just let me go and I ran downhill to the finish. And won.

The Red Hot 50K is a great gauge of early season fitness. But mostly it's just a lot of fun. The race is organized really well and has a great vibe throughout. I mainly like going back home and running with all my friends, no matter the competition. Yet now I'm confident in my fitness and looking forward to continuing the momentum into this year.

The top three men from left to right (except for my cheering squad, far left): Dakota, Tim Parr, Ryan Burch

Hardrock's Controversy

2011-02-07T13:05:00.001-08:00

This is largely in response to Andrea's comment on my last post, where she questioned my statement that the Hardrock lottery becomes more flawed every year. A lot of people lately have been debating the fairness of the Hardrock entry system and all have made good points. I don't have any illusions about being an expert, but I feel that I have been in the sport and particularly around Hardrock long enough to have formed my own valid opinion. So here is my take on the Hardrock lottery.

For those of you new to the sport, Hardrock is a gem of ulrarunning. It is held every year in the San Juan mountains of Southwestern Colorado, and features about 33,000 feet of climbing and the same descent. The average elevation is over 11,000 feet high and tops out above 14,000 feet. It is held almost entirely on trails, with some jeep road sections and some sections that aren't even on trail, but just traverse the high alpine tundra. Hardrock is one of the hardest endurance challenges on the planet, and therefore one of the most alluring.

Brad Templeton Photo

The race website states, "The course is designed to provide extreme challenges in altitude, steepness and remoteness." Also, "The run is a salute to the toughness and perseverance of the Hardrock miners who lived and worked in the area." What these statements indicate is that the run is not so much about winning anything, but more about experiencing something. The two concepts are similar, but in essence separate entities. Trying to win something evokes competition and pride. The goal is about getting to the end faster than everyone else. Alternately, trying to experience something places less emphasis on the end and more on the journey, which is basically the theme of every questing story since medieval times. But it's cliched because it's true: getting to the end is only really worthwhile if the journey makes it so. Where Hardrock differs from a race like Western States is that the winners at Hardrock, while honored, are on the same level as everyone else. At Western States the victors are held in high esteem because they beat everyone else, whereas at Hardrock the victors are upheld because they did what everyone else did, only a little faster. That difference defines the rift between competition and experience that seems to be widening every year in ultrarunning.

Hardrock's lottery system is complicated. First, nobody can enter without previously running one of several qualifying 100-mile races. Second, all first-time entrants get one ticket. More tickets can be awarded for various activities, such as volunteering at aid stations or helping to mark the course or doing trailwork, etc. Third, previous finishers receive one extra ticket for every Hardrock they have finished, and all of the previous year's top 5 finishers receive an extra ticket as well. Finally, all five-time finishers and the previous year's winners gain automatic entry. Says the website, "This is the fairest system we could come up with that rewards longtime supporters of Hardrock while still giving newcomers a fighting chance." I'll deal with these points one at a time.

First, the stipulation that a previous mountain 100 must be completed is absolutely reasonable. Hardrock really is a "postgraduate run", and must be treated as such. Even seasoned ultra veterans are routinely humiliated on the Hardrock course because it's just so freaking hard. This rule ensures that all starters have at least a basic idea of what they're getting themselves into.

Second, the tickets are the basis of the Hardrock lottery system. So the rule that first-time applicants receive one ticket is reasonable. The board extends an offer of more tickets to those who are willing to help the race. So volunteers are rewarded for their contributions with extra tickets, thus creating a healthy partnership between the board, the participants and the mountains themselves.

From this point on is where things become muddled and debatable. Anyone who has ever finished the race gets an additional ticket for every Hardrock they've finished, and the top five men and women from the year before get an additional ticket too. This seems like a good way to honor those who have put in the time and effort previously, but other factors clutter the outcome. This is why I said the lottery becomes more flawed as time goes on - every year more and more people are added to that list of finishers, so more and more people get extra tickets. Over time this has the potential to build up until hundreds of people have multiple tickets, and this will greatly dilute the chances of first-time applicants. Finally, after five finishes a person receives automatic entry to the race. I don't know the exact number of 5-time finishers currently, but I do know that every year a few more are welcomed to the club. It's only a matter of time until that number gets to 50, then 75, then 100 and then even more, leaving almost no room for regular applicants. With only 140 slots total, something will have to change in order to prevent veterans from completely blocking out newcomers.

Perhaps the biggest problem is merely the fact that almost six hundred people applied to run Hardrock this year. For 140 slots. That means that about 23% of applicants are going to toe the line. So no matter what kind of lottery system is devised, 77% of the people who sign up are going to be turned away, and this will certainly create a large amount of discontent just by the sheer weight of voices of those who have been turned away. Then certain individual cases arise that make people angry, even though the board has merely followed its own rules. For example, a friend of mine was not drawn in the lottery two years in a row, and when he went to sign up the third year he was unable to because his qualifying 100 had expired. He had tried to run the race when he was qualified, but they refused, and now he couldn't even try? It seemed ridiculous, but if the Hardrock board made a concession to him they would need to make concessions to literally hundreds of other people, and this would undermine the entire lottery process. Far better to piss off individuals and follow your protocol than to waffle around and subject yourself to even more ridicule as a result of having no real standards.

So now the biggest question is about the competition up front. As has been stated all over the internet recently, Hardrock has the opportunity to make their race the most competitive 100-mile event in America. But is that what the directors want? Do they want sponsors and money and media exposure to explode onto Silverton, or do they want to stick to their roots and run the race for the sake of running in the mountains? Clearly the latter is the case, because despite controversy they have remained true to their mission statement all these years, even as the sport and its popularity have burgeoned around them. I admit that I would like to see all the top trail runners standing next to me at the race start on July 8, but I can also respect the board's decision to remain true to their principles. By letting in elite runners they would be forced to exclude others, and that would place more emphasis on the finish line, and less on the course. The Hardrock board started the race to showcase the beauty of the San Juans and provide a challenge of epic proportions to everybody, not just to see who could run the race fastest. The beauty of the race is that the competition is man against mountain first, and man against man second.

This is the reason I love Hardrock so much. From my personal standpoint, yes, I am super competitive and I do race to win, but not at the cost of losing the value of why I run. I run for the adventure and the experience. The medals and awards are secondary to the run itself, and as long as that remains true I will always be a runner. If the tangible benefits ever surpass the intangible ones, I will have lost the real reason I run.

Silverton

Hardrock is in a tough position with their lottery. The biggest issue is not that they don't make concessions to elites, but that they do make concessions for past runners. While they are right to try to value these people, their system is literally eating itself up and in time will no longer be truly functional. An overhaul will be necessary to right this problem, but any changes will almost certainly anger more people than it appeases. Unfortunately that's generally the way any kind of change is received, even necessary change. I would like to offer an alternative form of lottery that would fix these problems, but the truth is that I can't think of anything that seems actually feasible. I can't criticize the Hardrock lottery because I don't know how to fix it. The issue is too complex for one person to create a working solution because that solution would inevitably be swayed toward his personal bias, even if unconsciously. What is needed is a large forum where people can provide their opinions and then work together to find a middle ground. But that's way too hippie to actually ever happen, so instead you can all comment on this post with your opinions and next week I'll compile them into a Simple Solution for the Salvation of Sanity, with a focus on the Hardrock lottery, and post it up here. Now go!

Hardrock

2011-02-06T20:01:00.000-08:00

As I'm quick to tell anyone who will listen, Hardrock is where ultrarunning began for me. In 2008 my dad and I spent a week in the San Juans around Silverton, truck camping and hiking a lot. Every morning at 5:00 am we would get up and go out into the mountains with our packs. I routinely split and went off on my own, climbing up to high passes and traversing huge ridgelines for miles by myself and eventually coming back to the truck after hours of hiking and climbing. I can remember being really psyched with long, difficult hiking in the mountains and how far I could travel in a day. We started making a game of finding the biggest lines through the mountains - the ones that traverse peaks, ridges and cirques all in one long enchainment - and bringing them to life the next day. So when Hardrock started I was fully fit and feeling very at home already in the mountains. And that's when everything clicked. Standing at the Engineer aid station and seeing first Kyle Skaggs and then everyone else come through was literally life-changing. I was seeing what I wanted to do with my life. You don't have to carry a huge backpack and go slow all day when you're fit and wearing running shoes. After that I started going up into the mountains a lot more with the sole intention of mountain running, and after about a month I signed up for my first 50K. Now I'm here.

