tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40098908240072602112024-03-05T02:07:15.616-08:00In the Long RunA blog about the journey, not the destinationtaratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-62739699299684972732022-09-18T17:53:00.012-07:002022-09-19T08:55:44.921-07:00WAM 100k 2022: "Snack Time Was Great Until it Wasn't"<p><span style="font-family: georgia;">In 2018, I attempted the inaugural WAM 100k, but a calf muscle strain forced me to drop out at the 60k mark. I have been signed up for the race ever since, but still hadn't completed it: in 2019, I dropped down to the 50k distance and then still dropped out of that race because my heart just wasn't in it; and then in both 2020 and 2021 the race was cancelled. With experience, I realized that part of my problem in both 2018 and 2019 was that I ran the Squamish 50k in August. I know a lot of people can do those back-to-back (they're about 3 weeks apart) , but for me they are much too close together to be fully physically and mentally ready for WAM. This year, I made WAM my only goal trail race and was determined to get to that finish line - but then in April, I ended up injured again, with my old nemesis hamstring issue that flares up every now and then. As I worked through that injury with strength building and physio, I found that although I couldn't run at all, I could hike - and so I spent all of May and most of June doing tons of vertical hikes in Squamish and North Vancouver. This was a very unusual start to the summer running season for me - normally at that shoulder season time of year I'd be building my base mileage with runnable forest runs, before the real alpine running opens up. But because my natural inclination is to run (the road runner in me lives on, I guess), steep hiking is not what I would consider one of my strengths - and so I used this time to work on that aspect of my training. By mid-July, I was finally able to manage a 20k run, and from there I decided to just carefully build up my mileage toward WAM in September, without really expecting to be able to get to that 100k distance but hopeful that I could at least run the 50k.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">We had a very cold and rainy spring this year, so the alpine opened up later than normal and the timing (late July) happened to coincide with when I was able to start running long distances again. I spent the summer essentially playing in the mountains with friends, feeling stronger and stronger as the runs piled on. And slowly, the hope started to creep back in - could I maybe actually attempt the 100k? Sometime in August I started to feel confident that I could do it, and mentally committed to toeing the line.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Fast forward to race day: At 5 a.m. on Sept 10, my friends Hilary, Katie and I trotted off the start line together along the lovely gravel path that eases you into the trails. The last time I started WAM, I realized a couple things very quickly: my headlamp was terrible, and my eyesight in the dark was even worse (side note: generally it is a wise idea to find these things out <i>before</i> the race, not during it ;) Knowing this, I had a much better headlamp this time around and was kitted out in an ancient pair of glasses that I could just throw in my pack once the sun came up. What a difference this made! Vision is highly underrated, I tell you. </span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Fdzzsnc-tcfq5-FJGo4XjlHTia3qiaOvZ1HPxVZAQ6OjZBeDCsrQzRaF2qUj3Qyp8drdOjR8PNiIp0huYw7b-Q1S1ZtqvFFFSYSicexCQ3MoOaDEK6IgA0JVlFBnf11UIXYhQjvCq_-Wl0MBG0_3p0PE2B4DC2qC5VW7OzQ-VuozGL5CA3MY4IjX/s3000/WAM2022-100KStart-SRobarts-12.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="3000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Fdzzsnc-tcfq5-FJGo4XjlHTia3qiaOvZ1HPxVZAQ6OjZBeDCsrQzRaF2qUj3Qyp8drdOjR8PNiIp0huYw7b-Q1S1ZtqvFFFSYSicexCQ3MoOaDEK6IgA0JVlFBnf11UIXYhQjvCq_-Wl0MBG0_3p0PE2B4DC2qC5VW7OzQ-VuozGL5CA3MY4IjX/w640-h426/WAM2022-100KStart-SRobarts-12.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">5 a.m. start. Me, Katie, and Hilary in the left foreground. Pic by Scott Robarts.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The three of us set a strong, steady pace from the beginning, moving efficiently and comfortably through the twisting forested trails before starting the steep climb up Blackcomb Mountain. Some dude said to Katie "is this really the pace you want to be setting?" and we basically just laughed as we ran past him (spoiler alert: Katie won the women's race and finished 5th overall. So, yeah. That was the pace to be setting). The sun was rising as we popped out of the trees and we could see the brilliant full moon still in the sky. It was stunning, and for the millionth time I took a moment to be awestruck by the beauty of this place that we are so lucky to run in. It was also such a stark contrast to the 2018 WAM, which was pouring rain, and so cold that it was actually snowing in the alpine. I'm no delicate creature, but I must say: when you know you're going to be out there all day, it is a pretty big mental boost to have great weather.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrwIbAh81NvWXXu3zjDJQrxvmeJhDG-E8szsNUO3F7kD0iAfmhCF5ogRoY0el220GAWRn7RDtPvIBBsN-q1Cu-zCFb81Kt78mKtqioBd_2-YrXJahYpysrWQcMm5TiNvFySoA8nPvvRAzzqJYPQBN7A7oUgX-9HxT9b7jQk19luAW7hNqawbBHju9V/s4032/IMG_1042.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrwIbAh81NvWXXu3zjDJQrxvmeJhDG-E8szsNUO3F7kD0iAfmhCF5ogRoY0el220GAWRn7RDtPvIBBsN-q1Cu-zCFb81Kt78mKtqioBd_2-YrXJahYpysrWQcMm5TiNvFySoA8nPvvRAzzqJYPQBN7A7oUgX-9HxT9b7jQk19luAW7hNqawbBHju9V/w640-h480/IMG_1042.HEIC" title="Sunrise over Whistler village and Rainbow mountain" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise over Whistler village and Rainbow mountain</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">As we merrily chugged our way up Blackcomb, we (perhaps tempting fate) started talking about how amazing it would be if we were the eventual women's podium. I've been on the podium with two friends once before in a race (my last ultra, actually - the 2019 Squamish 50k), and it is the BEST feeling. But, it was very early in the race at this point, and there was a lot of running left to do: if I've learned anything in my now 8 years of experience running ultras, it's that anything can happen over these distances. As we rolled over the Lakeside and Decker trails at the top of Blackcomb mountain, our little train stretched out a bit, but we were never running far apart.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">One really fun thing about our race course is that as we topped out on Blackcomb we started crossing paths with the 100 mile racers, who at that point were doing the same trails in the opposite direction to us, near the end of their race that had started at 7 a.m. the day before. So instead of focusing on our own races, mostly we talked obsessively about when we would cross paths with Tory, knowing that we should see her somewhere in her last 20k, sometime mid-morning (she was in the lead, which we knew from updates from friends). As it happened, we saw her at the best possible moment: we had all come back together after an aid station, and were running down a service road right as she popped out of a trail heading up. We were at roughly 25k into our race, and she was at roughly <i>145k </i>into hers. Much screaming and hugging and a little crying ensued. It was perfect.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY2iP646HbUiKDmjsAiYO_P7jgML9iyLYJn1jZsC-5Rx-N75tKSP0pYvMS1yCkPxaVgabn4OPK-fteON4vchBZIQ1zU5ZWcXFXV5seCCvfMhSzGYbFJcpogLwNboJiFPt62u6bDSJCV9ZPD2tB1CXRsohzp-cZf38dtZsmcLtiGaOUdgiNMfzVS3HB/s1275/Picture1.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1275" data-original-width="1177" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY2iP646HbUiKDmjsAiYO_P7jgML9iyLYJn1jZsC-5Rx-N75tKSP0pYvMS1yCkPxaVgabn4OPK-fteON4vchBZIQ1zU5ZWcXFXV5seCCvfMhSzGYbFJcpogLwNboJiFPt62u6bDSJCV9ZPD2tB1CXRsohzp-cZf38dtZsmcLtiGaOUdgiNMfzVS3HB/w590-h640/Picture1.png" width="590" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Team Unicorn causing a scene, as usual. Pics all by Katie.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Seeing Tory put us all on a huge high and we were so happy running down the Ascent trail. I was taking my downhills quite cautiously, which is unusual for me - I'm not sure why it was happening but it seemed to be what my body wanted to do, so I just went with it - and Katie and Hil got ahead of me as we ran back down the mountain. I rolled through the aid station at 30k 5 minutes behind them, and did a food and water exchange with my good friend Hailey, who had kindly offered to crew for me the day before running her own 50k (that aid station was the only place on course we were allowed to have crew). She seemed very surprised at how much food I was asking her to stuff into my vest, ha - but my plan was to not stop for my next drop bag until the 70k mark, so I wanted to make sure I had enough calories with me. Side note about the calorie intake: Hilary, Katie and I were all on the same "eat every half hour" fuelling plan, so when we were together one of us would always holler "SNACK TIME!" at the half hour mark. It was quite helpful and very funny, at least in the early stages of the race when the stomach was still cooperating.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I<span style="font-family: georgia;"> started up Singing Pass, which is a long runnable grade uphill single track trail that brings you to the alpine on Whistler mountain. My climbing was feeling strong, so I did a hike/jog combo, fairly quickly bumping into Hil and Katie again. We stayed together for most of the climb after that, with Katie pulling ahead once we reached the Musical Bumps trail at around 40k. As I watched her bright pink shirt disappear (quickly) into the distance, that was the last time I saw her for the rest of the day. Hilary and I continued doing our little accordion dance, and split up and came back together several more times right up until the 70k point. We had another endorphins boost when we crossed paths with our friend Linda on Oboe mountain (one of the "bumps"), who as usual was running strong in the 100 miler.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUk6uNBJoGIggHd87XY_1XR4VjgSkUa_OgnQM2n2MGr5S05dVMdaZbkSvCoQil-5uYVqXPTrzi2I5NudUWBTpIp754DB7_HRF9YRCu9E5wV5XpgwYm1gt0_tW_LXDJZ0mbCBH3Oh-w4Dkcg0Kp1gLj46d0Io73AT_z-DCCs_r6k0u89iSvQVVUP9q/s5277/373A0360.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3518" data-original-width="5277" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUk6uNBJoGIggHd87XY_1XR4VjgSkUa_OgnQM2n2MGr5S05dVMdaZbkSvCoQil-5uYVqXPTrzi2I5NudUWBTpIp754DB7_HRF9YRCu9E5wV5XpgwYm1gt0_tW_LXDJZ0mbCBH3Oh-w4Dkcg0Kp1gLj46d0Io73AT_z-DCCs_r6k0u89iSvQVVUP9q/w640-h426/373A0360.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Running happy on Musical Bumps trail, on top of Whistler mountain. Pic by Brian McCurdy.</span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">I was having an amazing day so far, but somewhere around the 45k point, I started feeling quite nauseated. I found that I could still force food in without feeling really any worse for wear, but it was definitely getting harder to adhere to the Snack Time schedule. It was a very hot day (around 30 degrees) and being in the exposed alpine at the height of the heat was beautiful but definitely contributed to the stomach starting to rebel. Once we left Musical Bumps and Half Note trail, we took a very steep road (Matthew's Traverse) up to Whistler peak, and that road was quite a grind. Hilary and I hiked it together, stopping to scoop some snow onto our heads and necks. We came into the aid station at the peak, at 50k, in about 7h45, which was much faster than either of us had really anticipated being there. Hil looked at me and said "do you think we can negative split this race?" (run the second half faster than the first) and I basically just dissolved in laughter (hard NO.).</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">As I made my way ever downward from the peak, my nausea was worsening. I definitely couldn't manage anything solid, but was still able to force gels down, even though I constantly felt like I was going to throw up. The rest of my body was holding up amazingly well - I had no muscle soreness or niggles developing, and this kept my spirits high even though I felt so sick. The new route down after Khyber Pass was a nice rolling trail called Kashmir that I really enjoyed. There was an aid station on the service road at the end of this trail, that we ran through at 60k on the way down and then again at 70k on the way up. I stopped briefly on the way down to re-fill water and eat half a banana, which seemed to settle ok.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">After the aid station we ran down a service road for a couple kilometres before joining the trail system in Cheakamus, a gentle rolling/basically flat single track that looped us back around via the tall suspension bridge across the Cheakamus River. I caught up to Hilary again, and found out that she was also dealing with nausea. As we walk-jogged a section we in normal circumstances would 100% be running, I admitted to her that I was frustrated that even though my legs felt so strong, I couldn't run fast because of my stomach. In her infinite wisdom, she just side-eyed me and told me that "it's 100k. We're supposed to be feeling like this" - and for some reason, that made all the difference. Of course it's supposed to hurt, somewhere, and at some point! Was I expecting it not to? It made me laugh, and snapped me out of the frustration and into a more positive mindset. When we reached the 70k aid station again at around 11.5 hours elapsed, Hilary was in and out quickly but I got my drop bag and sat myself down for a bit to re-set. I changed my buff, pulled my poles out of the bag, and swapped out all my solid foods for gels, hoping I could continue to eat those. I drank a little soup at the aid station, but even that wasn't going down very well. We had seen the 4th and 5th place women leaving the aid station on their way down as we were coming back up, so I knew that we were solidly in podium positions. But I also knew I had the long and steep climb back up to the peak ahead of me to do on very little energy, so shuffled my way back onto the trail, determined to top out before sunset. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">I've done that climb several times in training, and it is brutal on fresh legs, never mind after having covered 70k. I felt like I was still moving fairly efficiently uphill, though, somehow - I really don't understand where the energy came from, since I had eaten so little in the last few hours. Thank goodness for the military precision of Snack Time in those earlier miles - the front-loading of calories seemed to be sustaining me well enough. I crossed paths with quite a few 100k runners coming down the mountain, and it was a nice boost to be exchanging encouragement with people. I was completely exhausted on the final push up High Note Trail, and of course that's right where Brian was perched to snap this incredible shot that so perfectly illustrates how I was feeling:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcyvLe4U2t_3F8pV7f2wY0X9HsEzdQrvviSy_zwd2P0hB6yaxNd4a3_nYQjYpvRKG-jZNrFinnwIIbYT853OjxABOIOf_pbtDxnukuI9qg3f06t5sPtGYRd53Hm-DbgTgf9q6uuwWDH-v92xBYUwXCuCWr0ILCJjCRWXmECrTVE3xFm8GCSA4VZfrZ/s2048/306415951_5416145148498485_4607486763504331433_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1296" data-original-width="2048" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcyvLe4U2t_3F8pV7f2wY0X9HsEzdQrvviSy_zwd2P0hB6yaxNd4a3_nYQjYpvRKG-jZNrFinnwIIbYT853OjxABOIOf_pbtDxnukuI9qg3f06t5sPtGYRd53Hm-DbgTgf9q6uuwWDH-v92xBYUwXCuCWr0ILCJjCRWXmECrTVE3xFm8GCSA4VZfrZ/w640-h406/306415951_5416145148498485_4607486763504331433_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exhausted, but still moving forward. Pic by Brian McCurdy.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Shortly after that photo was taken, I finally threw up, just before I reached the peak aid station. It actually felt good in a way, since my stomach had been threatening to do it for 35k. I staggered into the aid station tent, sat down, and told myself I wasn't leaving until I got some food in me. I chatted with Sasha, who hilariously told me I looked pretty good ("...like, not pale or anything"), and altogether got a little too comfortable sitting there. I had a couple sips of miso soup and managed to eat a slice of quesadilla, and then finally sort of remembered I was in a race and got my butt moving again, back down Matthew's Traverse. Unfortunately, running down the road proved a little too unsettling, and the quesadilla made its way back up right before I crossed paths with my good friend Malin, who was sweeping the 100k (following the last runner on course). I was so happy to see her but I think I just shouted something like "you just missed the puke party!" as I ran past - not that nice of a welcome, sorry Malin. Luckily, she happened to win the 2019 version of this race, so is no stranger to how it feels in the late stages of it.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo5rOqnU-Y2L_f-Xpr7szHIT2l594a8eKM-kz68gdchi73oVTq6QIJaAB6IBNsUmuidJ_rerEF0Bhw-iBj8KHyMAjBwOMAqtYurOHChA0dLQl1-8kKXXUOFqi52lTVp6dlnXHjK6VD-Ol5eM3b57OGClg2tCE1N5HAWf9WoHpojyu1fwli990rEaHN/s3820/IMG_4482.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2547" data-original-width="3820" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo5rOqnU-Y2L_f-Xpr7szHIT2l594a8eKM-kz68gdchi73oVTq6QIJaAB6IBNsUmuidJ_rerEF0Bhw-iBj8KHyMAjBwOMAqtYurOHChA0dLQl1-8kKXXUOFqi52lTVp6dlnXHjK6VD-Ol5eM3b57OGClg2tCE1N5HAWf9WoHpojyu1fwli990rEaHN/w640-h426/IMG_4482.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The quesadilla: It was good while it lasted. Pic by Sasha Brown.</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">There are a lot of things that amaze me about running distances this long, and one of them is the nature of time during the race. It sometimes seems to be crawling, sometimes racing (especially when you are dreading the next Snack Time), but at some point I always seem to look at my watch and think "How is it even possible that I am still running?". As I made my way back over the Musical Bumps, the sun was setting behind me and it was just the most magical experience, certainly one of the coolest ones I have ever had. I was entirely alone on the trail (although I realize now that Hilary wasn't that far ahead of me, but I couldn't see her at all), it was completely silent, and I watched the day turn to night as I ran on top of a mountain. It was incredible how long it stayed light for, owing to the clear sky, full moon, and no tree cover - I didn't need to turn my headlamp back on until I was heading down from Oboe, sometime after 8 pm. The trusty old glasses made it back onto my face and I started back into the forest.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5y_nCoQ2EEF9mpoRjtcx73CNasWqHAVDbpMiRr-w06mP0GsbjcPm12ncNEQtuAbVVPRr5OMYwviEoN5WN3law-MDR__wwFqhzp7ZIATBloIImt8AI0jxZmO-uqpEg4Ayqk4HtjcIZJdphE_FzccyHS1dBRRJUnohxY53-e351y540NkK6yo2hLCyY/s4032/IMG_1046.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5y_nCoQ2EEF9mpoRjtcx73CNasWqHAVDbpMiRr-w06mP0GsbjcPm12ncNEQtuAbVVPRr5OMYwviEoN5WN3law-MDR__wwFqhzp7ZIATBloIImt8AI0jxZmO-uqpEg4Ayqk4HtjcIZJdphE_FzccyHS1dBRRJUnohxY53-e351y540NkK6yo2hLCyY/w640-h480/IMG_1046.HEIC" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset behind Black Tusk from Flute summit</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Running down Singing Pass was a somewhat comical attempt at staying positive while feeling so queasy</span>. <span style="font-family: georgia;">My legs still felt great, but every time I tried to pick up the pace a little I almost threw up, so I would have to dial it back. I ended up bargaining with myself that I would run until my watch beeped the next kilometre, and then I would walk a little to let my stomach settle. It was basically the world's slowest interval workout (while running downhill, ha). I was getting quite emotional, though, visualizing that finish line and knowing how hard I had worked for this. Emerging from the trail back into the open bike park area just above Whistler Village was overwhelming - I knew that it was now a short trek over to the base of Blackcomb mountain to the finish line and I forced myself to just run. I got a bit of a rude shock when I realized that the finish line was not, in fact, at the aid station we had run through at 30k (which was my completely false understanding), but instead was up a hill and around a corner from there. I actually ran through the aid station yelling/whimpering "WHERE IS IT?!" and Nick (the aid station captain) I think took pity on me and shepherded me up the hill in the right direction.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Soon enough I saw the twinkling lights of the finish line area, and then as I rounded a corner up a little hill I heard John Crosby on the mic say "and here's someone showing off by sprinting to the finish line", which I thought was pretty funny considering the pace at which I was moving. I shouted back "I am definitely NOT sprinting, John!", but I don't think anyone heard me. I crossed the line and was swallowed in hugs by Hilary and Katie, with Brendan trying to take photos as I jabbered somewhat deliriously about all the puking (which it turns out both Katie and Hil also did on the way back down from the peak). But the train was reunited once more, as the women's podium and 5th, 9th, and 11th overall among 83 racers who finished (and 105 who started). We had literally and figuratively come a long way since dreaming about this just after sunrise that morning on Blackcomb.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5FRBanOklO_AxyYFSv6M5o5-RqfaDx4UgqG8xiteCIA4Xni761hJZAPaRg8R7XetK2HBG18QjzO7gMIcxrOSCXN_lAtcrxcoRGv2zcZxK37KE01YhSRYK_D0z6Fzp2ry4wTwH1TLUdiXpxbErUaqYH3_e34reB-dWHB52l8jFOtR4cAIRFurLXJA6/s3000/WAM2022-100K100MFinishers-SRobarts-104.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="3000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5FRBanOklO_AxyYFSv6M5o5-RqfaDx4UgqG8xiteCIA4Xni761hJZAPaRg8R7XetK2HBG18QjzO7gMIcxrOSCXN_lAtcrxcoRGv2zcZxK37KE01YhSRYK_D0z6Fzp2ry4wTwH1TLUdiXpxbErUaqYH3_e34reB-dWHB52l8jFOtR4cAIRFurLXJA6/w640-h426/WAM2022-100K100MFinishers-SRobarts-104.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another podium of friends. How lucky am I? Pic by Scott Robarts.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">As I write this post, it is a week after the race and I have never felt so good after an ultra. My legs had almost no muscle soreness afterward, which I still find incredibly bizarre - I guess the combination of doing so much vertical up and down in training, and the fact that the race had such a nice mix of running and hiking. I also stayed fairly well hydrated all day; since I was having such trouble getting food in, I was at least making sure to drink lots (although even water seemed repellent to me, but at least it would go down). Katie perfectly summed up the day for all of us with regard to the nausea when she said "Snack Time was great... until it wasn't). My stomach seems to have since recovered, though it did take me a few days to be able to eat my usual large portions of food again(!).</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Mostly I'm left with the lingering sense of an amazing adventure in the mountains on some of my favourite trails, and the joy of having had the good fortune to spend so much of the day with friends. I had built this finish up so much in my mind as a kind of "redemption" run (<i>take that, WAM!</i>), but in the end that's not really how I feel. I'm happy and excited to have finished it, of course, but that never even came into question before or during the race - I knew that unless I had some major physical injury (like last time), I would get to that finish line. I'm happy and excited to be on the podium, but that was never really my goal so it is just a very sweet icing on the cake, especially sharing it with Katie and Hilary. I think what I am taking away from this experience is real pride in my mindset and how positive I stayed throughout the day - I know for certain if I had let myself get into a negative headspace that it would have been very hard to get out of it. I had fun all day, truly - even when I was feeling awful - and that makes all the difference. So 2022 WAM 100k feels like its own accomplishment, not some kind of getting back at 2018 WAM, which I think is just how it should be. It feels more like an opening of a chapter than a closing of one, in that the race still holds a lot of my curiosity: I can say with certainty that I'll be back. But for now: rest and recovery, and revelling in achieving a goal that I've held for a really long time. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6uGJpSQKqF1jIS3kugFI3vP_UrAekodmXT3BMwlvvBdI6FxSYyEyWcIYEjeFm62o3o0uKEs-SNhRLzAuQJpaxz9hF2S8pDb86c_66WpYi-6bSdTqMe0rPa_Mm8axi1IMJX1as_K-oQK3DwG91cjdpEvsfzlVotenrxJ1yNhDBjQbDCLIIR32hvyZS/s5398/IMG_4497.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3008" data-original-width="5398" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6uGJpSQKqF1jIS3kugFI3vP_UrAekodmXT3BMwlvvBdI6FxSYyEyWcIYEjeFm62o3o0uKEs-SNhRLzAuQJpaxz9hF2S8pDb86c_66WpYi-6bSdTqMe0rPa_Mm8axi1IMJX1as_K-oQK3DwG91cjdpEvsfzlVotenrxJ1yNhDBjQbDCLIIR32hvyZS/w640-h356/IMG_4497.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mission accomplished. Pic by Sasha Brown.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><u>The final numbers:</u></span></p><div style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Distance 102 km/63 miles<br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Ascent + Descent 6,000 m/20,000 ft<br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia;">16h47<br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia;">3rd Female | 11th overall (83 finishers; 105 starters)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSg7eHm9NIZASWkmDJKU1tdpiRaNEoLoxK4aeM4CHf8Y9gdwTpg4Pz47GyK0Vmn0jrFWeojwvuKJ737wQqNGW-7QqlHlHKVxnMajXE8Wmva8JNG46dmxyWDu3-W8Uh2UTJh4xOR-ZTUHHsKJpSFe-acujeHPYeod-bPKID4LTpfCova0NDkKgqptLX/s1039/2022_100K-map-04-3-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1039" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSg7eHm9NIZASWkmDJKU1tdpiRaNEoLoxK4aeM4CHf8Y9gdwTpg4Pz47GyK0Vmn0jrFWeojwvuKJ737wQqNGW-7QqlHlHKVxnMajXE8Wmva8JNG46dmxyWDu3-W8Uh2UTJh4xOR-ZTUHHsKJpSFe-acujeHPYeod-bPKID4LTpfCova0NDkKgqptLX/w493-h640/2022_100K-map-04-3-1.jpeg" width="493" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a course! The first climb is Blackcomb, the second and third are Whistler.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><p></p>taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-75243145525547175812019-08-20T17:28:00.000-07:002019-08-28T09:17:16.576-07:00Squamish 50k 2019: That One Perfect Day<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In running, it's really unusual for everything to perfectly fall into place on race day. Getting to the start line healthy is hard enough, never mind how your training block goes leading up to the race. Even if those pieces both align, on the day itself there are myriad factors that are out of your control that can throw a wrench into even the best-laid race plans: weather can be awful, trails can be in rough shape, your stomach or legs or mind can rebel on you. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Squamish 50 this year was that rare ... dare I say, unicorn of races for me. I had my perfect day, and I am honestly still trying to process everything that happened.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6rmmqI9YYjvB_VulvPWmt9zInI1vfUFjkaMi399Aj1-LWeTRRk5uTfxKx-V8VW4sW6SEcJvar8_uaBFW7jFDrQ0zyC4dSA4PpTyYat45avtAMr1jB_5TjWIcrZQ-lFPXIJTWA1cdUQXA/s1600/HM_SQ50-7142.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6rmmqI9YYjvB_VulvPWmt9zInI1vfUFjkaMi399Aj1-LWeTRRk5uTfxKx-V8VW4sW6SEcJvar8_uaBFW7jFDrQ0zyC4dSA4PpTyYat45avtAMr1jB_5TjWIcrZQ-lFPXIJTWA1cdUQXA/s640/HM_SQ50-7142.jpg" width="512" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Shocked about the race result, and also the height to which that cork reached. Photo: Hilary Matheson</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For 3 years I have said (quietly, and only to Brendan and a couple close friends) that if I had the perfect race I was sure I could run 6:15 on the Squamish 50k course. I've experienced so many setbacks training for this race over the last 6 years, but in the 4 years I have managed to run it, I've improved my finish time each attempt by quite a large margin (from 7:12 in 2014 to 6:55 in 2015 to 6:36 in 2018). That progression is due to a combination of factors: gaining trail running experience, honing my skills running over technical terrain, building stamina and strength for all the climbing, descending, and long hours on my feet, and gradually increasing my confidence racing the 50k distance. Over the last 2 years, I've had the most consistent stint of running that I have ever had. I came into Sunday's 50k having run over 2000 km and climbed over 75,000 m so far in 2019. I had a smooth and targeted training block, peaking with fairly low mileage (~85k/week), but running some really encouraging workouts. I knew that my fitness and speed was there this year, and I went into the race excited yet calm about the day ahead.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Dg4az7y8VAskpFRyM07w95mSZKAEUsaR2ox4lMRnZ8M-LPZYv3d_dlPprifSZOjfecYuI752hchvysvu3nAFxL4_Zq4YZ_hMN1i8MZ51vMCvM3Gg2rqHzJu5IcpOF4-8wRQXxZCJrVw/s1600/IMG_0988.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Dg4az7y8VAskpFRyM07w95mSZKAEUsaR2ox4lMRnZ8M-LPZYv3d_dlPprifSZOjfecYuI752hchvysvu3nAFxL4_Zq4YZ_hMN1i8MZ51vMCvM3Gg2rqHzJu5IcpOF4-8wRQXxZCJrVw/s640/IMG_0988.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">At the start. Photo: Brendan Hunt</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">On Saturday night, Brendan gave me two pieces of advice: to (a) </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">run a consistent effort all day, and (b) </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">just run my own race and not worry about what anyone else was doing around me - and this is exactly what I did. The start line was a new one this year, moved down to the bottom of Alice Lake Rd so that we had about a mile to run before funnelling into the trail (it also adds on 1 km to the total race distance from prior years). I loved this new start line - the longer road section with a sizeable hill right off the bat managed to spread the field out so much that by the time we hit the traihead I found myself running with just Hailey, as if we were on a regular Sunday run together. It was absolutely perfect, and made for such a relaxing way to start the day. I settled into a comfortable, strong pace, right away realizing that I was feeling really, really good. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">By the time I reached the first aid station at the Corners, I had already almost made up the time from that extra km (my goal had been to even it out by the Quest aid station, meaning I would come in there at the same time as I did last year). I was slightly worried that I had started too fast, but mentally checked in with my effort and knew that it was sustainable. I ran through the aid station without stopping and was soon running with Brydhi along Northside Connector and into Galactic, the first major ascent of the day (about 650 m of climbing over 5 km). I started up and, feeling strong, pulled into the lead and chugged a steady pace up the hill, surprising myself with how quickly I reached the top. Danielle, a powerhouse downhill runner, caught up to me at the bottom of IMBA Smart and we chatted a little and ran together down Fred until she stopped at the Word of Mouth aid station because she was out of water. At about 18k into the race, I took the lead and held onto it for the rest of the day.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcRY-qQy6GWCSbr7xD3tsfc4TZ_aLbLyJDS8P9ALWqSWwJUW2-2_Wn8H3ASoyGs0_4j4ZruJxld-gIpeGTYeebV_5-sapK15J8baWpIFnOMn6dDbHmQfexGPjV3J2Pv-HRCkVYuLW7yqQ/s1600/Fred-BMcC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcRY-qQy6GWCSbr7xD3tsfc4TZ_aLbLyJDS8P9ALWqSWwJUW2-2_Wn8H3ASoyGs0_4j4ZruJxld-gIpeGTYeebV_5-sapK15J8baWpIFnOMn6dDbHmQfexGPjV3J2Pv-HRCkVYuLW7yqQ/s640/Fred-BMcC.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Dancing down Fred with Danielle. Photo: Brian McCurdy</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I came into Quest right on schedule with 2:52 elapsed, grinning like a maniac at the hoopla from what seemed like my own personal cheering section. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Tory, Katie, Hilary, Brendan, and my mom all taking photos as I ran up the stairs. Kelly is the best crew in the world - we did a super quick bottle exchange and I was on my way again in what Brendan said was about 30 seconds. I wanted to get out of there before any of the women behind me could see me and give chase. I later found out that Brydhi and Danielle came in together, only about 2 minutes back. </span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt32VxUw-iN7sUqR_IiOEUXtYUpn7KyGU2SFzbQAeX-2rLk0nvHwpE6hgTDhF6znZCqGlD5UXDFR4af2OZfO_o_3fCNm-OOrWuI6yfv3ArEW73sYzMU9Zqw-PZuFXaCSLAL3CsGN8yYPo/s1600/IMG_1002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt32VxUw-iN7sUqR_IiOEUXtYUpn7KyGU2SFzbQAeX-2rLk0nvHwpE6hgTDhF6znZCqGlD5UXDFR4af2OZfO_o_3fCNm-OOrWuI6yfv3ArEW73sYzMU9Zqw-PZuFXaCSLAL3CsGN8yYPo/s640/IMG_1002.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Running into the Quest Aid Station in the lead, at 24k into the race. Photo: Brendan Hunt</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I set out for the Legacy Climb trail, which has previously been my nemesis in this race (even though I run it all the time in training, and absolutely love it). My friends Starr and Corey and their kids surprised me on the road cheering at a somewhat random spot, which gave me such a boost as I headed ever upward from Quest. I ran by far my fastest time up the 6.5k long Climb that I've done in the race, and I owe that (and all my other uphills on Sunday) up to this: I put it in my mind that climbing was my strength. For the last few years, I have felt like my uphills have been terrible in races, and to compensate I have just sprinted downhill as fast as I could to try to make up time. I have made it a point this year in my training to work on my uphill, and it has paid off for sure - but even more important, I think, was my mindset about it. Having the confidence to run the climbs stronger meant that I could take advantage of the downhills as recovery, instead of frantically running down them with my heart racing. I still ran them fast, but not as recklessly as I have been known to do. The result of this strategy was that I had tons of energy for the more runnable, rolling trails and road sections, and I felt like I got into an incredible flow state every time I was on one of those parts of the course, floating fairly effortlessly over the trail.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was such foreign territory for me to be leading the women's race, and many people afterward asked me if I was "running scared". It really didn't feel like that at all, though. I was honestly just running exactly how I wanted to run, according to how I was feeling, and didn't give much thought to what was happening behind me. I've never had a race before where I was so easily able to focus purely on the present moment: every time my mind wandered to the familiar thoughts of "how far do I have to go", etc., I shut that thought down and told myself to just think about the kilometre I was in. I had no low points all day, and every time I started to feel a little tired I thought of my friend Jenny, running (as it turned out, really closely) behind me in her second race of the weekend, after already having run a blazing fast 50 miles the day before. I knew she would be smiling, and that made me smile - which always makes you feel better (it's true - ask science). </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNHkfisEpC8ZOLOC1ROjEWXV3MH-wKcC0aS9bTF7hZ0zkGNHvZ4SEUdI7AR98XgB1yaUSkErslGarTAvaFi8oFCUg6m8YP8lThybdMXwAfJ-tlz83My2hddJYpg5OUGX2XKkvIIeMMxM0/s1600/HM_SQ50-7108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNHkfisEpC8ZOLOC1ROjEWXV3MH-wKcC0aS9bTF7hZ0zkGNHvZ4SEUdI7AR98XgB1yaUSkErslGarTAvaFi8oFCUg6m8YP8lThybdMXwAfJ-tlz83My2hddJYpg5OUGX2XKkvIIeMMxM0/s640/HM_SQ50-7108.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Reaching Farside Aid Station - only 11k to go from here. Photo: Hilary Matheson</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I rolled up the road into the final aid station at Farside still having no real concept of how much of a lead I had. Another quick exchange with Kelly - this time I dropped my whole vest with her and picked up just a handheld bottle with water, which was AMAZING. It felt so freeing to run without the vest after 5 hours that I felt like I was practically sprinting up the trail. (I am quite sure I was not, however, sprinting). I was definitely tiring in that last 11k but kept up that same steady effort, popping out of the trail at the bottom of the Smoke Bluffs stairs with 6:02 elapsed. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And for the first time all day, I felt it. I felt the enormity of the potential of winning this race - THIS, my favourite race in the world that has more meaning to me than any other - and yes, started to run a tiny bit scared. I reached the parking lot and must have looked over my shoulder 4 times on that final 2k road stretch, and it wasn't until I crossed the road to the sight of orange cones leading into the park that I breathed a sigh of relief and let myself soak up that moment. </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQWIi7au4sGG04SeaZnGxuCekc_2-vJ7OqJHTOw0bnyU5pQqdit1hDH8bt3YghPASMLTvCLzSsXkH9OU-7AKY_lvZ6eMUCTCEpIC5-d2pnPy6JvNXCiYIVu5xTXjbQHYw9vnhL07lLWfU/s1600/HM_SQ50-7138.