Hardrock is not just where ultras began for me, but also the embodiment of everything I love about the sport. The mountains are huge and unforgiving. They're stunningly beautiful and endlessly complex, which lends an air of remoteness to the race that can't be found many places in the world these days. The San Juans are the best example of Colorado's mountains, and Hardrock is the best example of ultrarunning. Many people have problems with the race because its mission is not so much about competition as it is about experience, and the lottery becomes more flawed every year. But I will take no stand on these issues right now because all I want to do is run the race. Sure, I could go out and run the course on my own time and not have to pay the entry fee and blah blah blah, but the race is the experience. All these people gather together to do something incredible, and even though we're competitive we still go through the same adventures more or less alongside each other. This ethic is best displayed the morning after the race ends, when every person gathers in the gym and honors each individual runner and their crews. Hardrock brings together a lot of like-minded people to share in an incredible adventure, and that's why I want to run the race, not just the course. (Although the course is the main draw).

So when the semester ends in May I'll be headed to Telluride to start training at altitude in the San Juans. My summer may not have so many races as last year, but the two that I do have planned are the best in the sport, as far as I can tell. Hardrock is too much for me to really comprehend right now. I'm excited and a little intimidated, but mainly driven to run the best possible race when the day arrives. And that day is July 8. Everything is building up to that day.

More Environmentalism

2011-01-27T12:43:00.000-08:00

The article I wrote for www.irunfar.com that was published recently has catalyzed a highly energetic response. Nearly 70 comments, from people ranging across the board on issues and ideals, have been posted that hotly debate the issue of environmentalism in the lives of ultrarunners and of regular people. From my perspective, this has been a huge success.

In Ayn Rand'sThe Fountainhead, Howard Roark is the idealistic young innovator, pushing the boundaries of what society is willing to accept. Standing in stark opposition to him is Ellsworth Toohey, who is a writer of high esteem in the world of architecture, in which the book is set. For much of the story, which spans a lifetime, Toohey refuses to mention Roark in his writing even in passing, and finally explains the lack of action by saying that anything written about Roark legitimizes Roark. Whether or not the press is good, the attention casts Toohey's enemy into the spotlight and makes him stand out as someone worth paying attention to. As a result, Toohey refuses to acknowledge Roark's existence, and is thus highly successful in hindering Roark's work.

The issue of environmentalism can stand as the Roark in our world today. It is relatively new and drastically different from the way we live. It challenges social norms by asking people to change their ways to accommodate a healthier environment, and no matter how the statement is phrased, telling people to change is essentially the same as telling people they are wrong. As we all know, nobody likes to be told they are wrong, and so many times a barrier is erected against environmentalism that is nearly impossible to dislodge. So what's the answer? Nobody knows, but one strategy is to raise awareness of issues. Articles like mine serve two major purposes: they contribute to environmental causes becoming the norm, and not the exception; and they create public dialogues that keep the issue in the forefront of people's minds. By providing publicity to these issues writers are able to legitimize them and therefore make them important and worthwhile to pay attention to.

The intense debates that were waged in the comments of my article proved that people care about the issue. Such fierce opinions are not formed overnight, and this shows that a lot of people are highly invested in the topic. Obviously everyone feels differently, but this disagreement is wonderful. I urge you to scrutinize everything that I said in the article and do your best to prove me wrong - not because I'm uberconfident I'm right but because it will keep you thinking about the issue. There's no way I could have included every good thing to do for the planet, but the ensuing dialogue pointed out so many things I would have missed even if the article was doubled in length. The power of people working together - arguing together - is what brings about change (which is one thing Ayn Rand would have disagreed with). The comments are no longer even directly connected to my article. They have morphed into a conversation of their own showcasing everyone's differing beliefs, all of which are valid. The sheer amount of facts posed by readers could be compiled into a pretty impressive catalog of environmentalism, and every one of them was amply supported by strong reasoning. The power of the conversation is in its ability to make people think hard about an issue and not merely defend themselves but prove themselves. Don't just say something is good for the planet - show us! One successful action can bring about countless others, and all change has to start somewhere.

I'm not saying anything that hasn't been said before. But the repetition is what matters. The important thing is to keep the important issues in the forefront of the public mind, and therefore keep them legitimate and worthwhile. The environment is one of those issues. I will keep writing about them if people will keep arguing about them. I know change isn't going to happen quickly in any lifetime, and especially not the kind of broad change that will be required to save the environment. But ultrarunnning is a good place to start because we all have a deep respect for the land already. We can clean up our act pretty easily when compared to most people in the world, and if some of people can do it why can't everybody? As for the conversation stemming from my article, I agreed with some of it and disagreed with others of it, but I welcome all of it. The scope of the topic was expanded exponentially by the reader's participation, which created a much more compelling story than the article itself presented. The comments became the real truth in that situation, because they showed what people think; the people who are part of a larger whole that will be required to make changes. We're all part of that larger whole, and we have the ability to make the necessary changes.

Training Again

2011-01-23T14:38:00.001-08:00

Training has begun once more. So far I'm three runs into my season, for a total of 52 miles, 36 of which have been with Ryan Burch. Do you know anything about him? You should.

Ryan Burch has been running ultras for since 2006 and has steadily improved his times over the years. He was just signed to the Montrail team () this year to join me and and several other cool people, and hasn't missed a day of running so far this year. I first met him in 2009 at the Jemez Mountain Trail Runs where I was running my first 50 mile race. Ryan straight up won the race and I got the opportunity to talk with him and his then-fiancee-now-wife Megan for several hours afterward. They struck me as fantastic people and I've been lucky to run with and against Ryan several times since then. He's a super strong, consistent runner who loves the sport and the mountains. What else do you need? Ryan lived in Gunnison all last year but recently moved back to Fort Collins, which is great news because now we get to run together all the time. Check out his blog at to see what he's up to.

I also got the chance to run with Brendan Trimboli today. He's a recent graduate of the University of Washington, and until December was a grad student in Boulder. Now, however, while he's still living in Boulder, he has come to his senses and stopped going to school. Brendan and I met in October at the Boulder Basic and since then we've run together several times. He's only 22, and it's pretty cool to run and talk ultras with someone younger than like thirty for once. Brendan is a super smart dude and a really strong runner, though he has done very little racing as of yet. That will change this summer though. He's signed up for both San Juan Solstice and Leadville 100, which is about as cool a schedule as anyone's. And Brendan's fast too - he's going to do very well this year.

Brendan usually looks bigger

And I also ran with Nick Clark today but, like, whatever right? He's basically a marathoner these days anyway.

Anyway, the winter here in Fort Collins has so far been unseasonably warm and dry. This has meant that we can basically stay off the roads and stick to the trails as much as usual. I've officially got six weeks to get in shape for the Nueces Trail Runs in Texas on March 5, and I don't think that will be a problem if Ryan and Nick keep forcing me out of bed before 8:00 am. And on a final note (ha ha): I got a ukulele for Christmas, so I'll start accepting offers to play for your race/wedding/bar mitzvah anytime now. Just comment.

UTMB

2011-01-19T11:08:00.000-08:00

I'm in!

The email arrived today announcing my acceptance into the prestigious Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc 166 km race beginning in Chamonix, France on August 26. This is, without a doubt, really awesome. Ever since I traveled through Chamonix for two days in 2009 I've been dying to go back, and this is a fantastic opportunity to do so. This is for a purpose, a goal to be accomplished. UTMB represents for me everything I love about the sport. Much like Hardrock, it's a perfect example of a natural, non-contrived challenge of self in some of the most amazing mountains in the world. What I love about the mountains and life in general is showcased perfectly in that race. And I'm not the only American going over there, either. Geoff Roes, Anton Krupicka, Krissy Moehl, Karl Meltzer, Hal Koerner, Nick Pedatella, Scott Jaime, Nick Clark, Josh Brimhall and more are all entered as well. Who shows up in August is another matter that's yet to be seen. But the fact that all these fast Americans are in is really exciting. To put myself at risk for repeating what's been said about several different races lately, UTMB could be the most competitive ultra ever! Who knows? All I know is that I'm super excited to go to France and run in the place where mountaineering began and test myself first against the mountains, and second against the competition. UTMB will be incredible this year.

Wilderness First Responder

2011-01-09T16:47:00.000-08:00

For the past ten days I’ve been engaged in something nearly as grueling as an ultramarathon: school. The Wilderness Medicine Institute confined me to ten days and 80 hours of backcountry medicine, all for the coveted title of “WFR”. And you know what? It was totally worth it. The skills I learned in that class will help me for the rest of my life, which could be considerably longer now that I know the basics of wilderness patient stabilization and evacuation. But what they didn’t teach us was the history of wilderness medicine itself. So I did some research and came up with the following:

"Wilderness Medicine" predates civilization. If the concept denotes the absence of definitive care, then just about all medicine practiced up to the modern age could be considered wilderness medicine. A good example of this is Otzi the Iceman, a 5300-year-old mummy found in a glacier in northern Italy in 1991. His body featured more than 50 tattoos, many of which were strategically placed over acupuncture points. His possessions also included a type of fungus known to have antibacterial properties, indicating that he was at least aware of the existence of intestinal microbes. This shows that he had a rudimentary knowledge of the body and its properties, and he was not alone. Evidence of this kind of basic medical knowledge can be found in some form in nearly all ancient civilizations. The Maya used human hair to stitch lacerations and performed dental and brain surgery with obsidian knives. Ancient Egyptian prostheses have been found that show continued wear by the patient for several years. Clearly ancient man was greatly skilled given the circumstances.

What created a rise in medicine more than anything else was war. Militaries needed people who could save injured soldiers on the battlefield and so doctors were in high demand along warfronts. As a result many of the greatest innovations in medical science came from war. Ambroise Pare was a 16th-century French "Barber-Surgeon" who, among other things, revolutionized the treatment of bullet wounds. The standard practice of the day was to cauterize them with boiling oil, but when he ran out of oil during the siege of Turin he went rogue and started bandaging wounds with regular dressings and ointment. He immediately saw a marked increase in survival and published his findings. He also promoted "the ligature of blood vessels to prevent hemorrhage during amputations" (Biography). His findings transformed medicine forever. Napoleon's Surgeon-General Dominique Jean Larrey was among the first to teach large audiences the basics of improvised injury stabilization in preparation for the mass casualties of war. He began the practice of Triage, which is the concept of prioritizing wounds and treating the most urgent first. He also was widely known for creating "flying ambulances" which would sweep the injured off the battlefield in less than twenty minutes during battle. These men and countless others not only pioneered the practice of medicine in general, but particularly the last-resort improvisation methods we use in the backcountry today.

According to Wikipedia: "By the dawn of the 20th Century additional organizations such as the Boy Scouts and the American Red Cross began teaching first aid to lay people. Over the years, these organizations trained hundreds of thousands of people in the elements of providing assistance until definitive care could be arranged." Over time people began to realize that with the rise in popularity of outdoors-based activities, new criteria needed to be developed to allow for longer time frames before the patient could see a doctor. The Mountaineers of Seattle were among the first to address this issue, forming classes that grounded climbers in the basics of wilderness medicine. After passing the National Traffic and Motor Vehicle Safety Act, the U.S. Dept. of Transportation created an Emergency Medical Services (EMS) system that standardized curriculum for Emergency Medical Technicians (EMT). From there the field grew and in 1977 Stonehearth Open Learning Opportunities (SOLO) held the first ever Wilderness First Responder (WFR) course.

Nowadays a WFR is required for most work in the outdoors industry, and is extremely helpful for anyone who spends a lot of time removed from definitive care. Several companies hold WFR courses, but perhaps the most well known company is the Wilderness Medicine Institute (WMI) of NOLS. These courses are 80-hours long and incorporate every conceivable problem that could arise, from broken bones to allergies, snakebites to diabetes. My experience was enough to show me that to this point I've been almost irresponsibly unprepared. I’m now prepared to handle an accident. Although WFR's are in no way a substitute for definitive care they are at least able to assess the situation and adequately stabilize the patient. In most cases that will be enough.

The conclusion? Get your WFR. It's worth it.

Edward Sharpe

2011-01-06T19:59:00.000-08:00

Here's a good song to enjoy while running. Or just doing whatever. Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes.

The New Year

2010-12-28T13:04:00.000-08:00

In a continuation of my offseason, I've been hanging out in Moab. Since I've gotten here I've gotten in a few 10-15 mile runs on my favorite trails and everything feels really good. The weather is great, my body feels great and it's really nice to see so many old friends. Still, the year to come is weighing heavily on me and demanding some decisions.

I'm excited to continue with Montrail for another year. They are a good company who I'm proud to support and represent. Montrail sponsored me before I'd done just about anything noteworthy, so I'm proud to be able to continue working with them after the modest successes I've had. As we move into the future they continue to build up an incredible line of high performance shoes that gets better every year. As someone who beats the living shit out of my gear on a daily basis, I'm happy to say that Montrail can keep up with the abuse of trail running.

I've also tentatively decided on a racing schedule for the next year. Check it out:

Feb. 19 - Red Hot 50k
This race is in my hometown. I've done it the past two years in a row and I intend to continue doing it for a long time to come. Though my fitness will certainly not be at its best due to the nature of such an early season race, I love running in the backcountry of Moab. Also, it's always fun to invite everyone over to my house for a big dinner and bonfire. You're invited.

March 5 - Nueces 50 mile Endurance Run (aka USATF 50 mile trail championships)
I'm going to run this race for the simple fact that it's the national championships and I run for money and titles. I'm being sarcastic, but you can go ahead and take it seriously. Do it - I dare you. Also, it's a race I've never run in a place I've never been, both of which seem like good reasons to give it a shot.

Springtime - The White Rim Trail
This is a 100 mile jeep trail outside of Moab that's been run for speed a few times. Sometime in late March/early April I'm most likely going to come out and run it in one push. This is because I need to get another 100 mile experience, but I don't want to race that long so early in the season. So I'm going to recruit some friends and come out and figure out how to run for like 20 hours.

May 7 - Miwok 100k
Miwok is super competitive and therefore worth the trip out there. It's an ultra cup race with a lot of history and a deep field, so I'm really psyched for the opportunity to come out and compete with everyone. This will also be my first try at the 100k distance.

July 8 - Hardrock
Assuming I get in, of course, I'm going to focus 100% of my energy on Hardrock. After school gets out in May I'm going to move to Telluride and run uphill for a month and a half to try to build power. Then, if all goes well, I'll run the one race I've wanted to do more than any other since I first discovered ultras. Hardrock is the one.

August 26 - Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc (UTMB)
In July/August of 2009 I spent a month traveling with a friend through Europe. Without a doubt, my favorite place we traveled was Chamonix, France. The town and the mountains create an incredible feeling of excitement and possibility that is not found in America. While Colorado mountain towns have histories of mining, Chamonix has a history of mountaineering, and this pervades the spirit of the entire area. The mountains and their glaciers are more stunning than any I've ever seen before. I basically can't ever say how amazing Chamonix was, and that's why I'm so excited to go out there this summer and run the super competitive 100 miles around Mont Blanc.

After that my schedule is unclear. TNF Endurance Championships are a possibility again, as are a few races in the fall, but these are not certain. I'm going to focus on my training through UTMB and worry about what comes after as that time gets nearer. But this series of races is going to be a lot of fun. I can't wait for the season to start.

Ultramarathons are getting bigger and more popular every year. As the sport continues to grow I find the disparity between my solitary training and high-profile racing growing greater all the time. This growth carries the possibility of bad effects, but so far the influx of money and popularity has been only good, at least as far as I can tell. Even if all this somehow ruined the sport or at least diluted its value, I'm in no position to complain since I happily accept support from my sponsors and allow myself to be featured periodically in the media. But I do these things because I see them as good things that help the sport survive and allow its participants to make money doing something really cool. So I'm looking forward to moving into the new year and helping the sport grow even more than it already has.

The Offseason

2010-12-12T13:06:00.000-08:00

I just got back from a 14 mile run at Horsetooth in the unseasonally warm temperatures we've been experiencing lately, and I feel great! Since the race I've gotten in three short to medium distance runs and they've all felt really good. Mostly this can be attributed to the five days off after the race, but also to the fact that since I'm no longer training, running isn't an obligation. It's fun and unhurried. I can go out and enjoy myself without having to worry about preparing for a race.