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQWIi7au4sGG04SeaZnGxuCekc_2-vJ7OqJHTOw0bnyU5pQqdit1hDH8bt3YghPASMLTvCLzSsXkH9OU-7AKY_lvZ6eMUCTCEpIC5-d2pnPy6JvNXCiYIVu5xTXjbQHYw9vnhL07lLWfU/s640/HM_SQ50-7138.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Commence the celebration. Photo: Hilary Matheson</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And What. A. Moment! Crossing the finish line was a complete blur: Gary announcing my name as the winner; Brendan and my mom hugging me; Kelly, Tory, Hilary, and Katie all screaming, at least half of us crying, and so many friends and extended trail family cheering. It was overwhelming and incredible and I will re-live that moment for a long, long time. And as if it couldn't get any better - 15 minutes later Hailey came sprinting across the line in second, with Jenny right behind her! It was quite the gong show spectacle of us all hugging and crying and essentially losing our minds. I seriously felt like I was going to explode from happiness, and I am still riding that high.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3L1-BU6mzTcuFwdv6TyJH1hfVh0_7QYjeBqBpX4iOJKiJW6iKX-o5E1w2tCAQSZkkofUp4B2qmQwFhGuHm_buFriXCFMBsu1P-tbedskIJdcjoKHuuYCgJWZGztHxuJZUjgyNGyExVc/s1600/Finish-SB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3L1-BU6mzTcuFwdv6TyJH1hfVh0_7QYjeBqBpX4iOJKiJW6iKX-o5E1w2tCAQSZkkofUp4B2qmQwFhGuHm_buFriXCFMBsu1P-tbedskIJdcjoKHuuYCgJWZGztHxuJZUjgyNGyExVc/s640/Finish-SB.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That finish line feeling. Photo: Sasha Brown</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-6oGmxalZzWcpVE3Xplu8X0qr352lnMRmAFUxXnYamq3CYWz7CuTbnlKaHK6DjNwoFTHCwjMTraY9B9B6m-CJqr-4qNNTeRdnDd0RcLrIoxqUG_7ZH1d9_j83x_jQDeXwM1AqxdAkQ8w/s1600/HM_SQ50-7256.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-6oGmxalZzWcpVE3Xplu8X0qr352lnMRmAFUxXnYamq3CYWz7CuTbnlKaHK6DjNwoFTHCwjMTraY9B9B6m-CJqr-4qNNTeRdnDd0RcLrIoxqUG_7ZH1d9_j83x_jQDeXwM1AqxdAkQ8w/s640/HM_SQ50-7256.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">The moment after Hailey and Jenny crossed the line. Photo: Hilary Matheson </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAd9NXmTj-8-Bo6Ty7ZPORfehNhIT3k18V3ApbvybqqblySVVGqtE0OF98RTDIA4T5aZ6YOTr8z1M5DwS-t6shCDhCA6FHudkx0coxrcOZgWesAjoaC9kGEFRzu9mm_lXTtsbapnf-oS4/s1600/HM_SQ50-7376.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAd9NXmTj-8-Bo6Ty7ZPORfehNhIT3k18V3ApbvybqqblySVVGqtE0OF98RTDIA4T5aZ6YOTr8z1M5DwS-t6shCDhCA6FHudkx0coxrcOZgWesAjoaC9kGEFRzu9mm_lXTtsbapnf-oS4/s640/HM_SQ50-7376.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Jenny, me, Hailey: Training friends and the women's 50k podium. Photo: Hilary Matheson</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My unicorn race. That one perfect day, when everything came together and I somehow felt no pain and only joy and flow. I finally ran my 6:15. I ran my 6:15 on a course that was a kilometre longer than when I was sure that 6:15 was my perfect time. Does that mean I can go even faster? Maybe! Who knows what we can do, when we set our minds to something. When we decide to tell ourselves that we can do it, that hills are our strength, that all we need to do is smile. Look at Hailey, who set a goal for herself of reaching the podium in this race, and did it on her 5th attempt. Look at Jenny, who believed that she could break the course record in the 50/50, and not only did, but </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">smashed</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> it and landed on the podium on BOTH DAYS. I'm turning 45 this year and I just won my first ultra marathon. There are countless stories like this that come out of these races, which is one of the reasons I love them. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We are all so much stronger than we think - and if we work hard and choose happiness and pay attention and surround ourselves with people who constantly lift us up, running gives us the gift of realizing that strength, over and over again. How amazing is that?</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">SQ50k 2019 - 6:15:41 - F1 - 14th Overall</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvyPVdiPGnFNolNcCJytpKRfqMPQ1znr26tLF-COa5C4Ac52-tcdU5f76-WPitKtSMRmiOj573cOs8rgj5rB5cg8SIsZ1vrbqGTDtOEsQ4d0lzn3jHt1-Xg3fFYrm4cPNTTC4mbWaaLHY/s1600/ECRtZBuU0AEyNb5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="510" data-original-width="680" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvyPVdiPGnFNolNcCJytpKRfqMPQ1znr26tLF-COa5C4Ac52-tcdU5f76-WPitKtSMRmiOj573cOs8rgj5rB5cg8SIsZ1vrbqGTDtOEsQ4d0lzn3jHt1-Xg3fFYrm4cPNTTC4mbWaaLHY/s640/ECRtZBuU0AEyNb5.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Family. Photo: Tory Scholz (who is also family).</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-82450923892438587262019-03-19T07:29:00.000-07:002019-03-19T07:39:47.951-07:00Chuckanut 50k 2019: Snow, Mud, and Mastering Weaknesses<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This was my third time running the Chuckanut 50k, and it never gets any easier (or any less fun). Chuckanut is a different breed of course, as ultras go - the first and last 10k are relatively flat running along the Interurban trail in Bellingham, which leaves all of the 1500+m of climbing in the middle 30k of the race. There is only one technical trail: the Chuckanut Ridge trail, which is a really fun, rooty and rocky ribbon of singletrack that, as the name suggests, traverses a ridge with great views of Mt Baker on a clear day. There is one abominable dirt road that climbs relentlessly for about 4k (the dreaded Cleator Rd), and one mile-long steep but mostly runnable climb trail called Chinscraper. Apart from that the trails are smooth, flowy up and down switchbacks and wide rolling double track. In other words, there is LOTS of variation, which keeps it really interesting and evens the playing field in different ways - there aren't that many runners who excel at all of those different types of terrain. </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6GeLqzpJ0KTwE3SZ5HDKS_ARzi7mjZx6steTB2yJjnfUhSUGW8tRe38ap6EImcxoDl5tyuOqUzftL3KFkPuFrgwAMiVkBjGU8tTtaqJ3FzxcQU1jZYzeWuxIrF1It1DdLrMTbMHmwpsU/s1600/Screen+shot+2019-03-18+at+4.30.31+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="304" data-original-width="868" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6GeLqzpJ0KTwE3SZ5HDKS_ARzi7mjZx6steTB2yJjnfUhSUGW8tRe38ap6EImcxoDl5tyuOqUzftL3KFkPuFrgwAMiVkBjGU8tTtaqJ3FzxcQU1jZYzeWuxIrF1It1DdLrMTbMHmwpsU/s640/Screen+shot+2019-03-18+at+4.30.31+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Elevation profile of the race, from my Strava file. Cleator Rd is the climb from ~17-21k, Chinscraper is at ~33-35k.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This year, I had three main goals for the race. The first was to run a PB (personal best time), which meant running faster than 5:23, a time I set in my first Chuckanut in 2016 - a year that brought rare perfect conditions. Being in mid-March, this race is often a mixed bag of awful weather and muddy trails. This year we were gifted with a beautiful, cool day, but had the "excitement" of the top 1/2 of Cleator Rd and some of the trails being covered with mushy snow and ice (as well as the usual sloppy mud). I knew that the snow and mud would slow me down and make that PB a challenge, but I also knew that I had a much more consistent training block heading into this year's race, as well as 3 more years of ultra running experience in my legs (and mind). My other two goals were specific to where I have previously struggled in this race: to do better on the "runnable" climbs, and on the last flattish 10k. My strengths are the technical ridge trail and the descents (both of which, unsurprisingly, I also find the most fun, and therefore the type of terrain I am naturally drawn to). Knowing this, I decided to take a different tactic with my training this year and focus on my weaknesses.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's funny that back in my cross-country running days, I always felt that running hills was one of my strong suits. In the last few years, I seem to have become more of a downhill runner, and in races have tended to lose focus and motivation on climbs that I know to be runnable. I think I am afraid of pushing into a red zone of exertion and going too far past the point of no return. So this winter in training, I made sure to incorporate lots of tough but runnable climbs, and to force myself to run up them every time, instead of letting myself take short walking breaks to catch my breath and get my heart rate down. It trained both my legs and my brain to recognize that I could do this and still recover at the top and continue on the run without collapsing into a heap. In Chuckanut, I took the climbs conservatively but steadily. Cleator Rd actually felt easy - until we hit the snow, which wasn't deep but was soft and slushy enough that it was hard to maintain forward momentum. Although everyone around me (including me) had the immediate instinct to try to power hike through the snow, I quickly determined that it was oddly easier to jog with little steps on my toes than to walk, so stuck with this strategy for the rest of the road, motivating myself with the knowledge that I had the fun ridge trail at the top as a reward. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2jj3WwMAIBtU7ft3LMVbT3nRJ92rtRpTOIKKrCOhgrflQeRMdHFR0dHr7CMtVBIu4YCojbh4Chxqdg-hshM9jk9lQlAfg3IOwYwUX34gkq-zjoj-HpK36UXJaHl1aDmk-Ae9QfT84Bm8/s1600/80720553-IMG_3104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="817" data-original-width="1226" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2jj3WwMAIBtU7ft3LMVbT3nRJ92rtRpTOIKKrCOhgrflQeRMdHFR0dHr7CMtVBIu4YCojbh4Chxqdg-hshM9jk9lQlAfg3IOwYwUX34gkq-zjoj-HpK36UXJaHl1aDmk-Ae9QfT84Bm8/s640/80720553-IMG_3104.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Chinscraper. Photo courtesy of Glenn Tachiyama.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: center;">The ridge was mercifully clear of snow, and I felt utter joy take over as I flew along this trail. It is my absolute favourite part of the course, and I soon found myself leading a small train of male French runners, who kept hilariously exclaiming "She is so good on the rocks! Just step wherever she is stepping!", etc. It was funny and flattering, except I kept thinking this would be exactly when I take a huge bail and everyone behind me ends up landing on top of me... but thankfully, I stayed on my feet and as far as I know so did the French train. The middle of the race, the trails between the ridge and Chinscraper, was a messy mix of sloshy snow and sticky mud, which I know definitely slowed me down quite a bit. However, I did manage to keep a fairly steady pace through this section, and hit the aid station at the bottom of Chinscraper in decent time. I </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: center;">even managed to run up </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; text-align: center;">almost</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: center;"> all of Chinscraper, which I was pretty proud of since that steep climb looms at ~33k into the race, and I was definitely starting to feel the fatigue creeping in. Once you crest that climb, it is almost all downhill for the next 5k until you reach the interurban trail again. The first kilometer or so of descent plunged us back into the slushy snow, and I ran it as hard as I could in what I am sure was a somewhat comical flailing of legs and arms, with my feet kicking out in awkward ways with every odd step on the slippery surface. It was a little stressful, and when we finally reached a course marshall who said, "That's it for the snow!", I almost hugged her. Back on gloriously hard packed dirt, I just let go on the rest of the descent and enjoyed running relatively effortlessly down switchback after switchback.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The last two times I ran Chuckanut, I absolutely died in the last flat 10k. It sounds like it should be relatively easy after running 30k with so much climbing and descending (and many people make the mistake of thinking this), but in my experience it has been quite the opposite: as soon as I popped out of the trail, my legs and motivation turned to lead and I slogged my way to the finish. As my friend Kim so eloquently put it, "the last 10k on the interurban is the devil and always will be". This year I was determined to do better on this section, and made it a goal to try to run the last 10k as close as possible to the time I ran in the first 10k. In training, I did a lot more running and workouts on roads than I normally do (which I actually loved!), and made it a point to finish every long run with at least a 4-5k stretch of flat road. This may have almost backfired early on, as I kept realizing during the first 10k of the race that I was happily running my tempo pace, and having to force myself to back off (!). Ultimately, though, it paid off in the end, as my last 10k was over 5 minutes faster than I have run it in past attempts, and only 2.5 minutes slower than my first 10 (ok, this is quite a bit slower, I realize. But it is not NEARLY as much slower as it has been in the past. So I am chalking this up as a huge win). I had one brief moment when that devil on my shoulder (or maybe it was the interurban itself) whispered, "Just walk a little bit", and actually started to slow down before telling myself (out loud) NO! DON'T DO IT! And uncharacteristically, I listened. Take that, interurban devil.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXunSuzMM2zLv_30eI1l94gwXxcvzSeiAHQQE0rq-A1lLMrPIlodFVLiyVxyUN7YiTE8-VoP0aagEJNUA3ED50Y0qLfqdRo_FhCFuzIJx7QkuZ4OcZOEajsLzFHYmGNC80Ls7k2bxxdQE/s1600/IMG_7753.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXunSuzMM2zLv_30eI1l94gwXxcvzSeiAHQQE0rq-A1lLMrPIlodFVLiyVxyUN7YiTE8-VoP0aagEJNUA3ED50Y0qLfqdRo_FhCFuzIJx7QkuZ4OcZOEajsLzFHYmGNC80Ls7k2bxxdQE/s640/IMG_7753.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Kim, Kat, me, Tara in the beer garden. Pic by Tory Scholz</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">One final note about Chuckanut: it is historically an incredibly competitive race, so I am never worried about, nor sure of, where I stand in the women's field. I passed a couple women on that last stretch, and was passed by one other, but still had no concept of what place I was running in. The second woman I passed with only half a kilometer to go, and it was nice motivation for me to keep ahead of her to the finish (sorry, lady - but thanks). I somehow found a little finishing kick and crossed the line in 5h22, achieving a whopping 1 minute PB...not as fast as I was hoping for, but a time I am very proud of given the conditions. As an absolute bonus, I found out later that I had finished in 19th place (my first time cracking the top 20 here) and as the first female Masters (40+) runner. In my previous two attempts, I have won the 40-49 age group, but both times there was one woman who finished ahead of me to clinch the Masters title. I was so happy to get it this year, and to add to my collection of the world's best prizes, the beautiful mugs made by Millbrook Clayworks. The Canadian women killed it out there this year, with Kat winning, Kim coming second, and Tara finishing 11th despite only deciding to do the race the night before. We all ended up in the beer garden afterward (it really seemed like it was only Canadians in there, haha), and enjoyed our complimentary post-race pint of local craft beer and basking in the warm spring sunshine.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDhOakGvJuSmknJxHFn4ocBLaqmhzB7Mg6ztt5U5GSxeSdAMRVpXMXCo6bo1WukKrsIUdfQUavzfI02yeZmXaPbphqauIvUGgbGjoZuE2RpV_LkDoD6CVqtrVt5pq6MQ5W_TB5GQ60bmA/s1600/20190319_071220.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDhOakGvJuSmknJxHFn4ocBLaqmhzB7Mg6ztt5U5GSxeSdAMRVpXMXCo6bo1WukKrsIUdfQUavzfI02yeZmXaPbphqauIvUGgbGjoZuE2RpV_LkDoD6CVqtrVt5pq6MQ5W_TB5GQ60bmA/s640/20190319_071220.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">The mugs seem to be getting bigger...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Will I do this race a fourth time? I still think I can run faster on the course, but for now I am happy leaving on a high note from this year's performance. Next year I will be there but as crew for Brendan, who had intended to run the race this year but unfortunately sustained a hamstring injury in training. It will be fun to experience the race from the other side instead of being in the thick of it. But 2021? It's almost certainly a date, Chuckanut. </span>taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-68450999637382575732018-09-24T21:39:00.000-07:002018-09-27T07:36:18.082-07:00WAM 110k 2018: DNF (Do Not Feel sorry for me)<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I've read a lot of "DNF" (Did Not Finish) blogs over the years. Lots of soul-searching, introspective, sometimes regretful, tales of understandingly heart-wrenching decisions to call it quits on a race. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is not one of those blogs. More of a comedy than a drama really, with some blood, sweat, snow, rain, and mud, but no tears. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Just to be clear - I did call it quits on the WAM 110k, at about 60k into the race. But not even a little piece of me thinks it was the wrong decision. This was one of those rare instances that my friend Tory calls "the Happy Drop". Let me explain.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHLyOb3mUaUpq4cZMMsdpKITZZlzORoOTDt8Wkvyyvg4W-RNWUwe21CJEeJAmYOhIAiXqsCfiGTOOX0kgUXuxUnZCZP-09Ev_r67gNh8E9CF40kXw2hMalPzZjxu6B4ZGW1ndtq39DuNo/s1600/78470444-_73A2710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHLyOb3mUaUpq4cZMMsdpKITZZlzORoOTDt8Wkvyyvg4W-RNWUwe21CJEeJAmYOhIAiXqsCfiGTOOX0kgUXuxUnZCZP-09Ev_r67gNh8E9CF40kXw2hMalPzZjxu6B4ZGW1ndtq39DuNo/s640/78470444-_73A2710.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Toasty warm inside my Goretex bubble. Photo courtesy of Brian McCurdy</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For the first half of this race, I ran well. I was taking it very easy, eating regularly, drinking plenty, and having fun despite fairly terrible conditions. It was raining, although mercifully not at the start - it started drizzling about 2-3 hours in and then got progressively heavier for the next few hours. Once we passed the snow line on Whistler at about 1800 metres, it was essentially sleeting. I was wearing perfect clothing for the weather, so none of this was a factor except for obscuring what I know to be incredible views on the course. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to the start...