By the end of my training for the TNF 50 I was pretty burnt out. Training takes over life pretty easily, and finding the time to do things beside running (like, you know, studying) is hard when running routinely takes two or three hours per day, or more. Obviously it's possible to do both, but I'm not exactly motivated in school, so too often I'd find myself reading novels or looking at the internet while my schoolbooks lay idle. But more than that, I was getting sick of the constant grind of training. For a race as important as the TNF 50, every workout counts, and knowing this I gave it 100% of my energy. This left little time for friends or other fun things, like climbing, that I wanted to do but just didn't have the time. Don't misinterpret the message here: I love training and would far rather go on a long adventure Saturday morning that get drunk Friday night, but after nearly a year of training I just was ready for a break. Or, I should say I am ready for a break, since I'm certainly enjoying one right now.

Taking time off is important because it keeps our minds and our bodies fresh. It also separates (for me) the training done during one year from the next, and therefore provides a starting and ending point for each season. A break allows us to relax in comfort and relative ease of exercise before beginning the next year's workouts. I love being able to sit on the couch with a hot chocolate on a Saturday and read a book without worrying about when/where/how long I will run that day. Taking time off provides a pause in our training for us to reflect on other parts of life too often ignored in the face of other priorities, and lends an importance to the training we do during the rest of the year through reflection.

But even though it's my offseason, I still go out for runs. I ran today where I spent most of my long runs preparing for the race, and the contrast between my energy levels today and those of my training period were highly noticeable. I felt fantastic! No lingering fatigue in these legs; just a lot of energy that needed to be spent. I mean, we have to work out somehow right? How do other people work out? In the gym? No way, I'll stick to running. But only when I feel like it, because why run if I don't want to?

TNF 50

2010-12-07T09:18:00.000-08:00

When most college kids have a birthday they celebrate by getting drunk with their friends. Well, I celebrate by running 50 miles with my friends. But not just any 50 miles - these were the most competitive 50 miles of my life and they took place in the beautiful Marin headlands north of San Francisco. This was the second birthday in a row that I've spent running hard in Northern California, and I am confident that they have been the best birthdays of my life. I'm doing what I love with a lot of cool people - why would I want anything else?

The intensity of that race was something I've never experienced before. For at least ten miles the front pack consisted of a ridiculous number of people all jostling and competing to stay on the trail and keep up. I was among the front because my goal from the beginning was to stay with the leaders as long as possible. Actually, my goal was to stay with Geoff as long as possible, since the leaders in the beginning of any race are almost certain to go too fast. I knew Geoff would race fast and smart and would therefore be the person to follow. And he's a cool guy to talk with, which makes the miles go by easier.

By the climb up to Pantoll, which is roughly miles 13-19, the front pack had consolidated into a group of Geoff, Michael Owen, Matt Flaherty, Dave Mackey, myself and a few other runners who I didn't know. Some Salomon guys were with us, and I think they were Thomas Lorblanchet and Miguel Heras. We all ran together up the mellow switchbacks and talked the whole way. Directly behind us were long lines of strong runners all working to keep us in sight, and by the top many of them had caught up. So we came into Bootjack aid station the first time in a pretty large pack. But some people stopped in the aid station, which allowed those of us with crews to get a little bit ahead. Thus from mile 19 emerged about six runners all moving very fast together and separated from the next group by a buffer of about a minute.

Dave, Geoff, Matt, myself, Lorblanchet and Heras all kept a super strong pace on the out and back section. This part is very high and exposed along the side of a hill, with fantastic views of the beach below. Here we encountered some rain for the first time, and a pretty steady amount of wind. But we kept moving really fast. Coming back was probably one of my least favorite sections of the course, the only reason being that we have to pass a lot of people on a very small trail on a very steep hillside. Everybody went out of their way to accomodate us in the front, for which I'm super thankful, but it's still not an easy task, and a few times I slipped off the trail a bit and had to stagger back into place. From the end of the out and back to the Stinson Beach aid station is a very long downhill, and this gave my legs a chance to rest while still keeping a good pace going. Heras and others fell back a bit at this point, which left Dave, Geoff and I together in the front.

At the aid station some people paused to fill their bottles, but mine was still mostly full so I just kept moving through with Geoff. But right out of the aid he stopped to pee and all of a sudden I was leading the race. I had a moment of mental panic before regrouping and just telling myself to run my own race and let them catch back up in time. But as I got further and further away I noticed that nobody was catching up, and my confidence grew. The trail at this time climbed about 1800 feet up Steep Ravine with steps, log bridges and a ten foot ladder. Best of all, this whole climb passes through a Redwood forest. About fifteen minutes later Geoff caught me but didn't pass, and we talked for the rest of the climb. At the top we say Topher and Kim Gaylord and several other friends all cheering us on, and this was a major morale booster. Geoff and I emerged into Pantoll and cruised the extra mile or so to Bootjack aid station feeling pretty good in the front.

By this point I hadn't eaten since the out and back section, which was about ten miles back. So on the descent (the whole course was either a climb or descent. From Bootjack we ran way down, then a little up, then down more, and then way up, and then way down again. Then we only had two more big climbs to complete) I ate two gels to recover, but I still began feeling pretty tired. On the downhills I felt invincible, but climbing had become a nearly agonizing chore. Geoff led the way and I managed to keep up for several more miles, but on a small climb before Muir Beach aid station he finally pulled a little ahead of me. But what really did me in was the climb out of Muir Beach, which is something like 900 feet and STEEP. It was also muddy, but that's no excuse for the fact that I was just completely trashed from 40 miles of hard racing and couldn't move fast enough. I ran most of it, but the pace was pathetic, and included more walking than I'm willing to admit. As I finally crawled over the top and attempted to revive some kind of downhill stride, Miguel Heras came charging past me. He was in the zone and absolutely flying - I could hardly believe he was in the same race. "Well, there goes $4000," I thought, "Maybe I can maintain my $1000." But it was not to be. A little further down towards the final aid station Dave Mackey cruised past me with a word of encouragement, and disappeared.

From this point on I just worked to maintain my position. From Tennessee Valley aid station to the finish is about five miles, with 1.3 of easy uphill and the rest either down or flat. As embarrassing as this is, I totally walked at least half of the final climb, and ate two gels and drank lots of water. I was absolutely finished. From the top I just tapped into the autopilot I've developed from running so many long races, and managed to squeeze in a finish just over seven hours, utterly tapped. It was a good feeling, and a good finish. And congratulations to everyone ahead of me: you all ran incredibly well and deserved what you earned. Especially Miguel Heras, who fell off the pace in the middle but managed to come back at the end for a truly amazing victory.

I am in no way disappointed in myself for this weekend. The race was a good learning experience and taught me a lot of things about running up front, eating enough, training right and being smart. I'm also happy to know that I have the ability to compete at the highest level of the sport, which gives me a lot of confidence for the future. The North Face 50 is a really stellar race not only for the terrain and aesthetic beauty of the course, but also for the incredible amount of talent that is drawn by the prize money. Granted, $10,000 would have been a really kickass birthday present, but I learned a lot more about how to compete by getting fourth than I would have with a win. And to make things really great, just about everybody I know was there to celebrate with me. Even my parents managed to make the race on their way to Hawaii, which was really special. This weekend wouldn't have been what it was without the people.

I'll be back to Marin soon enough for another try.

A lesson...and my birthday!

2010-12-05T16:00:00.000-08:00

The NF Endurance Challenge yesterday in Marin was definitely the most exciting race of my life. That was a level of competition at which I have never competed before and the result was a pretty spectacular explosion. I gave it everything I had and ran in the front for the first 38 miles, but just wasn't strong enough to keep going to the end. So it's somewhat disappointing, but overall I'm very pleased with the race and what I learned about myself and about competing. In the future I'll be better.

Expect a longer race report in the future. This is just a short teaser to the doubtless enthralling piece of literature chronicling yesterday's race that I'll be sure to post here sometime in the next few days. Today is my birthday, so I'm definitely not going out of my way to do any work. Instead, I'm going to anxiously sit here in the airport and hope the rain doesn't delay or cancel my flight. For more information on the race refer to www.irunfar.com and check back here soon for my perspective.