</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The first 20k of my race was in the dark, owing to the 4 am start time. We were running on easy gravel trails for the first 6k, which it turns out is a perfect warmup when your body is internally screaming "WTF ARE YOU DOING IT'S 4 IN THE MORNING GO BACK TO BED". Once we started on the Comfortably Numb trail, which is pretty technical at the best of times (i.e., daytime and dry) - full of roots, rock slabs, mountain bike features like skinny wood planks, twists and turns - I quickly realized that I am pretty bad at running trails in the dark. I don't see well at night anyway, and my headlamp wasn't the best (note to self: remedy this for next time), which I knew going in, so was also carrying a handheld light. I was quite uncoordinated and stumbly on this trail, but realized that it was making me run much slower than usual, which I reasoned was probably a good thing at the start of a 110k race. Everyone else seemed to be doing the same, and some of the conversations were pretty hilarious: "Oh, that creek sounded like it looked amazing!", etc. I ran into Tiff and Tyler around 2 hours in and was having fun chatting with them and marvelling at how bright both their headlamps were...when BAM! DAMN, WAM! I tripped on a root and sent myself flying in a classic superman wipeout. I somehow managed to have the presence of mind to tuck and roll, so although I rolled myself right off the trail into a bramble of sharp branches and logs, I escaped with just a few scrapes and bumps. Mostly I was mad that I ripped my awesome pants. Both T&T helped me up, and then there were like 5 runners all stopped to see if I was ok (I guess it was a pretty spectacular fall), and I urged them all to keep going, I was fine! It wasn't until they all moved on that I realized that my headlamp had somehow stopped working in the tumble (that's worse than ripped pants, FYI). Thankfully I had my little flashlight, so just kept awkwardly running and trying to catch the people ahead of me to make use of their functioning bright lights. We got to a lovely rolling gravel road section that was a little less dark than the forest, and finally I could relax a bit, knowing that we were nearing the aid station at the base of Whistler mountain. Light (note I am not saying "the sun") was just starting to creep into the sky as I arrived at the AS, at around 20k and just over 2.5 hours into the race.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I had no official crew at that early AS (6:30 in the morning just seemed like too big an ask), but Kate and Tennessee immediately came up to me and helped me with everything, including filling my bottles with water and finding my spare socks in my drop bag. Amazing. I originally had no intention of changing socks this early, but my feet were already completely drenched so I thought it was worth the extra 2 minutes to be more comfortable, knowing that there was another 35k of hard mountain running before reaching my next drop bag.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I started up the road toward Singing Pass, jubilant that it was daylight and catching up to Joanna, who I had never met but recognized because she was wearing shorts, haha. We hiked together for a bit, by which I really mean she hiked fast, got ahead of me, then I jogged and caught up. Repeat x about 6, until I finally clued in that I just felt better jogging, and scooted past to continue my slow but steady progression up the mountain. I thought about Brendan, who was running the 25k and was starting his race right around when I was reaching the alpine (he won, which I found out later in the day). When we popped out of the forest into the alpine meadows, it was raining pretty hard, but it was still gorgeous, bright yellow grasses making a sharp contrast with the grey fog. I started up the steeper parts of Musical Bumps trail, and felt my left calf twinging. This is the calf that was cramping towards the end of the Squamish 50k race 5 weeks ago, and I have been babying it ever since. I was wearing compression sleeves to try to keep it happy, but this early warning sign was a little unsettling (foreshadowing: check.). Musical Bumps is a beautiful, rolling trail with a couple steep climbs (the "bumps" - Oboe and Flute summits, the creeks from which we had crossed on the Singing Pass trail). It was full-on winter up there, complete with slippery snow and slush, and strong winds. I pulled my jacket hood tight around my face, and hunkered down for a slog. At this point we started seeing the 55k runners coming in the opposite direction, which was fun and a nice boost to have more company in this crazy snow-covered moonscape that we were running through.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRvkQWkX84Fo4OD9mvAx0dOPBzizrZsNe6aWMIVEBhIBIjIv09Xmu8US3phAQh4rf3EecvJfHLnofMDsQA1wUOlv5gX5VMfUlPpiQVWPGGCTPoeKYAbQkfAaJ4J20PC5INDnfKmLOEyv4/s1600/20180906_103936.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRvkQWkX84Fo4OD9mvAx0dOPBzizrZsNe6aWMIVEBhIBIjIv09Xmu8US3phAQh4rf3EecvJfHLnofMDsQA1wUOlv5gX5VMfUlPpiQVWPGGCTPoeKYAbQkfAaJ4J20PC5INDnfKmLOEyv4/s640/20180906_103936.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Musical Bumps trail on a sunny day a couple weeks ago. Now picture this with no view and the ground covered in snow.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was only about 10k along this stretch until we reached the aid station, but it took a REALLY long time. Just such slow going. Both Sasha and Brian were somehow perched up on rocks out in the middle of nowhere, taking photos of the runners. Total troopers. The day before the race, the organizers had been forced to move the aid station out of its planned location near the peak, down the mountain "a bit" so it was out of the snow, and we were told there was a 1.5k out-and-back that we would need to do to access this aid station. Quite unfortunately, this meant running down part of Pika's traverse - which is a road that connects the peak of Whistler to Roundhouse lodge - </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">and obviously back up again. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">How to describe this road? Let's see: Steep. Covered in slush, mud, snow. Exposed. Winds howling. It was... Well. It was lucky there was a warm aid station at the bottom. Jenny and Becky passed me coming back up as I was running down - big smiles, high fives, Jenny saying "...it's...it's a long ways down. But the climb back up will keep you warm!". Haha. And what an aid station it was! Cheerful volunteers standing out there in these horrible conditions, serving up soup, pancakes, bacon, Coke, you name it. It was a little oasis in the storm, and very, very hard to leave. Tiff came in to the aid station as I was about to head out, and we were a little confused as to how I was in front of her (she must have still been in the Village aid station while I left to head up the mountain. It was all very confusing in the dark). I trudged my way back up the road, and took advantage of some kind of magical heated outhouse that was positioned on stilts near the top of the climb. Seriously, one of the highlights of my day.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4SoP40OpOswnOpzf5gFAni3jqEVKao1eoC7Q6dwnmPOcqMRyov9zU2RCbcIwGVLn1i-9KSBMqLajzwuKnDMxE2WUczo_itkYcj0eBt8JrHDGHXUCrmwV3O5NRlLUXRfxgpplIhGhFu1s/s1600/42368346_10155637696146825_2791235413866446848_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4SoP40OpOswnOpzf5gFAni3jqEVKao1eoC7Q6dwnmPOcqMRyov9zU2RCbcIwGVLn1i-9KSBMqLajzwuKnDMxE2WUczo_itkYcj0eBt8JrHDGHXUCrmwV3O5NRlLUXRfxgpplIhGhFu1s/s640/42368346_10155637696146825_2791235413866446848_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Pika's Traverse, down to the aid station and back up. Photo courtesy of Ann Save, one of the volunteers.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Once reaching Top of the World, the downhill mountain bike trail on which we would start our long journey back down the mountain, the conditions were rapidly deteriorating. The rocks were covered in a thin sheen of almost-ice, which meant that a fun, flowy trail that I would normally fly down had me tiptoeing like a grandma (no offence to any grandmas out there), bracing myself with almost every step. A woman up ahead looked back at me and shouted through the wind, "Are you in the 110k? Is this right?!" and I yelled back affirmation, shortly thereafter catching up with her and realizing it was Tiff, yet again! What was happening?! We determined that she had passed by while I was enjoying the heated toilet seat earlier, and then stayed together for a while, navigating the slippery trail. Once we were back below the freezing level on Khyber Pass, the trail got more runnable, and I got my downhill groove back, feeling great and taking off again...until I reached the mudslide. It's really the only way to describe it. The combination of the 55k racers coming up the trail earlier in the morning and the heavy rain over the last couple days had turned what I know to be a technical, but mostly runnable trail into a treacherous slip-and-slide of thick, chocolate-coloured muck where there was almost nowhere to step without losing your foot under you. I took one more bail into the mud, slipping sideways on a corner and landing on my hip (it seemed like a soft landing at the time, but I am actually now sporting a massive purple bruise from that fall). What a gong show! It was insane, and I soon ended up leading a train of a few runners, including Tyler, Ben, and of course Tiff, as we tried to survive this crazy descent. It was really fun running together for that stretch, and we were howling with laughter for most of it (it was funny in a "I can't believe we pay to do this stuff" kind of way, guess you had to be there). </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhisTx-9xrEKCAAqk7XqTu28275rTGiydc_mNWTavXhkXmDx-6YDuR4VjS_NYO0ImNrlVylfo3yMFnPoiujwGopZHTDcNdzkdO_-RUPmKG2odhPY2yO1kjA2eCi8nA-ekyY-8gTqNF6lxU/s1600/78470443-_73A2719.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhisTx-9xrEKCAAqk7XqTu28275rTGiydc_mNWTavXhkXmDx-6YDuR4VjS_NYO0ImNrlVylfo3yMFnPoiujwGopZHTDcNdzkdO_-RUPmKG2odhPY2yO1kjA2eCi8nA-ekyY-8gTqNF6lxU/s640/78470443-_73A2719.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Starting the long descent. Photo courtesy of Brian McCurdy</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After what seemed like forever, we finally reached a slightly more gentle gradient that had relatively firm ground instead of the mud, and I opened up the stride again and went on my merry way toward the aid station at the turnaround. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Let me say that when I did this descent on a chill training run a couple weeks prior to the race, it took 2 hours total. I'm not actually even sure how long it took on Saturday, because my GPS had gone wonky somewhere near the peak, but I think it was at least 30 minutes longer than that.</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Marieve, the eventual women's winner who led the race all day, passed me coming back up looking strong and focused. A few minutes later, Becky came by too, saying "hurry and catch up!" Near the bottom, the trail crosses the Cheakamus River on a very high suspension bridge, and then continues up a really steep but short hill on the other side. My calf was very angry when I started up that hill, so I tried to flat-foot the climb instead of running on my toes as usual. I finally rolled into the aid station with around 8h40 elapsed, within my estimated timeframe of 8-9 hours but definitely on the slower end of it. I had unfortunately <i>just</i> missed Brendan, who had rushed across town after his race to try to see me come through, but then had to leave to go back to the finish line for the awards. I blame the time sucking magical heated outhouse.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Kelly, my friend and crew, was there and immediately sat me down in a chair by a fire under a tent (Amazing). She filled up my bottles and got me food (miso soup, quesadillas, and bananas. Amazing). She laid out my clothes from my drop bag, so that I could change - I swapped out my whole top layer, including my shirt and jacket, put on new shoes and socks, new gloves, and ditched my soaked hat for a dry buff. Amazing. It felt SO GOOD to be dry and to be eating solid food (for some reason, all I had felt like eating all day leading up to this, out of all the options I had packed in my running vest, was gels - usually I dread eating them, but they were working really well for me for whatever reason. Who knew that orange-banana gel could taste so delicious at 5:00 in the morning?). Anyway. I spent a while there, stuffing my face and finally deciding I should probably get moving. I shuffled out of the warm little shelter and back out onto the trail, and miracle of miracles the rain had stopped! It even looked like the sun was trying to make an appearance. There were lots of people cheering my name as I ran out of the AS, which made me feel like a million bucks. Somewhere around 12:45 in the afternoon, I started back up the mountain.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">By now (if you've even made it this far; is this the world's longest DNF blog?, and if you missed the obvious foreshadowing), you may be wondering why I dropped out of this race. I was having fun, for the most part! I felt great, for the most part! The problem was, the only part that didn't feel great - my calf - completely seized as soon as I reached the really steep gradient going back up. I couldn't take a step on it going uphill without searing pain. It was ok (not great, but ok) on any other kind of terrain - flat, downhill, even rolling - but the steep uphill had become almost impossible. This was, needless to say, a bit of an issue when facing a 1700m climb back up to the peak. I literally stood still on the trail for what felt like 5 minutes, weighing my options. Did I try to continue, knowing I was risking serious damage to my calf? I thought about taking an Advil to see if that would help, but decided against it, not wanting to mask the pain. I took another tentative few steps upward, experimenting with doing all the work with my right leg and kind of dragging my left leg without putting pressure on it. This, unsurprisingly, was fairly unsuccessful, not to mention ridiculous. I made the call, stopped my watch (that makes it official, you see) and started back toward the aid station, completely sure in my decision. I ran into Tara, who had come out to cheer and go for a run, and of course she immediately turned around and walked back with me, even though she had just started her run. My calf was getting progressively worse and she kept lending me her poles so that I could try to hobble up the few hills that I still had to climb. Also, at the aid station she had given me the socks literally off her feet so that I could have an extra pair to carry with me. I mean, seriously. </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrfJjqvuDUgVojDWhf0TbIxrkzJFuqYkosIAnTyUfugGUTeN7URnKxZtEdi-NqaHMxLqyhCBEYAJI8R1smCu1Tm8wOqclXcUKVokucs_fI3xZFIlzqFlH5ycQbWQm4PD7ehsx-qMMK9Kc/s1600/Screen+shot+2018-09-24+at+6.36.05+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="79" data-original-width="451" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrfJjqvuDUgVojDWhf0TbIxrkzJFuqYkosIAnTyUfugGUTeN7URnKxZtEdi-NqaHMxLqyhCBEYAJI8R1smCu1Tm8wOqclXcUKVokucs_fI3xZFIlzqFlH5ycQbWQm4PD7ehsx-qMMK9Kc/s640/Screen+shot+2018-09-24+at+6.36.05+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Elevation profile of the race. You see the issue here, once I determined I couldn't go up steep climbs.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And so my day ended, at about 62k and 9.5 hours into the race. I limped back to that aid station, of course crossing paths with Tiff again: "NOOOOO!!!" "Don't worry I'm fine, just go and crush it!". She eventually finished in a very well deserved 2nd place with a super strong, tough-as-nails performance. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">What a crazy day! A couple days later now, and I am just starting to be able to walk somewhat normally on that calf again. I have, as mentioned, some battle wounds, but other than that feel surprisingly good (one benefit to running extremely slowly I suppose). Am I upset about not finishing? Not a chance, for a few reasons. I know based on how my calf still feels, that continuing to try to push through it would have resulted in either (a) having to drop out later on, having incurred much more damage to both my calf and likely other parts of me due to bizarre compensating strategies to manage the pain, or (b) finishing, but incurring EVEN MORE damage. Not worth it. WAM was not a goal race for me; Squamish 50k was, and I trained specifically for that race. This 110k was a "fun bonus adventure day" at the end of my season, and I wasn't out there to prove anything to myself or anyone else. I got my fun adventure day in spades: as you can probably tell from this post, it was far from a solo endeavour; rather, it was an amazing celebration of the local trail running community. Gary and his team nearly broke themselves making sure this race went ahead, despite obstacle after obstacle including permitting, grizzly bear-induced trail closures a week before the race derailing the original course plan (and then the alternate course plan), and last minute extra <i>extra</i> course changes due to the weather. The volunteers withstood awful conditions to help runners get from A to B (to A) successfully and safely. Sharing trail time with running buds is always something special, even more so when the situation we find ourselves in is somewhat ridiculous. And having friends like Kelly and Tara there to support me along the way meant so much. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">How could I possibly be upset? Running is a journey, not a destination. This race was just another trip along that trail that I love travelling, so much. A Happy Drop, indeed.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And ps., WAM? I'll be back next year ;)</span>taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-69665446049829024672018-08-20T19:48:00.000-07:002018-08-20T20:00:41.193-07:00Squamish 50k 2018: A Finish Line 5 Years in the Making<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI71PwezbWdGEYTcLaPntHgqieAOf0dPsBLI554eAUvhT7bHFWzGQpFJMpDdIXsDmShdj-YGUYjqm8Set_I0T4yJcIPno2ayKoKqY6r49hVMEQET6UdRxQX-wyx1tO4F1FD69oPy4krKA/s1600/_I0A0800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI71PwezbWdGEYTcLaPntHgqieAOf0dPsBLI554eAUvhT7bHFWzGQpFJMpDdIXsDmShdj-YGUYjqm8Set_I0T4yJcIPno2ayKoKqY6r49hVMEQET6UdRxQX-wyx1tO4F1FD69oPy4krKA/s640/_I0A0800.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Squamish 50 2018. Photo: Hilary Matheson</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Squamish 50 is my favourite running event of the year, and holds a special place in my heart. Two days after I moved to Squamish in August 2013, I went on my first run on the trails and ended up in the middle of the 50 mile race by mistake. Intrigued, I looked up the event and decided to have a go at the 50k race in 2014. I ran that race as my first ultra, despite my life being upended by a breast cancer diagnosis and the subsequent surgery 3 months before the race. I came away with a time of 7h12, a huge, instant love for the sport and the trail running community, and the drive to improve on that time.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha1LB6aFcU2Osgt8KrOc9wbAvyVKV0uZZwMT6R2kBqc3Skd9oMdsU-dMm8Y26iKuFzqdTNG0x2hfzQGpLLf36GYoavWW_Qy_wxoZJTZqBhpSg5j7p8l947h5Msoad4X6Wti5_QxIyVmTk/s1600/10431117_807760792620053_8721093272370973631_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha1LB6aFcU2Osgt8KrOc9wbAvyVKV0uZZwMT6R2kBqc3Skd9oMdsU-dMm8Y26iKuFzqdTNG0x2hfzQGpLLf36GYoavWW_Qy_wxoZJTZqBhpSg5j7p8l947h5Msoad4X6Wti5_QxIyVmTk/s640/10431117_807760792620053_8721093272370973631_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">The 2014 race. Photo: Brian McCurdy</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I trained hard through the next winter and spring, after undergoing and recovering from the final step in my treatment, a bilateral mastectomy. I was feeling great for the 2015 race, until I broke my wrist and did some soft tissue damage to my knee in a bike crash in late July. I barely ran for the 5 weeks leading up to the 50k, and was unsure whether I should run it with a broken wrist. I decided to do it, ran with my wrist in a splint (thankfully my cast was off by race day!), and clocked a finish time of 6h55, an 18 minute improvement on the year prior. But still, I knew I could do better on that course.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOv85X5bepHkeF4s-_aaGNKFrOqNKa_wIw9HGE8wk2n08s1n99el4SXj9FAXnnVftaUvr56vM3d28jebqB54fSHaGGP3pggTR8F80IpdlTWkW6jTEgjb74ZzJCBp_6qs9lfTeNp5lQX3g/s1600/11988630_10153548283103618_3515222887624996983_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOv85X5bepHkeF4s-_aaGNKFrOqNKa_wIw9HGE8wk2n08s1n99el4SXj9FAXnnVftaUvr56vM3d28jebqB54fSHaGGP3pggTR8F80IpdlTWkW6jTEgjb74ZzJCBp_6qs9lfTeNp5lQX3g/s640/11988630_10153548283103618_3515222887624996983_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">The 2015 race. Photo: Brian McCurdy</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the meantime, I was running lots of other races, gaining experience and building up stamina for the longer time on feet than I had ever run before moving to BC. All races are special experiences, and wonderful achievements, but there is something about the Squamish 50 that keeps me coming back for more. In 2016, I signed up once again, but our family was struck with tragedy when in May my dad was diagnosed, seemingly out of the blue, with terminal cancer. I spent most of the summer with my family, by my dad's bedside in the hospital. He died the day before the race. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In 2017, training was going extremely well until I tore a hamstring in July, effectively ending my racing season. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And that brings us to this year. This year, I trained painstakingly patiently. I slowly and steadily build my mileage back up once recovered from the hamstring injury, and had the most consistent 8 months of training that I have ever had, logging over 2000 km and 75,000 m of elevation gain between January and race day. I managed to finally make it to the start line of the 50k fit, healthy, and ready to give it my all on that course. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFgRWASRRMbkggEamGw8npwc7lrNH5MT8jit3n640QS6iSkDoDFYWzVUH2R4PWJ6L9jm-6rmYa7Xpt66NtPK-SpqDAIIl3ILYaEwX0PKs7sini5ktQ6IqQTuLX10Nfb4H-Rqtt87BQZOQ/s1600/IMG_1869.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFgRWASRRMbkggEamGw8npwc7lrNH5MT8jit3n640QS6iSkDoDFYWzVUH2R4PWJ6L9jm-6rmYa7Xpt66NtPK-SpqDAIIl3ILYaEwX0PKs7sini5ktQ6IqQTuLX10Nfb4H-Rqtt87BQZOQ/s640/IMG_1869.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">Me and Kelly at the start of the 2018 race. Feeling "bright-eyed and bushy-tailed"</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Race day dawned with the haze of wildfire smoke pervading the air, the sun a fiery orange orb in an apocalyptic sky. I wasn't thinking too much about the air quality; we had been running in less than ideal conditions for a couple weeks and it didn't seem to be affecting me. However, about 90 minutes into the race I started to feel queasy and lightheaded. This is very unusual for me, and the feeling of nausea stayed with me for the entire rest of the race. I can only assume this was caused by the smoky air; my energy gels were not exactly tasting delicious, but I was getting them down every 45 minutes without feeling any worse afterward. I ran steady and strong through to the Quest aid station at 23k, about 8 minutes faster than I had previously run that stretch, and knew that I was somewhere near the top 10 women. My time goal was 6h30, and I was right on pace to achieve it.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyN0r_sk-JnNtGtkNYpF3Y1NN-aXg7eazMvgQzKzF6wAPSsuL2Fi-RGn3-ZK-hJF33vBSCZ1hPnSF3DBS-PS5LkZMwvPCX3gankqfmqxRGzzAfSK5rVRudT_hI4J3pgpXx6Q_pwwDYAiM/s1600/_I0A0434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyN0r_sk-JnNtGtkNYpF3Y1NN-aXg7eazMvgQzKzF6wAPSsuL2Fi-RGn3-ZK-hJF33vBSCZ1hPnSF3DBS-PS5LkZMwvPCX3gankqfmqxRGzzAfSK5rVRudT_hI4J3pgpXx6Q_pwwDYAiM/s640/_I0A0434.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Running into Quest aid station. Photo: Hilary Matheson</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Somewhere around 30k into the race, I started feeling sicker and sicker, and was really struggling. I was moving forward, but it felt slow, so slow. I kept mentally checking in with my body, and there was nothing really wrong with my legs - some fatigue setting in, twinges here and there, but no real muscle tightness or unusual soreness. I did a lot of positive self-talk: "You CAN do this"..."You ARE doing this..."... "You LOVE doing this...", and managed to stay fairly upbeat despite the feeling that I was slowing down so precipitously. I was also keeping myself motivated by imagining how well Brendan must have done in the 23k race, which he would have finished by this point. In the next 10k or so, I leapfrogged with a couple other women, and wasn't sure where I stood in the field. At one point during this stretch (which is a part of the course I normally do really well on, from STP through Somewhere over There), I found myself thinking that maybe I should stop pushing myself and just be happy with running a personal best time (anything under 6h55). I even had one brief moment when I thought, Maybe I'll just drop out at 40k and call it a good long run. Haha. But luckily I know myself better than that, and knew that I would not be satisfied with giving less than my all, never mind dropping out of the race(!). Thankfully, my downhills were going extremely well - I felt fantastic and freakishly coordinated (for me) on the descents, like I was dancing over the roots and rocks. Although conditions were exceptionally dry, I didn't feel like any downhill all day was particularly sketchy. It felt amazing, and the thought of each coming descent trail was one of the things that kept me going. I pushed on, determined to get to the Farside aid station where I knew I would see friends to cheer me on.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwyA7I_uA3et6fRRLNWdDiylAC3700bVNvZW5qbArMftC9kw0udQ4wuNzzgvN6Y4D_EylF9yT8t0HOolSyILViGhCWulB-4oCLQf4qdsEL0-JUTEr_gxlIfMIBWK1ErKLS2JkHjAKS4Cc/s1600/Farside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwyA7I_uA3et6fRRLNWdDiylAC3700bVNvZW5qbArMftC9kw0udQ4wuNzzgvN6Y4D_EylF9yT8t0HOolSyILViGhCWulB-4oCLQf4qdsEL0-JUTEr_gxlIfMIBWK1ErKLS2JkHjAKS4Cc/s640/Farside.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Coming into the Farside aid station, trying to smile but pretty much just grimacing. Photo: Hilary Matheson</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Let me just say that my friends at that aid station pretty much saved my race. I slogged up toward them in a brain fog, with Hilary asking me what I needed - all I could reply with was a pathetic "I don't know what I need!". She changed tactics, got more specific, and asked me if I wanted Coke - I said yes - Rosie had it in my hands in less than 10 seconds. Meanwhile Eduardo grabbed my empty flask that I was holding, asked what I wanted - water - and was stuffing the flask back into my vest before I knew what was happening. The volunteers doused the back of my neck with a sponge of ice water, which felt amazing. And then as a unit, they all (almost literally) pushed me out of the aid station back onto the trails. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">At this point, there is only 10k left in the race, but that last 10k is the definition of a doozy. The trails are punchy and twisty, up, down, up, down, and you feel like you're going mad because they seem never-ending (am I selling this race well, or what?). However, I actually finally started to feel good again on this section. Still nauseated, and one of my calves was now cramping so that I couldn't run uphill on my toes for fear of completely seizing - but still, relatively good. (It's <i>all</i> relative, in an ultra). Buoyed by the boost at the aid station, and laughing at how it had all gone down, I found my natural pace again and just hammered as hard as I could, ultimately running that 10k over 5 minutes faster than I had done previously in the race. I passed two women in this section, and was confident that they were not going to catch me again.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Approaching the finish line, I got really emotional. So many emotions: Joy. Pride. Relief. Something bigger, that I couldn't identify at the time. I crossed the line in 6h36, not quite making that ambitious 6h30 goal but coming pretty darn close to it. It was a 19 minute PB, and I fought hard to get it. As I finished, I could heard Gary announcing my name and then saying "...and Tara will be happy to hear that Brendan smashed the course record in the 23k!", and I just threw my hands up in the air and whooped something unintelligible. Brendan came over to me at the same time as Gary, and he made me go in for the Gary hug first, haha - priorities! And then we were congratulating each other, and he was offering me some of his race winner champagne, to which I am quite sure my face turned greener than it already was. And then my friends Kelly and Hailey were there hugging me too, and I found out that we had placed 6th, 7th, and 8th females in an absolutely stacked women's field. What an incredibly special and proud moment, in so many ways. It was quite overwhelming.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKQpV7RD3EycNBZZlmdniKeUvWCnNht8FZk3LjG8gGwcYDeJOxPh_vFXRvsX3qrBiHVX2DauSy-a3PHFZIXa3IvywTmbFGDswFDfoSRnGC9WsuVGaxAEsOst0dsuXyvT7dU7efQ2vDNc4/s1600/_I0A0786.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKQpV7RD3EycNBZZlmdniKeUvWCnNht8FZk3LjG8gGwcYDeJOxPh_vFXRvsX3qrBiHVX2DauSy-a3PHFZIXa3IvywTmbFGDswFDfoSRnGC9WsuVGaxAEsOst0dsuXyvT7dU7efQ2vDNc4/s640/_I0A0786.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Step 1: Gary hug. Photo: Hilary Matheson</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGAghVuSrBWC0cG6FBJ-GXjf1o3QosizdFfg25TFUb6bfchSInEHWcBGqWfKzu1yAq-Ez_pFgsSC-6lIf6moYRMdFmHSxW_vO749tCE0wLygsMuyD-F0jtWPvL-4sI-L5Tx-vV-Qrg_C4/s1600/Brendan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGAghVuSrBWC0cG6FBJ-GXjf1o3QosizdFfg25TFUb6bfchSInEHWcBGqWfKzu1yAq-Ez_pFgsSC-6lIf6moYRMdFmHSxW_vO749tCE0wLygsMuyD-F0jtWPvL-4sI-L5Tx-vV-Qrg_C4/s640/Brendan.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Step 2: Bagginses hug. <span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Photo: Hilary Matheson</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">What a day. What a race! It was the culmination of thousands of miles of training, hard work, perseverance, and battling through setback after setback. But the thing is, when I think back over those 5 years in between that first accidental encounter with the Squamish 50 and the 2018 race, the "work" and "battle" fades away and all I can remember is miles and miles of fun and joy on these incredible trails running with my girlfriends, with Brendan, and by myself immersed in the forest and the mountains. I don't think about the fear and sadness of breast cancer, or the pain and frustration of a broken wrist; I think about the growth I experienced by overcoming those obstacles to still run the 50k. The race on Sunday, August 19th, fell on the 2-year anniversary of my dad's passing. I know he would be proud of me, and as my mom said yesterday, "that can give you wings". So, that bigger emotion that I was feeling at the finish line? All of those things, rolled into one big, beautiful package. Brendan and I like to remind ourselves before races when we're feeling the nerves that it is "just running", which is, of course, true. But it is also so much more than that. It is happiness and suffering, exhilaration and pain, independence and support, weakness and strength. And all of that is what keeps me doing it, </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">mile after mile and </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">year after year.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7SL39S27uiha1EuAjPhqLn6Va4t9fJG1prQuIOB1eS3FazOQkTZV-DVw78LteGTyqCMMUobgX1Hstrc1CnlBJC36xi9f4BhLcAg7o2R35Dw5zH8W89sHWfh4Zf15go6kz1MlEniJICYQ/s1600/_I0A0794+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7SL39S27uiha1EuAjPhqLn6Va4t9fJG1prQuIOB1eS3FazOQkTZV-DVw78LteGTyqCMMUobgX1Hstrc1CnlBJC36xi9f4BhLcAg7o2R35Dw5zH8W89sHWfh4Zf15go6kz1MlEniJICYQ/s640/_I0A0794+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Me & Hailey: Years of miles and smiles. Photo by Hilary, with whom I've also spent years and miles of smiles :)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-72777164625726401822018-06-09T10:20:00.001-07:002021-12-07T08:05:14.920-08:00Follow the Yaks: Trekking the Langtang Valley in Nepal<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Brendan and I have returned home from a month of travels, the highlight of which was an eight day hike in Nepal's Langtang Valley. Only 120 km from Kathmandu, Langtang is a lesser-known trekking area, as compared with popular routes like Everest Base Camp or the Annapurna Circuit. Despite its proximity to the capital city, the drive to the trailhead takes 6-7 hours, owing to the road being essentially a one lane, muddy, deeply rutted jeep track that winds up and down mountainsides. The valley is remote, but is still a "tea-house" trek, meaning that the trail goes through tiny villages where mountain lodges can house and feed you for the night, so there is no need to carry camping gear. We planned a fairly aggressive hiking itinerary, hoping to cover a lot of ground in the somewhat limited time that we had available, while still making sure to enjoy the journey and leave adequate time to acclimatize to the altitude. After some back-and-forth, we convinced our wonderful guide Bishnu that we could hike in 8 days what most groups do in 15. Here's a little story about our day-to-day experience.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoZltXvKc8SUKRvfFEDLy8-Z_2cxMz8Q2Hn7J9ypjAhKUyYTLZn3DJ97TgsbCCFvlBX-hfSo4kpLgKRjz1sM_-jidKf1qDwfh6JGG-Y6TR3JNre2LuljUb6TnMM_Yi6pdGKccDa2X1EkM/s1600/20180527_080347.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="1600" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoZltXvKc8SUKRvfFEDLy8-Z_2cxMz8Q2Hn7J9ypjAhKUyYTLZn3DJ97TgsbCCFvlBX-hfSo4kpLgKRjz1sM_-jidKf1qDwfh6JGG-Y6TR3JNre2LuljUb6TnMM_Yi6pdGKccDa2X1EkM/s640/20180527_080347.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Day 1: Shyaphru Besi to Godathabela (1460m
– 2972m); 20k</span></h4>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 36pt;">After two fascinating but hectic weeks of work in Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan, at least half of which
was spent in cars and planes – it was a welcome relief to know that all we needed
to do for the next eight days was walk. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 36pt;"> </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 36pt;">The
trailhead is in the village of Shyaphru Besi, at 1460 m elevation. The
combination of having fresh legs and starting at relatively low altitude made
the first day feel like a regular hike at home, although it was extremely hot and
humid and we poured sweat as we made our way ever upward through dense tropical
forest.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYJm29t6VnSfaEVO1I-f4ww2fTjNw4ZpYgNQMYmExPSnYKuYhdfZ9NK2WQbOIVj5x7HyZGIrPQ3NL8o5tqc3qH8VXhSHeUofbbn9Pt4iZzDa5pZCJ-IA87YZ9rHwzsZ9Y1oYkLQWJTYmE/s1600/20180525_084422.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYJm29t6VnSfaEVO1I-f4ww2fTjNw4ZpYgNQMYmExPSnYKuYhdfZ9NK2WQbOIVj5x7HyZGIrPQ3NL8o5tqc3qH8VXhSHeUofbbn9Pt4iZzDa5pZCJ-IA87YZ9rHwzsZ9Y1oYkLQWJTYmE/s640/20180525_084422.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of many suspension bridges we would cross on the hike.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 36pt;">Bishnu set a slow but steady pace, and we dutifully fell into step behind
him and enjoyed turning our brains off and just immersing ourselves in the
beautiful landscape. We encountered a few monkeys and several mountain goats,
and passed by countless waterfalls and tall rock walls stained black with honey
from nesting bees high above our heads. The forest was lush and bursting with
tiny orange, pink, and yellow flowers, as well as copious amounts of stinging
nettle and marijuana growing wild at the edges of the trail. As we followed the
river upstream, the only sounds were our sparse conversation and the
ever-present birdsong. We saw very few other hikers; most of the people we met
on the trail were local villagers, many with trains of donkeys carrying
supplies along the trail. The villages that we passed through were tiny:
clusters of a few houses and, in some cases, small mountain lodges.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiToU1iM21RTzCOGocqUVLA8RjX5qNvIxAlx0Qr-RNrCIeRKE-dhqxfE49aPgUpe40MvSxoD51R_ZPIuaXSyIkunC5a2sQ2D0A-bgiG1hRKPL8iO3ZyLdijNHj91BJ8BNQC73p7y8t-Efc/s1600/20180525_091630.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiToU1iM21RTzCOGocqUVLA8RjX5qNvIxAlx0Qr-RNrCIeRKE-dhqxfE49aPgUpe40MvSxoD51R_ZPIuaXSyIkunC5a2sQ2D0A-bgiG1hRKPL8iO3ZyLdijNHj91BJ8BNQC73p7y8t-Efc/s640/20180525_091630.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our lunch spot: the village of Bamboo.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 36pt;">The Langtang
Valley was hit hard by the 2015 earthquake, and the aftermath of the disaster
was readily apparent. It was sobering to pass by memorials and many homes that had been
reduced to rubble by landslides, but encouraging seeing the constant
reconstruction. We were happy to have chosen this particular hike, where the money
we spent in the local communities could contribute to the ongoing efforts to rebuild.