A Deep Breath

2010-12-03T19:46:00.000-08:00

This is one of the most exciting parts of a race - the night before. This is when the suspense builds up to a point from which all the results will emerge. Right now anything is possible. We're standing on the edge of the bridge, with the water rushing below, and the fear and excitement and anticipation are all coming to a head. My heart is beating in my ears as the void below beckons toward the unknown. It's all very metaphorical and deep.

I'm ready to race. I can't wait to get out there tomorrow and run as hard as possible. This is going to be the most exciting race of my life and what happens on the course tomorrow will be nothing less than amazing. So I'll take a deep breath and savor the expectation of what's to come, and in six hours get up and head off to the start. Good luck to everyone out there tomorrow.

The North Face Endurance Challenge

2010-11-30T18:07:00.000-08:00

This weekend I'll be in San Francisco with every ultra runner who has ever run even somewhat fast in a race, all vying for the top spot in what is apparently the most competitive ultra ever, if the several race previews I've read are correct. The winner takes home $10,000, and second and third get $4000 and $1000 respectively. That's a big deal in ultrarunning, and the result is a massive amount of attention on the race and its competitors.

Personally, I have no idea how I'm going to do. I am without a doubt in the best condition of my life right now, and I'm looking forward to combining that with the strong base of experience I've built up over the year to see how things play out. The reason I'm doing this race is to pit myself against the best the sport has to offer, and see where I stand. But that's too ambiguous. At the very least I'm shooting for a top ten spot. I've been quite flattered by my notable mentions in many of the previews, and so hopefully I can live up to their not-good-enough-to-win-but-should-be-up-front-somewhere predictions. This is going to be a really fun run in a cool place, and if I'm lucky I'll get to watch the drama play out firsthand.

As for everyone else, the predictions seem to be putting Tony in front of Geoff and Ulli. Despite Geoff's conclusive victories this year, most people think that Tony has the ability to win, especially since Geoff has excelled in the 100 mile distance and may not be quite as untouchable in 50's. This may very well be true - I'm not putting odds on anyone. I've run with both Tony and Geoff a few times this fall and they both seem to be in fantastic condition, so their race is going to be really exciting. Behind them on the lists is a line of people who would each be definite wins in a normal race, and all of whom have a chance to throw prediction out the window and take the win. We'll see how it goes. $10,000 is a lot of money.

But in addition to the race this weekend is going to be awesome! San Francisco is warm, low and full of fun things to do. Many of the coolest people I know are going to be hanging out all in one spot and my birthday is on Sunday. On Friday the Montrail team members are going to meet at the Mountain Hardwear headquarters and do all kinds sponsored athlete stuff together. And through all of it I always feel like such a rock star by flying across the country to races. Despite the fact that it's on my own bill, traveling seems so glamorous. And remember: if it's not glamorous it's not ultrarunning.

No matter how the race plays out, this is going to be a really fun weekend. Everyone racing seems to be in top condition and looking to run their best race ever, and that seems to be the only thing that will take home a win on Saturday. Of course, everyone could just be nice and give me the win since my birthday is the next day, but somehow I don't think that's going to happen. What will happen is going to be awesome, so pay attention to Bryon Powells twitter updates on www.irunfar.com and he'll let you know what's going on in real time. And now, here's what I'll be listening to race morning.

New Socks

2010-11-11T18:40:00.001-08:00

I told you I'd have a good story this time, and here it is: I got some mail.

This is how I get my mail

Certain things in life seem to be created solely to make life more pleasant. Among these are hot chocolate, good books, campfires and beautiful women. However, one of my absolute favorite parts of life are new socks. You know what I'm talking about - new socks make any day a good day, no matter what the circumstances. Lost your job? Throw on some new socks. Got dumped? New socks will fix it. Very little can upset someone wearing new socks, and so you can imagine my excitement when I realized Drymax had sent me a whole box full of woolen happiness.

These guys could use some new socks

Anyway, what was there to do but throw on a pair and go out for a run? This was an ideal test run day, since it freaking snowed last night and covered all my regular trails in just enough powder to melt by the time I got there and leave behind a hideous muddy mess. Throughout two hours and fifteen miles, my legs got completely trashed from all the dirt being tossed up. And the trails were covered in little puddles that didn't seem deep from afar but were usually sufficient to nearly submerge my feet each time. So basically I got dirty and soaked, which was actually a lot of fun. But the socks really held up to what they say they do. Each time my feet got wet I woud at first be able to feel the water through my shoes and socks, but within a few minutes my feet would be dry again. This drying happened so quickly and effortlessly that I hardly noticed my feet were so dry and comfortable. I'm not really sure how they do it, but Drymax socks have so far turned out to be awesome. Doubtless they incorporate a lot of science and math in their design which renders them superior to the worthless cotton socks I'm used to.

And they keep your feet dry too!

A lot of people try out some new kind of running sock and say it's the best they've ever run in and they'll never wear another sock again. I can't say this for Drymax right now, because I've only run in them one time. But I'm the kind of person who likes to find something that works and stick with it. That's why I run in the Montrail Rockridges and have three of the same pair of running shorts. Judging by today's run Drymax socks work really well, and I'm really excited for the opportunity to continue to try out all their styles and sizes over the next few weeks. Get a pair yourself and see what you think. Especially now that the snow is flying and the trails are going to be cold and wet, Drymax has socks that are thick, warm and durable. Trust me: this is a great excuse to get some new socks and improve your day. And to finish, here's a Great Job! logo placement for Drymax:

Great Job!

Current Running

2010-11-09T21:12:00.001-08:00

So lately I've been running hard. My training is hovering at about 90 miles per week, with one day of hard track workouts every Tuesday with Nick Clark and co. Overall, I feel strong and fit, but also a little tired. This is to be expected, and I feel like this is some of the best and most consistent quality training I've ever done. But really, who cares? I'm mainly posting this because I now have 25 followers and feel obligated to post something periodically. As a result here's a great music video:

That's guitar for "Go on a run!" But what's next? What exciting stories and adventures will you find posted on here in the near future? Well, I can't answer that with anything besides vague, somewhat apocryphal statements like "mountains are made for snow" or "He who runs in the winter...hates running", but just know that I intend to put a lot of thought into the next blog post. Even if I have to completely make the damn thing up, you'll get a good story. So hold tight and come back often - I won't let you down.

Black Diamond Sprinter Headlamp

2010-10-23T18:13:00.000-07:00

And now, for your reading pleasure: the first of many GEAR REVIEWS!

Now, I don't consider myself any kind of expert in technical matters, but I am confident that I can adequately judge whether something works or not. Things like the on/off button, a few settings and adjustable straps are all within my sphere of management. This isn't a cursory review - it's basic and relatable. Now, without further ado check out the Black Diamond Sprinter.

The Sprinter is a good headlamp, which can be cited in large part by the fact that it doesn't have much to talk about. The simplicity of the design is why it's so ideal for running. What runners want in headlamps is something light, bright and reliable. The Sprinter is all of these. The tiny bulb in the front projects a gigantic triangle of light bright enough to blind anyone within 100 feet. The wide sphere allows for an extended peripheral view that is not found in other lamps. Also sweet is the flashing red light on the back of the lamp that announces your presence to cars, mountain lions and other people who may be in the vicinity. In short, you won't have any trouble seeing once the light is on, which means Black Diamond has done their job.

Here's a Great Job Logo Placement!

The power for this light, seemingly derived directly from the power of awesome, is actually stored in an environmentally friendly rechargeable battery that sits lightly on the back of the head. The battery pack is smaller and more compact than normal batteries, so the weight won't pull the strap down your face as you run. If for some reason that does happen, included in the box is an extra strap that runs over the top of the head.

The only downside to the headlamp is the battery's charge length. The box says that on a full charge the battery will last up to five hours. Given that many runners are looking for a headlamp that can keep running all night during 100's, this won't do at all. That's the advantage of the special version Roch Horton made: by removing the battery from the head strap and using a waist strap that has a larger battery pack the light will last as long as I need it to. Newer versions may last longer than my normal Sprinter, but the battery life is still a problem. Still, for early morning and night runs - especially as winter approaches - this headlamp is exactly what runners want.

Bear Chase Result

2010-10-06T08:35:00.000-07:00

The Bear Chase Trail Race is the easiest 50 mile race I've ever done, when viewed in terms of technical and vertical difficulty. With about 3,000 feet of climbing over the entire distance and most of the four laps on non-technical trails and dirt roads I wasn't expecting anything too hard. With that said, by the time I was about halfway through lap three I began asking myself, "What the HELL was I thinking?"

When the race began my legs felt surprisingly good and I just cruised along with Brooks Williams for a while. By the beginning of the second lap, however, my legs started to betray the lingering fatigue from the Bear 100 the previous week, and without much warning I suddenly felt like I had already run about 20 fast miles farther than I really had. This heaviness stayed throughout the rest of the day and made the course into much more of a challenge than would normally be the case. Hence my personal inquiry above.

The interesting thing was how my mind was the main motivator in keeping me moving. Towards the end - especially the final lap - my legs were really tired and begging to stop. In the past I have felt this way and just complied with my legs - slowing down and allowing myself to walk too much. But here I recognized that by forcing myself to run mentally, I could totally do it. This is the technique that Tony used to beat me at White River: while he may have been tired and had heavy legs, he forced himself to run the entire second climb and therefore widened the gap between us considerably. The power of the mind cannot be overstated, and that's why ultrarunners value mental stamina as much as physical ability - because if you're willing to go through the pain you can literally force your body to cooperate. This rule has its exceptions, to be sure (for example, Tony's run at Leadville this year ended because he literally could not move any further. He didn't just give up from being tired; his body quit working correctly) but all in all the power of the mind will make the body work.

#2 Patrick Blair

So even though I felt like crying for most of the final lap, I was able to maintain a strong pace pretty much from start to finish, and came into the finish line in about 6:39. I wasn't aware that I was in first until they told me, though. Patrick Blair led for most of the race, and would have won outright if he hadn't had an IT band issue on the final lap. He is a young climber living in Casper, WY and going to med school, and this was his first ultramarathon. Apparently a friend of his was doing the Bear Chase and he decided to sign up on a whim a month prior to the race. With minimal training he showed up and ran an unbelievable time, and doubtless with more training he has the ability to make a name for himself in the sport. In third was Brooks Williams, from Colorado Springs, who you probably know but if you don't you should. Does that make sense? Hopefully.

#3 Brooks Williams

Anyway, this was a fantastic weekend for everyone involved in the race and I recommend it to anyone who wants to run a relaxed and supported ultra. The race director has some plans for similar races in equally accessible places for Front Rangers, so keep up on David Manthey's doings. Sweet!

Bear Chase Trail Race

2010-10-02T07:37:00.001-07:00

Let us examine the facts:
1.) I ran 100 miles last weekend, more or less nonstop.
2.) I have not run a step since
3.) The Bear Chase Trail Race came to my attention midweek, along with its free entry for people named Dakota Jones.
and finally,
4.) Why not?

The conclusion that can be drawn from this is that my brain is not working properly. You'd think that after what my brain and I went through to get to the end of that damn 100 mile race last week it would at least try to stop me from running 50 more this weekend, but apparently that's not the case. Maybe forgetting is the brain's way to save us from remembering what a hideous ordeal the last 40 miles were, but this tactic also makes me sign up for more ultramarathons - the following week. We can't trust ourselves anymore.

This is a race in Lakewood, CO around some lake. For those of you who are unaware, Lakewood, CO can be defined as "West Denver Suburbs", which are the three magic words that draw ultrarunners from all corners of the globe. In all seriousness though, as far as I can tell the 50 mile race will be four laps around this lake, with each lap equating to 12.5 miles or so. Combine that with the fact that it seems to be right off I-70 and this race may be as hard to complete aesthetically as it will be physically. But I mustn't complain - the opportunity to run 50 miles fully supported is better than the opportunity to sit in my dorm all day and practice web publishing. As a result, I'll be at the Bear Chase Trail Race 50 mile run on Sunday morning at 6:00 am with my good friends Brooks Williams, Ben Reeves and possibly even Scott Jaime. Sound good? I think so too. The only thing we have to watch out for now is....the DAYMAN!

Bear 100

2010-09-28T08:40:00.000-07:00

Well, I survived it.

Barely

That was the single hardest thing I've ever done physically. The amount of time I spent suffering last weekend was so far beyond anything I've ever done before that it's not even in the same realm. I know how to run 50 miles - 100 miles is unreal. I couldn't believe that the final 50 could take that freaking long. But you know what? It was worth it, because I finished.

We started the race at 6:00 am on Friday morning. The first 20 miles climbed over a big pass and descended all the way back to the bottom of the planet. This section I took really easy to figure out how my legs were going to feel and just to make sure I saved plenty of energy for later. At the beginning of the second 20 miles my legs were warmed up and feeling really good, so I began picking people off the front. In retrospect this is where I went too fast. This surge should have happened 60 miles later, but instead I sped up under the pretense of "experience" and doubtless tired myself out unnecessarily. I've paced enough hundreds and run enough 50's that I thought I possessed the "experience" necessary to judge for myself. This was not the case. Nobody has adequate experience to gauge a 100 mile race until they've done one. That was lesson #1 from the race.

The third 20 miles began with my running with the eventual winner, Mr. Mike Foote, who is awesome. We met this summer at Hardrock and I have a ton of respect for what he is capable of, which he showed without a doubt on Saturday. We were moving well and came into the mile 45 aid station together. He seemed to think I was going to kick his ass and asked me to tow him along as long as possible. I thought he was joking. Then he accused me of sandbagging. Well Mike, I think that you may have been the sandbagger in this situation. In all seriousness, however, he ran a better race than anybody ever has on that course, and to top everything off when I finished about four hours after him he was standing there cheering us on. That's true sportsmanship, which leads us to lesson #2: hang out with Mike Foote more.

From mile 45-51 is a gigantic climb and I started feeling bad and let Mike get ahead of me. The following ten mile section to 61 is mostly downhill and still I felt terrible. Those miles were the beginning of a long downhill section for my energy level which never got better at all. Aren't people supposed to be able to climb back out of low patches by eating a lot and just suffering through? That's what I thought, but to no avail. At about mile 61 my competitive instinct limped off into the bushes to die and left me somewhat more lighthearted, but being lighthearted is difficult when you feel terrible and have 39 miles yet to run. Through the night. Alone. Lesson #3: think in terms of aid stations.

The fourth 20 miles was the section where I transitioned fully from running to merely surviving. Just keep moving moving moving and trying to think about eating and just getting to the next aid station. The enthusiasm I'd had for the race the day before seemed an incredibly alien concept - who could possibly have that much excitement about this much pain? I wasn't sure. But the interesting thing about the pain was that it wasn't pain in a normal sense. Nothing specific was hurting. All I could tell was that EVERYTHING hurt, all at once and therefore dulled the pain somewhat by comparison. I just wanted to stop moving, but I knew that I had the ability to finish and what would be the point of dropping? Dropping would only be a way to let myself down by backing out of something difficult, and as much as I hated being out there towards the end I knew that the only way I could stop was if I passed out involuntarily or just finished. So I kept moving.

This is me at about mile 82

At the mile 85 aid station Scott Jaime and pacer Josh Brimhall caught up with me and allowed me to run with them for the rest of the race. Without them I doubtless would still be out there crawling toward Bear Lake. With these guys to talk to and Josh's infrequent but consistent pushes for one minute bouts of shuffling, we managed to get all the way to the finish without being passed. Major kudos to Josh here for being so patient during such an ordeal; I know how painful that can be. We talked the whole time and I complained way too much, but they put up with me all the way to the end. From mile 92 the course goes up a short but majorly steep climb and then features an outrageously long, steep and painful descent into the valley. Once on the road we picked up the pace and shuffled into the finish side-by-side in 22:15. Done.

Long way to go still. 51.8 miles. Stole this photo directly from Scott's blog without asking. Thanks whoever took this picture.

The conclusion is that running 100 miles is really, really hard. I am glad I did it, but I'm also not keen on entering any more hundreds until at least next year. Doubtless the next time won't be as painfully long and drawn out, and I'll hopefully be better prepared both physically and mentally, but the truth is that running 100 miles will still be REALLY FREAKING HARD. Then again, that's a large part of why we do these races - for the challenge. Anyway, I can tell I'm already beginning to forget how miserable those last 25 were and the thought of another one gets less and less heinous every day. But for the rest of this year at least I'll be content with 50 miles, because that's at least a reasonable distance right?