Our day finished at the “Hotel Tibetan” in Ghodatabela, and the people there
seemed shocked that we had hiked all that way in one day (this would become a common theme throughout the week). </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 48px;">Lodges differed along the trek, but all offered between 6-12 small, simple, tidy rooms with two single beds and sometimes a table to pile bags on. Each lodge had a separate eating area with benches, and often a wood stove where you could warm up in the cool evenings. Rooms cost $500 rupees, just over $5 CAD, and we usually spent about $15-20 between us on each lunch and dinner. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 36pt;">At just under 3000 m, Hotel Tibetan was a perfect place to
stay the night and acclimatize a little to the increasing altitude. We "enjoyed" a cold bucket "shower", then retired to our room for a fitful sleep.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI9pV-oCxUEHJ5RuIJm3JtiU19zGf_0qO_e_6AWL7dcvEdeI_tSmx5LCsiduS-CYT4ShUL0d3xhodufE9ecFmjb0Bfkw4e985opCMaTZOOSqSL8-W6Vkvldq90udWpMHOruCgHSRFzpM/s1600/20180525_175838.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI9pV-oCxUEHJ5RuIJm3JtiU19zGf_0qO_e_6AWL7dcvEdeI_tSmx5LCsiduS-CYT4ShUL0d3xhodufE9ecFmjb0Bfkw4e985opCMaTZOOSqSL8-W6Vkvldq90udWpMHOruCgHSRFzpM/s640/20180525_175838.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hotel Tibetan, 2972 m.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Day 2: Ghodatabela to Kyanjin Gumba (2972m
– 3870m); 13k</span></h4>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We were up at 6:30 to
start hiking to our highest altitude in this side of the valley. The second day
was my favourite day of the trek: with every 100 m we gained, the landscape
seemed to change so quickly. We were out of the dense forest
now, higher up above the river and into the open, sweeping views of the
sub-alpine. The surrounding mountains changed from being tiny peaks that we
glimpsed in the distance to imposing white-capped peaks that dominated the scenery.
We started passing by </span><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; background: white; color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">mani walls in the middle of the trail, which are</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> long rock walls made of stones carved with intricate Buddhist symbols and
adorned with the ubiquitous Tibetan prayer flags. Buddhist doctrine dictates
that you always walk around these clockwise, so we were careful to stay to the
left of the walls as we passed by.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxddfyLeZzpA8qh51Up1dp-MzuKQpkGHAXCTN0A4e3Qqfs426uK_OZj8fYDyDiub9ZqG65wlnZb52kS7ZfMEkOvJHmLO2s0nzTdgABJ3e0lPCp2HiLzSwZCT5Z-hXZA8Rr0jDDFmqvS0g/s1600/20180526_130424.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxddfyLeZzpA8qh51Up1dp-MzuKQpkGHAXCTN0A4e3Qqfs426uK_OZj8fYDyDiub9ZqG65wlnZb52kS7ZfMEkOvJHmLO2s0nzTdgABJ3e0lPCp2HiLzSwZCT5Z-hXZA8Rr0jDDFmqvS0g/s640/20180526_130424.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A mani wall</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Langtang literally means “follow the yaks”, and on Day 2 we started to see many of the valley’s
namesakes. I love the look of yaks – essentially huge, long-haired, horned cows
with fuzzy feather duster tails – and I found out on this hike that I also love
the cheese they produce. It’s nutty and sharp, and tastes a bit like a
combination of old cheddar and Parmesan. Delicious. Yak hair is also very soft
and makes a lovely warm blanket or scarf.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE65CuETI-RMmvJV-XO6CmBhAu7j6noP0jZVobuWf8dIVGKzfzo1ycCegr_sMpRO9UsIe4CbaZzNuyPV1eDN3zJybxqyZWGG_pE0-4f2vYNaH1DS2kRGuQ6wXMM5ejpmI6R22uXlBGBwM/s1600/20180529_161111.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1435" data-original-width="1600" height="572" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE65CuETI-RMmvJV-XO6CmBhAu7j6noP0jZVobuWf8dIVGKzfzo1ycCegr_sMpRO9UsIe4CbaZzNuyPV1eDN3zJybxqyZWGG_pE0-4f2vYNaH1DS2kRGuQ6wXMM5ejpmI6R22uXlBGBwM/s640/20180529_161111.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yakkity-Yak</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I
started feeling the effects of the altitude at about 3500 m. I didn’t feel sick
or have a headache, but my breathing became more laboured and every step upward
(and they were ALL steps upward, often literally on uneven, seemingly
never-ending stone stairs) felt like it took a disproportionate effort. We were moving
extremely slowly, but still covered good ground and reached our destination of
Kyanjin Gompa at about 2:30 in the afternoon. This village was quite a bit
larger than the ones we had been passing through, and it was nice to have a few
hours of daylight to stroll around at the base of the glaciers of Langtang Lirung, a 7000+ m mountain. The lodge was one of the nicer ones we
would stay at, and the only one that had a working hot shower. We quickly found
a bakery, devoured some surprisingly delicious cake, and sat happily in the sun
drinking tea and gazing at the insane scenery around us.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOoUniMYRVj7Y5EumM6byAhD8IPrYj_OoASoU26WeRg_B-Qh2bWYReMspyS-Eoir-olZOiQeflhUoLf8_xWt1CbV0z-HFDMJPIzYkX0jogechetGYlMZwyaTA9ciX9J1hkHnHULE2xRDk/s1600/20180526_135801.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOoUniMYRVj7Y5EumM6byAhD8IPrYj_OoASoU26WeRg_B-Qh2bWYReMspyS-Eoir-olZOiQeflhUoLf8_xWt1CbV0z-HFDMJPIzYkX0jogechetGYlMZwyaTA9ciX9J1hkHnHULE2xRDk/s640/20180526_135801.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arriving in Kyanjin Gompa</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkM2EIObyxEoE81OwSJWCvmJYBPwvAdvAR-ThWsWYuZK3JbP6eY5qrhNfTF1TlhygSbai8LS440hO1h-1Gqerd44AVk22sb0Tf8C8wpQ7r8ulM8TFAkbVLIy0XiOV69y6nqz6aMGkBgtk/s1600/20180526_142917.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkM2EIObyxEoE81OwSJWCvmJYBPwvAdvAR-ThWsWYuZK3JbP6eY5qrhNfTF1TlhygSbai8LS440hO1h-1Gqerd44AVk22sb0Tf8C8wpQ7r8ulM8TFAkbVLIy0XiOV69y6nqz6aMGkBgtk/s640/20180526_142917.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from our window at the tea house.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A side note about the food. In the Langtang Valley, the menu is regulated by the National Park Conservation Board, so that each tea house has the exact same one. On the first half of the hike, we were becoming a bit despondent about the food, which was really quite awful. Before the trek, I had been looking forward to eating dal bhat, which is the Nepalese staple food and is traditionally a delicious lentil soup served with rice and several side dishes of curried, steamed, and pickled vegetables. It's usually the perfect energy food (as Bishnu liked to say, "Dal bhat power, 24-hour!"). In the valley, however, the soup was basically just the water that lentils are cooked in, which looked and tasted for all the world like dirty dish water, and the only side vegetable was curried potatoes (these were, thankfully, really good). Turned off this dish at an early stage, we resorted to sampling other offerings on the menu like eggs and noodles, eggs and rice, eggs and potatoes, etc. Everything was the same bland colour and flavour, and there was not a vegetable to be seen (except for the potatoes, I suppose). I am not saying any of this to complain: this is a harsh, remote mountain environment where basically nothing grows, and all the food needs to be carried in by donkey. We survived just fine for a few days eating this way. However, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that it was difficult, especially when expending so much energy every day and already dealing with digestive issues thanks to the altitude combined with the exertion. Luckily, our food options would change slightly on the second half of the hike, which we very much appreciated. More on this in a bit.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWwE4i5Wxq7pNwJ1_2sv_HtHv9JS6NUt1G3lP0CPz-10EXVMuIbD8NmWE35rZ2C5FgOnnlkGxhc5vHBpT0EP1Y7QMDLEjjByXp2HLqxxtnxCPk_nNA9YNE11UZ5B1PT6PkWtlauBF4_2s/s1600/20180527_122531.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWwE4i5Wxq7pNwJ1_2sv_HtHv9JS6NUt1G3lP0CPz-10EXVMuIbD8NmWE35rZ2C5FgOnnlkGxhc5vHBpT0EP1Y7QMDLEjjByXp2HLqxxtnxCPk_nNA9YNE11UZ5B1PT6PkWtlauBF4_2s/s640/20180527_122531.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sustenance.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Day 3: Kyanjin Ri peak (4400m), then down
to Lama (2470m); 24k</span></h4>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Brendan and I woke up early the next morning to get a side hike in before we headed back down the trail with our guide. There was a peak just behind our tea house called Kyanjin Ri, and it was impossible to resist climbing to it. We set out before breakfast with a Snickers bar each and some water. It was so nice to hike with only a running pack, instead of lugging the heavy hiking pack around! The climb, although only about 2.5k, was really tough, owing to breaking through the 4000 m elevation mark. It's quite humbling to experience how difficult everything at altitude is, and I kept reminding myself of the ultra running mantra "forward is a pace" to avoid getting overwhelmed with the uncooperativeness of my legs and lungs. We reached the peak in just over an hour, and relished in sitting at the top by ourselves for about 20 minutes, taking in the stunning views on a bluebird morning. We ran back down to the lodge, and it felt good to stretch the legs out and move a bit faster, even if we did get some strange glances from people as we burst back into the village.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9L9gs02dBWs4yaMpsNYyMnnVmrjGz2AAHd6apLxSCdj9D6ruEXa8LMyYptWSXfx69CiNeRFSZaue7_nw94TgjCVW9TcasisImIiufTulOIevZZ7l3Qme2FC30VsZ4IapBsXBq91BiKg/s1600/20180527_080226.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9L9gs02dBWs4yaMpsNYyMnnVmrjGz2AAHd6apLxSCdj9D6ruEXa8LMyYptWSXfx69CiNeRFSZaue7_nw94TgjCVW9TcasisImIiufTulOIevZZ7l3Qme2FC30VsZ4IapBsXBq91BiKg/s640/20180527_080226.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kyanjin Ri peak, 4400m. Langtang Lirung (the <i>real</i> peak) behind us.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">From Kyanjin Ri peak down to our destination for Day 3 was 2000 m of descent, and this hike was nothing short of a slog. We had already covered all of this ground, so retracing our steps while constantly hiking down steep terrain, even though we were moving much faster than when hiking uphill, was hard on both the body and the mind. We arrived at Lama Hotel feeling quite rough, and our spirits were not exactly buoyed by this accommodation, which was the most...rustic one that we stayed in. Collapsing into our sleeping bags at the end of the day, we resolved to just get through the night and look forward to the next day of new trails up the other side of the valley.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3kc1BwiN9xxagbV3fEEdnky61WFkQBoWi5fzOYgkymPEhGoq1ao5E02q-65tM7OsVIjVSOZ5Qe23i5cpGnsJicAOYh3mxicWSm9aSLS_CBzUKXvbNpJLIWA2trrZNK5ZcDjqBAPzgyeI/s1600/20180525_142135.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3kc1BwiN9xxagbV3fEEdnky61WFkQBoWi5fzOYgkymPEhGoq1ao5E02q-65tM7OsVIjVSOZ5Qe23i5cpGnsJicAOYh3mxicWSm9aSLS_CBzUKXvbNpJLIWA2trrZNK5ZcDjqBAPzgyeI/s640/20180525_142135.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I didn't take one photo on the way down, so here's a pic from the path up. Just picture us hiking down these for 5 hours.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Day 4: Lama to Thulu Shyaphru (2470m –
2250m); 12k</span></h4>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Day 4 had us hiking down to a fork in the trail, then up the other side of the valley on new terrain, climbing back up about 800 m to reach essentially the same elevation that we started at in the morning. We had been hiking for about 30 minutes after our lunch break when we got hit by a sudden, violent thunderstorm with marble-sized hail and torrential rain being blown horizontally by the wind. Struggling to stay warm in the pelting rain, we passed by a small home perched on the side of the mountain, and the man inside immediately invited us in to warm up. We tried to politely take our soaking wet, muddy shoes off at the door, but he was having none of it, and ushered us in to his home. The house was a clay shelter with a corrugated metal roof weighted down with rocks; the whole thing was no larger than a typical North American bathroom, and housed a family of 5. We peeled off our wet jackets and sat inside in front of the wood fire; Brendan sat on the family's bed and I sat in the kitchen area on a long bench. The man made us black tea as he was serving his family some soup for lunch. I was struck by how organized and neat everything was in this house; it contained everything you need, and nothing more. This experience was in many ways the highlight of our entire hike, and we later said that we were actually glad to have been caught in the storm so that we could experience this generous and warm hospitality.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLqFXx4ZSzNmB5H8hv_F2JyTjSycAAtn826-UGAh6qEQ_Y3SgsONMmXctITB9FF7chZ4KCyrgLt1CuA0cVIagM7py9rvcBvizX7E6w4PoP7wgDGy6q2ZdSk3fodxughTeoM4kEtSpS8rY/s1600/shelter.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="539" data-original-width="960" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLqFXx4ZSzNmB5H8hv_F2JyTjSycAAtn826-UGAh6qEQ_Y3SgsONMmXctITB9FF7chZ4KCyrgLt1CuA0cVIagM7py9rvcBvizX7E6w4PoP7wgDGy6q2ZdSk3fodxughTeoM4kEtSpS8rY/s640/shelter.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shelter from the storm.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">After we finished our tea, the rain let up and we continued on our way after profusely thanking the man for his kindness. We left some money tucked under a tea cup, not wanting to make a display of it but hoping that the family could make good use of some extra cash. The trail snaked down to a suspension bridge over a river, then began to climb upward again through a vastly different landscape than we had experienced on the other side. This was lush and green, with terraced agriculture at every opportunity. We could see corn, barley, greens, garlic, squash, tomatoes, and onions growing in gardens, and were optimistic that perhaps we would not, in fact, develop scurvy on this trek. Our day ended in the cute village of Thulu Shyaphru, with the nicest lodge that we stayed in the whole week, complete with a bathroom attached to our room with a real shower (albeit cold), flush toilet, and sink (most lodges had outdoor pit toilets and a hose from the mountain stream to wash up). We felt like we were in the throes of extreme luxury as we sipped masala chai in the little courtyard and ordered chicken curry with vegetables for dinner. Although the tea houses on this side of the trek still had the same menu, they had the addition of a curry section, owing to (a) more Hindu influence on this side, and (b) the agricultural options. It was a perfect re-set halfway through our trek, and we slept like logs for the first time, with satisfied bellies and (relatively) clean bodies. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG4zom5ZiRGKpBqua24xTKQeqLWs6tdDrgiW8AHJBYmKcvxGfYNaUH5189dxqvTNQv27i44sNcaEC52qdifXqdNKYTODMficD9GBAC5sbEDpio4D54a0EY7QWkISLG0HjWPnfCft1D7J8/s1600/20180529_085307.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG4zom5ZiRGKpBqua24xTKQeqLWs6tdDrgiW8AHJBYmKcvxGfYNaUH5189dxqvTNQv27i44sNcaEC52qdifXqdNKYTODMficD9GBAC5sbEDpio4D54a0EY7QWkISLG0HjWPnfCft1D7J8/s640/20180529_085307.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Agriculture, I love you.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Day 5 and 6: Thulu Shyaphru to Chyolangpati (2250m
– 3654m) to Gosainkunda (4380 m); 13k</span></h4>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Nothing but climbing on Day 5. As we left the agricultural area behind, we hiked through vast rhododendron forests. Rhododendron is the national flower of Nepal, and Bishnu collected some dried flowers to save for making tea later on. The weather had stayed cloudy after the storm the day before, and we spent most of this day in the mist but never got rained on. We kept hearing cuckoos singing away - I had never heard one before, but there is no mistaking that call - they sound exactly like cuckoo clocks. It was pretty comical. Apparently cuckoos migrate to Nepal in the summer months from as far away as Africa.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLNs1xE2jaA3apkCbC7L73SiOqOAluASLYJMvn1xrdlONrEeaMY6y0od93MXvHW4kjtj28u_JfwxcNalk_1HoTIHUk_M6UDOdpqPeQwwyxkAHTxAFQEJdMWIkvi80-OoVReaS1yh53icg/s1600/20180531_115408.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLNs1xE2jaA3apkCbC7L73SiOqOAluASLYJMvn1xrdlONrEeaMY6y0od93MXvHW4kjtj28u_JfwxcNalk_1HoTIHUk_M6UDOdpqPeQwwyxkAHTxAFQEJdMWIkvi80-OoVReaS1yh53icg/s640/20180531_115408.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rhododendron forest. Now imagine the sound of a cuckoo clock, and you're as good as there.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We finished the day fairly early in the village of Chyolangpati, where only one lodge was open. Day 6 was much the same: climbing, climbing, ever slower as the air got thinner. We had no views as we made our way up the trail, but it was nice to hike in cooler temperatures than the sauna we had started in 5 days earlier. We reached Gosainkunda in good time, just before the sky opened up and started raining/hailing/snowing. The highest altitude we would stay at on the trek, it was freezing, and we spent the afternoon huddled in front of the woodstove in the eating area. We met two separate groups of Nepali hikers, most of whom spoke good English, and we really enjoyed getting to know them and chatting the afternoon and early evening away while drinking hot water from a huge pot on top of the stove. Our room was so cold that we hung a carpet in front of the window to try to insulate from the wind howling</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> through it, and slept in all of our clothes (almost literally: I was wearing long underwear, wool socks, a merino wool shirt, a fleece, puffy jacket, and toque) inside our sleeping bags, with two blankets piled on top of us. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlpExuD35riuVNGMiz5SjPnftmiBgEIVSmtBAJj3NaYNAL6KWREOGOWqaGAmDwqqajjelzZO4iv9H26aeb6wKMiF82oZwXis5SYtO1Pk3MWGSvP6OPT0l7mt4IyYGuZbiLpohEwhkVr6Q/s1600/20180530_181040.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlpExuD35riuVNGMiz5SjPnftmiBgEIVSmtBAJj3NaYNAL6KWREOGOWqaGAmDwqqajjelzZO4iv9H26aeb6wKMiF82oZwXis5SYtO1Pk3MWGSvP6OPT0l7mt4IyYGuZbiLpohEwhkVr6Q/s640/20180530_181040.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gosainkunda<br /><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeEMKKK8DBQdQCiDrXHlKS-cXECH3IZcCh6D4FbWy_jAX8ZP1RPVp168rAiCg2ZDicIORJ5ZO1wcoDDlWPr70oV25EfdBfOn8cLFfPjwkXH__LTrAZx_SnWb7DUc3_LNWpphgWILe5NDw/s1600/20180530_130451.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeEMKKK8DBQdQCiDrXHlKS-cXECH3IZcCh6D4FbWy_jAX8ZP1RPVp168rAiCg2ZDicIORJ5ZO1wcoDDlWPr70oV25EfdBfOn8cLFfPjwkXH__LTrAZx_SnWb7DUc3_LNWpphgWILe5NDw/s640/20180530_130451.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm under there somewhere.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Day 7: Laurebina Pass (4620m), then down to