Bear 100

2010-09-20T20:50:00.000-07:00

This weekend I'll be off running my first 100 mile race ever. This was somewhat unexpected but not altogether unwelcome, and now that the race is right around the corner I'm discovering that I'm actually really excited.

Since beginning ultras I've been naturally reserved about running too much too young. I don't want to get hurt and so many people say that running too much can injure young bodies for the long term. In light of that I have been extremely careful never to overtrain and especially never to run while injured. With this mentality I've been able to maintain a high level of fitness for a long period of time with virtually no problems. This success with my training has steadily built up my confidence until after White River, when I came to terms with the fact that I now know how to run 50 miles fast. That's not to say that I'm bored with the distance or that I have run my best and won't ever improve, but I can safely say that 50 miles is nothing new for me. So when the idea of actually doing 100 miles became a consideration and then a question and now a reality I naturally became intrigued with the new adventure. This is why I do this sport! For the unknown and the excitement and the challenge of something I've never done before! Something really hard whose quest and completion will fulfill my sense of adventure and make me content with my life.

A Bear. Not the Bear, but equally tough I'm sure

I've paced at enough 100's to know that it's much more than just two 50 mile races. The real challenge starts after the first half, and that's going to be a new experience for me - one that I've been dying to have since I ran my first 50K in 2008. 100 miles doesn't scare me, but I certainly have a huge respect for the distance. So I'm going to start slow and forget about the competition. Maybe after 75 miles I'll speed up a little if I feel good. But this is not a competitive race for me. This is a chance to go try something new with a lot of like-minded people. This will be a good weekend for everyone. I'll see you on the other side.

Interview

2010-09-16T09:07:00.000-07:00

Check out an interview I just did at www.runcolo.com.

In other news, this weekend is the Run Rabbit Run 50 mile race in Steamboat Springs, CO. This is the second installment in this year's Montrail Ultra Cup and a lot of fast people will be there, including Ryan Burch, Geoff Roes and several others. This is a good time to start amassing points for the rest of the series and have a possibility of winning up to $5000 at the end of the year. Then again, maybe not, since Geoff is going to beat everyone by a huge margin. Sorry guys. Anyway, I'll be out there as well to cheer everyone on and enjoy being at a race without the pressure of racing or pacing, which should be a fun change of routine.

To close, here is a picture of Mt. Denali and the Ruth Gorge taken by Bradford Washburn in the '50's, which has nothing whatever to do with running but is pretty freaking cool to look at.

Cool? Cool.

Running the San Juans

2010-09-05T19:55:00.000-07:00

Well, I've decided to take this blog a little more seriously and post things that people might actually want to read, and a little more regularly than I have in the past. This last should be pretty easy, as long as I post more often than, like, three times a year. But writing in an interesting manner will be a little more difficult. So let me know if you like what you read. To start off my new "business-like" jag, here's what I did this past weekend in Durango.

A little after 6:00 in the morning I began running from Purgatory Ski Area with Mike Farris, down towards Purgatory Flats. We were beginning a run that would take us down to the Animas River, up to and through Chicago Basin, over Columbine Pass and down to Vallecito Creek and then out to the trailhead. This run is a total of 34 miles, with some 4500-ish feet of climbing and probably 5500 feet of descent. It's fantastic, but we only got one picture: of us at the end of the run. Check it out.

note the shoes. Mike: Masochists. Dakota: Rockridges.

We ran down to the river and up to the Chicago Basin trailhead, about 9.5 miles, in 1:43. From there we started up the big climb of the day, with the sunrise beginning to grace the tops of the peaks around us. The mountains down here are absolutely unbelievable. At many points all we can see are these gigantic flanks rising into oblivion above us, with occasional vertical, twisting rock spires showing themselves above the ridges. The Weminuche Wilderness is the largest in Colorado, and very nearly the largest in the lower 48, and inside are some of the steepest, most jagged peaks in the state. A person could spend years in there and not see everything. Fortunately for us Chicago Basin is so large and its adjoining canyon so long that the trail isn't actually all that steep. So, in theory, we could run the whole thing. But I was tired and just didn't have it in me that day. I was able to run most of it, but at a few points I had to just stop and walk up the hill. My training for the last two weeks has been almost 100 miles even per week, which is something I've totally done before, but this week something has just kicked my ass. Which is good, right? This probably means I'm actually training well, because I'm tired.

Once we got into the basin we gained great views of the stunning rocky pinnacles that hem the canyon in. These mountains include three 14ers: Windom, Eolus and Sunshine. Another popular run is to do what we were doing, but to bag these three peaks along the way. We enjoyed looking at these mountains, but climbing them was beyond our abilities for the day. Anyway, in the valley were tons of mountain goats! They were awesome! Mountain goats are magnificent creatures: compact, powerful and purely white, with sharp horns curving back from their heads. And the best part were the little baby goats, romping around and squealing loudly. Mountain goats are sweet.

We managed to run most of the uphill to the pass in 3:58 - an encouraging sign considering that the top was around 12,000 feet. At the top we stopped for a second to take in the killer views of Chicago Basin and all the rest of the San Juans laid out before us, then started down the other side. This began our roughly 16 mile descent, and brought us quickly down into the trees and past more vertical peaks. An interesting fact is that people talk mostly of Chicago Basin, but the basin on the other side is almost equally stunning, and from the looks of it offers nearly as much good climbing. Eventually we made our way to Vallecito Creek and then cruised the last 9 miles down to the trailhead, extremely tired but feeling good the whole way. The final time was 6:49. Not slow at all, and an awesome run overall. I did it this exact weekend last year and I'll definitely do it again. Purgatory to Vallecito is one of the best displays of the San Juans that can be found in a one-day run. But, as I mentioned earlier, a real tour would require a backpack and several weeks. The San Juans are an amazing place, and all the time I've spent up there is cherished. Go there.

Motivation

2010-08-27T10:56:00.000-07:00

Interview

2010-08-17T12:45:00.000-07:00

Since I've started doing well in races this year, people from all walks of life have been asking me questions. Ultra-runners want to know how I race, road-runners want to know why I race and non-runners want to know what is wrong with me. My normal response is to lie and cheat about everything in order to get what I want, but in retrospect many of these people have legitimate questions. So presented below is an interview conducted with myself last night on the Denver RTD bus en route to Wadsworth and Colfax.

DJ: Thanks for talking with me today. So tell me about yourself and how you got into running in the first place.

DJ: Well Dakota, it was pretty simple. I can't fight. I was never one to wrestle with the other boys at school and I just couldn't hold my own in a fight. So that presented me with two options: steroids, to make me more manly; or running, to escape from situations I couldn't win. Well I did the first option for a while, but after an incident involving me loudly and forcefully scattering the contents of an elderly woman's cart at the grocery store I decided that maybe I should just go with the running option. I may not exactly be captain badass anymore, but at least I'm captain still-in-one-piece, and I've learned to live with that.

DJ: Sounds pretty weak, but I guess everyone can't be jacked and tan like me. What made you want to run ultras?

DJ: Well I've lived in very mountainous places my entire life, and it just kind of came together. One night in November I was at a party in Moab down on the Kane Creek road and things got a little rowdy. I was standing on a truck emceeing to the crowd - this was the early days of Young Money - and naturally these chicks came up and started making out with me right there. We did that for a while and had a good time, but then one of their boyfriends showed up and got all kinds of pissed off, trying to fight me and whatnot. Well I had long since come to terms with not being a fighter, so at the first chance I leapt off the truck and took off into the backcountry. What I didn't know was this guy was a track runner and had some speed himself! So suddenly I found myself engaged in a high speed running pursuit through the canyon country. I climbed some steep fins and leaped a few chasms, then slid into a creek and ran down the creekbed for more than an hour, with him behind me the whole time. By this time the sun had started to come up and I could see my way. As I climbed out of the creekbed and made for the road I saw a huge group of people ahead, so I ran towards them to blend in. Right then I heard a gunshot and the people began to move! A stampede! But no, this movement was calculated in a way that seemed to indicate premeditated thought. Soon enough the realization hit that this was a race. So I just ran the whole race and left my track-star pursuer behind. I ended up taking third and decided to keep running these races. So that brings me to here.

DJ: Ok. I can see that as being realistic. Since then have you worked out a system for racing, as in what do you wear and carry?

DJ: I carry water and eat gels. Sometimes I wear a hat and/or sunglasses. I also wear shoes, like every runner who wants to do well. Here's a little-known fact about me: when I'm winning a race I get naked until the finish. It's kind of my trademark. Second place is usually pretty impressed.

DJ: Have you ever had any injuries? More importantly, are you aware that being injured makes you weak?

DJ: I actually have a small knee problem going on right now. To fix it I've been using my own personal medication of bi-hourly Maker's Mark shots and fifteen pounds of fried chicken daily. To put it simply, I don't f#@% around. And yes, I am aware that being injured makes you weak. My advice to someone with a running injury is to sprinkle salt on it and run through it. The problem will either heal itself or progress to a level of permanent damage and disfiguration, and if the latter happens then, well, you obviously weren't cut out to be an athlete anyway. Don't be a wuss.

DJ: Good advice bro. Sometimes I'll wake up in the morning and instead of putting a shirt on a I'll find a piece of cloth and staple it to my chest. That's tough.

DJ: Majorly tough bro. We should bro out sometime. (laughs)

DJ: So what is the rest of your life like? You're only like 19 right? Are you going to school? Working? What? WHAT?!?

DJ: That's right, I'll be 19 until Dec. 5th, after which I'll be...older. I attend school at Colorado State University in Fort Collins, funded entirely by donations raised through the Dakota Jones Association Foundation. I don't have a job because I live a fairy tale lifestyle where I don't work and only play, and my goal is to sort of continue doing that without any forethought until it all comes crashing to a painful halt and I have to get a job. Beyond that, sometimes I climb rocks without my shirt on.

So there you have it - a little look into my life. After re-reading this I've come to the realization that...I need more friends. Tell me about your life and maybe you'll get an interview on my blog, which is read by almost ten people nationwide!

Peace

The Reason

2010-04-26T21:22:00.000-07:00

Why do we run? That's a hard question; one that's made even harder when the scale of our races is considered. Most people have trouble even comprehending the idea of ultramarathon distance trail races, let alone categorize them to find meaning. I've thought about the reason I do this for a long time, mostly to no avail. But I have been able to pick out a few good reasons for why I force myself daily to suit up and go running for hours at a time. Here are the top three, in order from least important to most.

3.) The chicks. We all know the kind of babes that are out on the trails on a regular basis. Think Playboy in running clothes - it's awesome. A guy can hardly get in a run up in the high altitude wilderness these days without encountering several gaggles of these beautiful women jogging around. I used to be bashful and tried to avoid them, but thanks to the next two reasons on my list I now actively seek out the attention of these myriad groups of distance running honeys. Who knew that adventuring in the Weminuche was the best way to pick up chicks in the west?

2.) The money. I can't really mention numbers here, but I can say that my paycheck has more numbers than your name has letters - first and last. As a Montrail runner I'm more or less raking in the dinero left and right and I have to say: it suits me well. A lifestyle like mine with cars and jets and houses can't be supported by some podunk job at McDonald's or, so the gig I've got going is a good one. All I have to do is keep running and I'm pretty much guaranteed a plush salary for the rest of my life, plus benefits. I can still remember being a poor high school kid working odd jobs in Durango trying to scrape together enough money to keep training, and look how things have changed since then. Yes, the pro life is pretty sweet, and is doing a lot to keep me running.

1. The main reason I run, right here, for all the world to know.) The fame. More specifically, for a Calvin Klein ad of my own. The hope of being famous has always been an extremely motivating factor in my life, and this has carried through to my ultrarunning. When I realized that team sports weren't my thing, I turned to cross country. And when I realized that cross country is too competetive, I turned to ultrarunning. You see, I want to stand out not only as an athlete capable of the highest levels of scandal, but also as someone who has never worked a day in his life for the fortune he's earned. In other words, I want to be the Paris Hilton of ultrarunning, and that's why I choose to compete in an arcane fringe sport that almost nobody can relate to - no competition! It's great; as a teenager I naturally stand out, and if I can do even moderately well in races my public appeal will skyrocket. The ultimate goal of all this is the ultimate goal of any man's man - the Calvin Klein ad. My dream is to join to the ranks of Mark Wahlberg and Antonio Sabato, Jr. in the pages of Cosmo and other publications that appeal to people who actually care about underwear. This is the true mark of a successful famous person, and the ambition I work toward every single day.

I have no right to use this picture

Hopefully this sheds some light on the inner workings of an ultrarunner's mind. I know sometimes we can seem impersonal and unapproachable, but the main reason is because we all have this vision of women, money and fame that keeps us driving forward everyday, constantly working to attain our most fervent dreams of wanton excess. So next time you see me out running, come talk to me and take my picture. Then e-mail it to People magazine with a story of scandal and heartbreak that they would love to chronicle and thus propel me into the public spectacle. We all have to work together for our dreams.

The Red Hot 50K

2010-02-18T17:32:00.000-08:00

The Red Hot 50K traverses more than thirty miles of backcountry trails near Moab in an area that epitomizes what Southern Utah is known for, and with its early season timing is a great opportunity for snowbound runners to stretch their legs on some trail. Ironically, this year we experienced almost as much snow as could be found in the mountains, but this only added to the adventure. Simply put, Moab is awesome, and that’s why this race is so cool: because it displays exactly why Moab is awesome. People think of the desert and words like “dry” and “remote” and “hot” come to mind, but the desert has distinct seasons, as we found out this weekend, and those words don’t always apply. What does always apply, however, is the sense of adventure evoked by the land, and this resides in the hearts of those who visit. Evidence to this can be found in no better place than at the Red Hot, where adventurers from all over the country gather to see how fast they are in the desert. I’ve been lucky enough to be a part of the race twice, and maybe it’s because I grew up in Moab, or because I like a challenging course, or maybe it’s just the stunning views in every direction, but this is quite possibly my favorite race of all. Moab offers a unique landscape, and running the Red Hot 50K always turns out to be an experience just as unique.
Take, for example, the ridiculous amount of snow on the 50K course. Nobody slogging through a few miles of foot-deep sugary powder was thinking “hot” and “dry” - they were thinking “What!” Note the exclamation point; most of us came to this race to get out of the snow, so what the hell was it doing in Moab? Well, ultramarathons are all about overcoming the unexpected and conquering the unpredictable, and we certainly were forced to battle less than ideal conditions on Gemini Bridges. The race has never seen so much snow on course in the four years it has been running, and the race directors were even considering a last minute course change. Luckily, warmer temperatures the preceding week melted a sufficient amount of snow to keep the race normal. As a result, I found myself with several hundred other really fit people at the cold start line at 8:00 a.m. on Feb. 13, waiting for the gun to go off so we could head into the desert under a bright sunrise.
Do you like what you see? Let me know if anybody wants to read the rest. I could post it later.

New Blog

2010-01-27T19:17:00.000-08:00

If you're reading this right now, I'm assuming you heard about this either from me personally or saw my post on Montrail's Blog. Either way, you're the very first visitors to my brand new blog, and as such I want to reward you. How, you ask? Well, the answer is very simple. I'm going to give you money. My money. That's right, I'm going to use my personal funds to supply everyone who applies with enough money to buy some lunch and a pair of running shoes. All you have to do is fill out an application form and submit it to my agent. He can be found partway up Wham Ridge on Vestal Peak wearing a horizontally striped red shirt and eating a tuna sandwich. Watch out for imposter's. My agent can be recognized by his distinct moustache and inability to resist anything made by Montrail or Mountain Hardwear, although that last point may not distinguish him from anyone else in Colorado. When you reach him make sure to provide accurate insight into the shortcomings of the book 'Born to Run' by Christopher Mcdougall, but with due recognition of the substantial good qualities as well. Then he will give you the money, and you are free to go. But don't spend it all in one place: I stole it all and you might look suspicious with a whole bunch of money. Alright! So, make sure to check back here for more opportunities like this and to hear about all the stuff I may or may not be doing.