Sing Gompa (3250m); 15k</span></h4>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Surprisingly, I had a great sleep under all those layers, and we woke up to a clear morning so decided to do another side excursion on our own. We set out to gain Laurebina pass, which, at over 4600 m, would be the high point of our trek. Being alone on this trail was an amazing experience - it felt like we were the only people in the world. It was so gorgeous and almost completely silent - the only sounds were of birds chirping. We hiked past several alpine lakes and reached the pass after about 45 minutes, sitting under the prayer flags for some time, gazing at the snowy Manaslu mountains in the far distance and marvelling at the silence. </span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn4PM4mTdwH6pM6fePIUuOfZg8d-blkLK53oWcmom14nRiOSTCh_nc-11H0ksD1-2hU0TaITa9heDF0t5f2N8e3RREZaIOpBsk9aMv0_LI9DhqjyxLyvWjik4GF2fURyg_lYS8VjNGCyM/s1600/20180531_081657.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn4PM4mTdwH6pM6fePIUuOfZg8d-blkLK53oWcmom14nRiOSTCh_nc-11H0ksD1-2hU0TaITa9heDF0t5f2N8e3RREZaIOpBsk9aMv0_LI9DhqjyxLyvWjik4GF2fURyg_lYS8VjNGCyM/s640/20180531_081657.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Laurebina Pass, 4620 m. Brendan's feeling sick; I'm just high on a Snickers bar.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The day before, one of our new friends had told us of a Nepalese tradition of building rock cairns to wish the departed a safe and happy journey in the afterlife. I thought of this story as we sat in this peaceful place, and decided to build one for my dad. It was quite an emotional, but very special moment, and I couldn't think of a better place for this cairn to stand. A few seconds after I built the cairn, a bird landed on top of the prayer flags, our only company the entire morning. As I fumbled with my phone to try to get a picture, it took flight, departing in a beautiful flutter of wings.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSMvrXYfxyWbHpatchT8C72M2nLRTVPyYsmWFz4lPflRVV3dRMkdJZw8HWOPZsC33-DDJJnVhdfafRSeu1N7Dndgb4DDv-9IH6MHWkLnlqoq2n6zrPxo387BEG7DEl5Ak_fVVxV7SqGWY/s1600/20180531_082133.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSMvrXYfxyWbHpatchT8C72M2nLRTVPyYsmWFz4lPflRVV3dRMkdJZw8HWOPZsC33-DDJJnVhdfafRSeu1N7Dndgb4DDv-9IH6MHWkLnlqoq2n6zrPxo387BEG7DEl5Ak_fVVxV7SqGWY/s640/20180531_082133.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As we headed back to the lodge, we travelled the shore of Gosainkunda, a high altitude lake that is of spiritual significance to both Hindu and Buddhist religions. Every year, people make pilgrimages</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> to the lake, which is thought to be holy water. The tradition is to dip your whole body three times into the lake; this is said to absolve you of your sins. Although it was freezing cold water, the morning was sunny and the air felt warm, and I couldn't pass up jumping in. I did my quick three dips, the cold making me gasp for breath and my limbs going numb as I waded back out of the water. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwQdIVWcxbnUYkgxfU83wuWdkQbwrLQFBnRkrmfUa2Sp-0yWxznwsFFLl3jcFTHBpBv9MAt5TLL-ilG1aczuIlmIVvUH_EHJqMAaNfAjsCIqB1oadzSLzB5WkZtM9AP6fh5WzVOQteWaM/s1600/20180531_091608.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwQdIVWcxbnUYkgxfU83wuWdkQbwrLQFBnRkrmfUa2Sp-0yWxznwsFFLl3jcFTHBpBv9MAt5TLL-ilG1aczuIlmIVvUH_EHJqMAaNfAjsCIqB1oadzSLzB5WkZtM9AP6fh5WzVOQteWaM/s640/20180531_091608.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A dip in the lake ;)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">After breakfast and a futile attempt to warm up after my sin-cleansing, we started back down the trail. The weather had turned again, and we felt like we were hiking in a cloud, with very low visibility and cold temperatures (I was hiking for the first time in my puffy jacket). We stopped for lunch at Chyolangpati, where we had stayed on night 5, then continued onward down a new trail to the village of Sing Gompa, for another day of continuous steep downhill. The highlight of this village was the yak cheese factory, where we bought a hunk of the hard cheese to munch on over the next couple days.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:DocumentProperties>
<o:Revision>0</o:Revision>
<o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime>
<o:Pages>1</o:Pages>
<o:Words>718</o:Words>
<o:Characters>4093</o:Characters>
<o:Company>University of Guelph</o:Company>
<o:Lines>34</o:Lines>
<o:Paragraphs>9</o:Paragraphs>
<o:CharactersWithSpaces>4802</o:CharactersWithSpaces>
<o:Version>14.0</o:Version>
</o:DocumentProperties>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>JA</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/>
<w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/>
<w:OverrideTableStyleHps/>
<w:UseFELayout/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="276">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="59" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-ansi-language:EN-US;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy1fpmXdOzXtfJlRS5Y03pRdWhITkubjPTPtyewP3JmKWhss3cLCw6icEuxZQHfgWXwVNPYR19aIAQYzL3Z9vI-jMfHGiFpMzAolNnVeea31GscUhXPVlBpMyhqpyNMsCcvJ3uDqPTk0M/s1600/20180530_103319.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy1fpmXdOzXtfJlRS5Y03pRdWhITkubjPTPtyewP3JmKWhss3cLCw6icEuxZQHfgWXwVNPYR19aIAQYzL3Z9vI-jMfHGiFpMzAolNnVeea31GscUhXPVlBpMyhqpyNMsCcvJ3uDqPTk0M/s640/20180530_103319.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Into the mist.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Day 8: Sing Gompa to Dunche (3250m –
1950m); 10k</span></h4>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Our last day was uneventful, and I was a mixed bag of emotions as we descended to our final destination. I was so grateful for the experience, and feeling sad that it was ending, but also excited to be finished and heading to Kathmandu for some relaxation time. I was also exhausted, and looking forward to returning to good food and indoor plumbing. We hiked back down into the tropical forest and marvelled at how lush it was after being in alpine environments for so long. We followed a river that originated in Gosainkunda, and met our jeep at the trailhead in the roadside village of Dunche. It was strange to see roads and vehicles again, and to hear the sounds of village life outside of the mountains. "Just" a 6-hour drive back to the city, and our Langtang adventure was officially over.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMbB84D_5QwFcifmES0GNB2T18qzrtVjRq7quBdyiZiJ2HLDBdR-7wcp4qSq0pUwxuo6lTYpJuvew54BDFsBwqU2QeNUZlfEPQXDDVUgH5toeUqW_0VehiL2Qjwvzz6GOuSe5vX0LwcOc/s1600/20180601_102056.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMbB84D_5QwFcifmES0GNB2T18qzrtVjRq7quBdyiZiJ2HLDBdR-7wcp4qSq0pUwxuo6lTYpJuvew54BDFsBwqU2QeNUZlfEPQXDDVUgH5toeUqW_0VehiL2Qjwvzz6GOuSe5vX0LwcOc/s640/20180601_102056.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The end of the road.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Despite the lengthiness of this blog post, it's still quite difficult to adequately describe this experience. I have wanted to go to Nepal for a very long time, and it was everything I expected it to be, and more. The mountains are beautiful, the people are wonderful, and the different religions seem to coexist in a mutually respectful harmony. I love that Tibetan prayer flags hang everywhere, and think that their symbology really sums up Nepal as a whole. The flags represent earth, wind, sky, fire, and water, and are meant to be hung in high places so that they are always in motion. As the flags flutter in the breeze, they spread compassion, peace, wisdom, and strength into the space around them. What a wonderful thought. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoUD0svmtW6QGB3Lhuq1vrd52bNEG84xt_1u7WS4qjValAtb9hVFdb0Q5s_3vtvvYaRGr_gXubkTqB487cTbEQx3SpVeNWhk0q_3wCkYUjfmx4T6GSkTP8db4LVYMMA-Hi6NxYAFMENmk/s1600/20180531_082316.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoUD0svmtW6QGB3Lhuq1vrd52bNEG84xt_1u7WS4qjValAtb9hVFdb0Q5s_3vtvvYaRGr_gXubkTqB487cTbEQx3SpVeNWhk0q_3wCkYUjfmx4T6GSkTP8db4LVYMMA-Hi6NxYAFMENmk/s640/20180531_082316.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-53350826755670428322018-04-17T08:24:00.000-07:002018-04-17T08:24:10.868-07:00Diez Vista 50k 2018: Back in my Groove<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Diez Vista 50k was my first ultra since May 2017. I tore a hamstring tendon in July of last year, and watched my summer and fall racing (and adventuring) season slip by as I worked to rehab that injury. I was finally healthy enough to start running again at the beginning of November, and signed up for Diez to give myself a goal to work towards and to motivate me through the winter months. I had never done this classic local race and was looking forward to a new experience after having raced Chuckanut for the last two years as my early season ultra.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fast forward to April 14th: I had a fantastic day out there. I finished in 5:55, placed 6th female and, most importantly, had no hamstring pain whatsoever. I couldn't have asked for a better race at this point in my training, when I am still in a building phase. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFTzwxRGuWWRN-8XZ0p0etYrioFx67SnxqoPzv3XpYHBuacqCFyYpjuuGtC5BWRXKztbE7zHsDNQaH6pOZ1Ka-f8FJFuha1C3qNsB9RyyPl-4zs-RjGE12O2Y89AZHdesfFAB0HtNmqQ/s1600/dv50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFTzwxRGuWWRN-8XZ0p0etYrioFx67SnxqoPzv3XpYHBuacqCFyYpjuuGtC5BWRXKztbE7zHsDNQaH6pOZ1Ka-f8FJFuha1C3qNsB9RyyPl-4zs-RjGE12O2Y89AZHdesfFAB0HtNmqQ/s640/dv50.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Happy Trails. Pic: Brian McCurdy</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The night before the race, I wrote down my goals and how I planned on achieving them. This is a ritual I do for every race; I find it calming and a nice way to frame my expectations for the next day. My 'A' goal was to run 5:40 - this was a lofty one, but not outside my wheelhouse on a good day. In retrospect, I don't have the fitness right now to run that fast on that course, and am not disappointed that I didn't hit that time. I did achieve my B goal of going sub-6 hrs, and as always my C goal (which is really the main one) of having fun. </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Tci3RZKLcavO2uqgS57khmn7bKxZyLk8qc-IoyJYHh1ZD-KKTOAZcwJQp4iSOOLd4D3fvAmV3ywAwhH5VI0L2GDfLVc6KbXubfYi-Atdr-VB8IcPFW5g25aod1pXFBeyMwHle3xJS-w/s1600/IMG_20180415_112821387.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Tci3RZKLcavO2uqgS57khmn7bKxZyLk8qc-IoyJYHh1ZD-KKTOAZcwJQp4iSOOLd4D3fvAmV3ywAwhH5VI0L2GDfLVc6KbXubfYi-Atdr-VB8IcPFW5g25aod1pXFBeyMwHle3xJS-w/s640/IMG_20180415_112821387.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">A recipe for success: positive thinking, and food.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Because really, what on earth is the point of running for 6 hours if you're not enjoying it? Don't get me wrong - I had a couple low moments, and was pushing hard out there. I'm not just la-dee-da-ing my way through the race (it is a race, after all). But I am absolutely convinced that one of the surest paths to success in racing is to stay in a positive headspace, even when you're grinding it out and suffering a little. If your brain is happy, your body will follow. This is why I use the mantra, "I LOVE THIS!". I really do, and it's worth reminding myself of that when it gets tough (which it inevitably does).</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtVqIyRojPo7dnCMnPLrl8mVcKT3f5JSBFqaFoVO1KI63xC3UE6qfvjmUGIDXIMEu4uFkpsjJc45gHTKVW6UBbCTU6VB4ln2Kg41wV5Y6N9QOJH67gLPcPMxlbTgsc720QvRUNEuTG6pM/s1600/IMG_5793.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtVqIyRojPo7dnCMnPLrl8mVcKT3f5JSBFqaFoVO1KI63xC3UE6qfvjmUGIDXIMEu4uFkpsjJc45gHTKVW6UBbCTU6VB4ln2Kg41wV5Y6N9QOJH67gLPcPMxlbTgsc720QvRUNEuTG6pM/s640/IMG_5793.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Before the start, deciding whether to wear my jacket. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">And yes, those are unicorn rainbow socks that I made into arm warmers. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">Pic: Nadine Schuurman</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The weather forecast leading up to the race was horrendous, and it looked like it was going to be a repeat of DV 2017: Monsoon and Hypothermia Edition - but miraculously, we ended up with a perfect weather window that included not a drop of rain and even a little sunshine. (The course flagging team was not so lucky, as they endured torrential rain and hail for the two days leading up to the race - thanks, guys!). I arrived an hour early to the start, feeling prepared and uncharacteristically calm. I snacked on some chews, did a few breathing exercises in the car, jogged a quick little leg shakeout warm-up, and before I knew it we were off.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVQDrsNP9OE1l5Lbps4maVkz8sq87zoh9xndHGdrUp31NJ5LP6o_So7b1kJ-CqejwP95trH6ks0T3wbDWKOR_pgwCrF-5ly-PzvL29GPltGAr0GOe13e88EzcX9L2MZGuInJ8iekL7oWc/s1600/diezvista2018-scottrobartsphotography-20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVQDrsNP9OE1l5Lbps4maVkz8sq87zoh9xndHGdrUp31NJ5LP6o_So7b1kJ-CqejwP95trH6ks0T3wbDWKOR_pgwCrF-5ly-PzvL29GPltGAr0GOe13e88EzcX9L2MZGuInJ8iekL7oWc/s640/diezvista2018-scottrobartsphotography-20.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">A few kms into the race - jacket still on (this did not last long). Pic: Scott Robarts</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It takes me a long time to get into a groove at races and, knowing this, I started at a comfortable pace and stuck to my strategy of not worrying about what other people were doing. I was running in about 9th position, staying well within myself on the first big climb up the Diez Vistas trail and remarking, "Hey, we actually get some vistas!" as we reached the first of the viewpoints. I opened up a bit on the technical downhill, knowing that being familiar and comfortable with running fast on terrain like this offers a big advantage for making up time with relatively little effort. I must say though, that trail was treacherous - it was so wet from the days of rain leading up to the race that the roots were insanely slippery, plus every little depression between rocks and roots was filled with water so that you couldn't quite see what you were stepping on. Despite some very near wipeouts, I passed 3 women on the descent, and was sitting in 6th when I reached the second aid station at ~15k. </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-3cUV_B2MEXJtCjQ8dOERB_2SU2K6gKLZ28u86IkxvMasXZazj4RQ7lWy6oRPrRhwh3IW8blCWowhjW6oC1vaIiHvGVWejZMlZzw5wWMrOTPPdoFerydOh6-XMEooa-Stlh-2I4I5ilM/s1600/16839655_10101040215802195_741789724_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-3cUV_B2MEXJtCjQ8dOERB_2SU2K6gKLZ28u86IkxvMasXZazj4RQ7lWy6oRPrRhwh3IW8blCWowhjW6oC1vaIiHvGVWejZMlZzw5wWMrOTPPdoFerydOh6-XMEooa-Stlh-2I4I5ilM/s640/16839655_10101040215802195_741789724_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">One of the ten vistas on the course. Photo taken on a training run last year.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After that aid station, my mental framework of how the course would play out was thrown a couple curve balls. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was counting on the ~10k Buntzen Lake loop being nice and runnable - which it should have been, but for some reason I felt like I was moving terribly slowly in this section, and just couldn't get into a rhythm. I also started to feel a stabbing pain on the underside of my foot on this trail, which I initially thought was a stone stuck in my shoe, but when I took my shoe off to investigate it turned out to be a pretty sizeable blister, likely from my drenched socks bunching up a little under my feet. This pain was pretty bad for the whole second half of the race; but, once I realized what it was, I filed it away as something that I just needed to push through.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguuRJDEdz3z2_WR_xsFgIiqupdbk-tSsfnbVjtT0DZa4JAADMivl6t_EKw0gTfU2ilRwPf1yAVIztVtXfI1R7bbLU_y5yxGZvr9-GQIskONI1GCU6y0_2EVPmDmjVb7IEG-2YkDHEWLrk/s1600/diezvista2018-scottrobartsphotography-164.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguuRJDEdz3z2_WR_xsFgIiqupdbk-tSsfnbVjtT0DZa4JAADMivl6t_EKw0gTfU2ilRwPf1yAVIztVtXfI1R7bbLU_y5yxGZvr9-GQIskONI1GCU6y0_2EVPmDmjVb7IEG-2YkDHEWLrk/s640/diezvista2018-scottrobartsphotography-164.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Suffering a little at this point, but pushing through. Pic: Scott Robarts</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">In contrast to the Buntzen trail, I had expected the long out-and-back section along the power lines and gravel road, leading to and from the ~37k aid station, to be a mental and physical slog. In reality, I actually really enjoyed this part of the course. It was nice to be able to get into a flow, cruising on the flat and downhill, and jogging/power hiking up the hills. I made up quite a bit of time and passed a lot of people in this stretch, and got a big boost at the aid station when I was surprised to see Brendan, Alicia, and Julien waiting there to cheer me on. I should note that this is also fairly typical of when I start to feel good in a race - somewhere around 25-30k seems to be when I finally feel like I can run (side note: this is, for obvious reasons, less than ideal when I run 25k races - something to work on!).</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWAUaL7MRgib7vbAdval7mRmYPXtPpXYvCjmsS48kSOKMmV5fEQvdkW-aIiHCMCbV4UGzFoFS9jgCqD4EiIy4iw7IHKKpmIUeoQIAI3jh39HRdjywtgErOIhpfa1YFdMmqwL40HjkHPyo/s1600/IMG_20180417_075209_295.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWAUaL7MRgib7vbAdval7mRmYPXtPpXYvCjmsS48kSOKMmV5fEQvdkW-aIiHCMCbV4UGzFoFS9jgCqD4EiIy4iw7IHKKpmIUeoQIAI3jh39HRdjywtgErOIhpfa1YFdMmqwL40HjkHPyo/s640/IMG_20180417_075209_295.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Back in my groove. Pic: Pargol Lakhan</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">The moral of the story: you can be as prepared as you want, but sometimes expectations don't pan out and you just have to go with the flow on race day: learn to manage the times when you're not feeling great, and take advantage of the times when everything clicks. I have yet to run an ultra where I don't experience both of these scenarios - a lot can happen in 5, 6, 7+ hours of running!</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I loved the somewhat technical downhill at about 40k - it was really fun to run down, and I was feeling great on the descent. I knew the race was almost over, and that there was just one short but tough climb left, back up to the Saddle after the final aid station. I charged my way up that climb and actually passed Sonya, the 5th place woman, on the gravelly downhill, trying to fly past her and look stronger than I was feeling (I was, in fact, totally exhausted). Unfortunately, she responded right away and came past me again in about 45 seconds, and I tried to stay with her but just couldn't do it. I popped out of the trail onto the road just as Tory was driving by, honking the horn and yelling encouragement at me out the window. The route back down Sugar Mountain "Trail" was essentially like running through a flowing stream, but at this point it really didn't matter how wet my feet were and the cold water actually felt kind of nice, so I just splashed and crashed my way down it with somewhat reckless abandon, getting some startled looks from a family hiking up the trail who quickly gave me a wide berth as I flailed past.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Bv03Km1o43KPIjP_Qu6peYM6OArZJB8S9B8DaX7_mNxZbNNeifgQMJGHxiQgbnOc68dOxjRbKAV7T-MYCzRid3yn9R__m8wOWFVlTzRd6oHPFjxiZoQYG59Rw7gU214sArq5LCrqnIs/s1600/diezvista2018-scottrobartsphotography-335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Bv03Km1o43KPIjP_Qu6peYM6OArZJB8S9B8DaX7_mNxZbNNeifgQMJGHxiQgbnOc68dOxjRbKAV7T-MYCzRid3yn9R__m8wOWFVlTzRd6oHPFjxiZoQYG59Rw7gU214sArq5LCrqnIs/s640/diezvista2018-scottrobartsphotography-335.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Happiness is a Gary Robbins hug at the finish line. Pic: Scott Robarts</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The race finishes on the same stretch around Sasamat Lake as Run Ridge Run, so I knew that trail quite well - the only difference being that Diez Vista routes runners up a long flight of stairs right before running back down to the finish line on White Pine beach. I did indeed curse those stairs as I tried (unsuccessfully) to run up them - but soon I was tearing back down toward the awkward "sprint" along the sand toward the finish line. My friend Jenny had crossed the line 10 minutes earlier in 4th position, and Sonya finished just under a minute ahead of me in 5th. The three of us waded into the lake and exchanged battle stories. Sonya asked me, "Did you almost get hit by a car back there? I heard honking and screaming!", and I cracked up (meanwhile, Gary joked that sure, she was worried ... but not worried enough to stop running and check to make sure that I had not, in fact, been hit by a car ;).</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeS_hSHDHctSK-GlmVozoEJxZ7Ia2zhriu5206Xllorw1WddIWnb2W7d5GGgsIuSar7Roy1HYH7yUurZOIlrGcYEI76OEVtcR3hotg6_lZUQcNe2mspTq21RIRBrieuHFgO3EZlSq5g4Y/s1600/30709729_10101340487954139_8753490472799830016_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeS_hSHDHctSK-GlmVozoEJxZ7Ia2zhriu5206Xllorw1WddIWnb2W7d5GGgsIuSar7Roy1HYH7yUurZOIlrGcYEI76OEVtcR3hotg6_lZUQcNe2mspTq21RIRBrieuHFgO3EZlSq5g4Y/s640/30709729_10101340487954139_8753490472799830016_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Me and Jenny at the finish. Pic: Tory Scholz (who did NOT hit me with her car). </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A couple days later, I am feeling a normal amount of tiredness, ravenous hunger mixed with slight queasiness, and stiff legs - but no injury-type feelings, which I am so, so pleased with. My legs were solid and strong the whole race, and I did not feel so much as a twinge in my hamstring (or any other muscles). I owe the successful day to a few factors: it really helped having (a) cheers and encouragement from lots of people along the course (thank you, all of you - you know who you are), and (b) exchanging "way to go"s with other runners as we crossed paths on the out-and-back sections. Definitely my mental game was strong, and I never let myself get bogged down with negative thoughts. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I had a really solid, consistent training block for the 12 weeks leading up to the race, building slowly from about 55k/week at the beginning of the year to peaking at just under 80k/week at the end of March. It was low mileage, but targeted, and an agonizingly careful build up from starting from essentially zero back in November. I am really proud of </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">how I executed this training, and look forward to continuing to build on this platform for the rest of my season, which will culminate with the WAM 110 k in September. I LOVE THIS.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn1Cw_jgl4XCEKLyVfTKo2JMS5RGH-7UIoecxijbH6iKuCQsayyyj59QFhekbgwKndbmTm5ZMFfC0i4ghP5nK8T5K9kozUxQPYRFhNGFwmnOPjZ72HFyBh8sx-4xFPKlVfKyqQPxdfKTk/s1600/Screen+shot+2018-04-15+at+11.56.59+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="111" data-original-width="320" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn1Cw_jgl4XCEKLyVfTKo2JMS5RGH-7UIoecxijbH6iKuCQsayyyj59QFhekbgwKndbmTm5ZMFfC0i4ghP5nK8T5K9kozUxQPYRFhNGFwmnOPjZ72HFyBh8sx-4xFPKlVfKyqQPxdfKTk/s400/Screen+shot+2018-04-15+at+11.56.59+AM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">5 months of weekly building blocks toward race day.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-31952169975569149612017-12-31T14:59:00.000-08:002017-12-31T17:03:34.856-08:002017 in Review: Missteps in the Right Direction<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Every December, I write a blog reflecting on my year of running before I dive headlong into another year of training, racing, and adventuring. My immediate impression when I think about 2017 is that it was a bit of a non-starter: I was sidelined for a good portion of the summer and fall with a bad hamstring tendon strain, and because of this I have been finding it hard to start this post this year. Until just for a change, clarity came in the form of my run this morning. About half an hour into the route I had planned, I</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> found myself ploughing through deep snow on a trail I had assumed would be tracked out. I was getting frustrated at how slowly and awkwardly I was moving - this is not what I had envisioned for my last run of the year! I eventually turned around, and was met with this sight...</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVQnt5sgxjZkP3BgObS4inVSgNcOnfj-mGCqe0tnbH3lS2t8VCGVxQ8NdoK1SCxsbHFvS8JXT1KUOYEGKRK6GCAXm58WVnshLDLF-gLIdxrE-aIe4yq9nPF0BXQtufrVSM-rJb8FgoB28/s1600/IMG_20171231_112026601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVQnt5sgxjZkP3BgObS4inVSgNcOnfj-mGCqe0tnbH3lS2t8VCGVxQ8NdoK1SCxsbHFvS8JXT1KUOYEGKRK6GCAXm58WVnshLDLF-gLIdxrE-aIe4yq9nPF0BXQtufrVSM-rJb8FgoB28/s640/IMG_20171231_112026601.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">...which stopped me in my (fresh) tracks, and smacked some sense into me. Who cares if this run isn't what I had expected? It is still beautiful, and fun in its own way, and I am grateful to be running at all. And, of course, this also applies to my year of running.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When I take the time to reflect on what I accomplished in 2017, it was still a successful year in many regards. Stats-wise, I'm closing out the year having logged just over 2000 km of running and gaining over 66,000 m of elevation. That distance is right around where I generally have landed at the end of the year since I started trail running, but the elevation is greater than I usually end up with - which is surprising, considering I missed the summer mountain running season. Lots of rolling runs add up! </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEygVQJz8rbLOy8gC9ahDItnnZZi1qknz1j5xKXnhQP-wshYEXTHK9VtIphWS1DfbozVoE26nEfL5uvNGMVVVR0wzwHorBji2gOqwKzdxLqOJBNVHeQAEUoz6wz9BmZudikGe2RFZEmRo/s1600/2017+stats.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEygVQJz8rbLOy8gC9ahDItnnZZi1qknz1j5xKXnhQP-wshYEXTHK9VtIphWS1DfbozVoE26nEfL5uvNGMVVVR0wzwHorBji2gOqwKzdxLqOJBNVHeQAEUoz6wz9BmZudikGe2RFZEmRo/s640/2017+stats.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Owing to that injury, my race season was a shortened one, stretching from February to June. In that time, I raced two ~25k's (Run Ridge Run and Comfortably Numb), and two 50k's (Chuckanut and Tillamook Burn). Aside from Chuckanut, the leg pain disaster of which I have already blogged about, I ran well at all those races, placing 4th, 5th, and 6th female. Including Chuckanut, I was first in the 40-49 age group in all the races, except Comfy Numb where I was 2nd. I had actually forgotten all of this, incidentally, before I sat down to write this post. Interesting how achievements sometimes slip away until you stop to take stock.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYKIclp9NiYIz87ltcY6tb6sUFecKdWg3fzS-CJbBnsARPKE5jAkzv_7yx2EeQWp3nngpNRn3X56SYUqIDTDFw2X4YRgZO87NrXjtUpNITr1jD89STx85q0n5e5rEHxmum0TKIO1ShJDo/s1600/71837379-2017%252BRS%252BHH%252BComfortably%252BNumb%252B-149.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYKIclp9NiYIz87ltcY6tb6sUFecKdWg3fzS-CJbBnsARPKE5jAkzv_7yx2EeQWp3nngpNRn3X56SYUqIDTDFw2X4YRgZO87NrXjtUpNITr1jD89STx85q0n5e5rEHxmum0TKIO1ShJDo/s640/71837379-2017%252BRS%252BHH%252BComfortably%252BNumb%252B-149.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Comfortably Numb, Whistler. Photo courtesy of Rob Shaer.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The thing is, though, running for me is not about the race performances; not really. I enjoy the process of setting goals, training, and racing - and I am proud of the results I earn through that process - but racing has never been the reason I run. I run because I love it. I love the familiar practice of putting one step in front of the other and propelling myself through and to incredible places. Even with the layoff this year, I managed to squeeze in lots of fun adventures, including hiking to and camping at Lake Lovely Water for Alicia's stagette, exploring the new Lord of the Squirrels trail in Whistler with Cristina and Starr, doing an incredible 20k day hike in Tetrahedron Provincial Park with Brendan, introducing our newly adopted dog Hobbes to trail running, x-country skiing, and snowshoeing, and running with 30 girls to Elfin Lakes in costumes for Halloween. In short, 2017 was not a non-starter: it was another year of great experiences. Like my run this morning, it was just a matter of me looking back to realize it.</span><br />
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlYjmgNFq_4Gmzl6nYXrzWnKXdn3L4otXaCUmFTp4VoUtiX9J7lJG0KzrNhENbJRXmSuIjxXHXA-uHSZ0AQLY_0SBjKLdvaasw09Ad8xCWg1Zzebz5Lz7d_0hwvupXKJMtM5aDcP7GF8s/s1600/IMG_20171231_121810.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlYjmgNFq_4Gmzl6nYXrzWnKXdn3L4otXaCUmFTp4VoUtiX9J7lJG0KzrNhENbJRXmSuIjxXHXA-uHSZ0AQLY_0SBjKLdvaasw09Ad8xCWg1Zzebz5Lz7d_0hwvupXKJMtM5aDcP7GF8s/s640/IMG_20171231_121810.jpg" width="640" /></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The other great thing is that injuries always come with a silver lining, which is that when I can finally run again, my love of running is rekindled ten-fold. I come back more grateful, and more focused on why running is such an important part of my life. I've been slowly building my distance back up for two months now, and am back to running 50k weeks regularly. I'm back to running with my friends, and regaining both my treasured alone time and social time on the trails. </span><br />
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm back.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So this is how I end 2017, and start 2018. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Proud of what I have accomplished, and excited to set new goals and for the work I'll put in to achieve them. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Grateful, always, for the incredible people I get to share adventures with. And armed with the wisdom that even though runs, or races, or years, don't always go how I expect them to, I am still headed in the right direction. </span></div>
</div>
</div>
taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-27838817671010847232017-05-03T08:35:00.000-07:002017-05-03T18:06:02.344-07:00Tillamook Burn 50k 2017: Redemption via Pinot Noir<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A month and a half ago, I ran the Chuckanut 50k as my first ultra of the year. As I wrote in my last blog post, I had a pretty terrible run there: I never once felt good, the whole race, and missed my time goal by a large margin. It was, and still is, hard to put my finger on what went wrong that day, but something was just... "off". I came out of that race absolutely wrecked: my quads were incredibly sore for a week afterward, and I took 2 full weeks off running before gingerly easing my body and mind back into training. I was also feeling a little deflated, because I had trained hard through the winter and didn't feel like my performance was representative of my fitness. But as with everything, I had to draw from the experience what I could, then put it behind me and move forward, with my sights set on the Tillamook Burn 50k 6 weeks later. Because of the extended period of time off after Chuckanut, I basically just built my running back toward the 50k distance, figuring that I wouldn't need to taper much going into this next race. Brendan calls this the "slingshot" method, and I was about to find out how well it would work.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwowE2LaJqVCCoO7A4B264mMvetiOYNjb6U0e2iprkxPgJPfkWU_J-WkwlL_u35nfXcuy8p2vPw6fGanKrHuGkmhoQGQdey9hULGPkydEiq23q92QrcoiA-86RoA1D1d82W9JEauqwq9M/s1600/DSC05046.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwowE2LaJqVCCoO7A4B264mMvetiOYNjb6U0e2iprkxPgJPfkWU_J-WkwlL_u35nfXcuy8p2vPw6fGanKrHuGkmhoQGQdey9hULGPkydEiq23q92QrcoiA-86RoA1D1d82W9JEauqwq9M/s640/DSC05046.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just after the turnaround. Photo courtesy of Steven Mortinson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">All I can say is, what a difference 6 weeks can make! Tillamook Burn was this past Sunday, and I had as close to a perfect race as I could have imagined at this point in the season. Because Brendan and I made this Oregon trip a mini-vacation, I had a completely different mindset going into this race: I was very relaxed about it, and just wanted to have fun. We drove down on Friday and checked into our cute little airbnb, an apartment in an old farmhouse in Forest Grove - in the heart of Oregon wine country and only a 30 minute drive from the race start in Tillamook State Forest. After a quick shakeout run along the rolling country roads on Saturday morning, we spent all afternoon touring the various wineries that were within a 20-minute drive from our apartment </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">and sampling flight after flight of wine</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">. I'm not entirely sure how much Pinot Noir (my favourite wine, and the one Oregon is best known for) I consumed that day, but you could say it was not exactly my usual pre-race preparation...although I was making sure to drink a lot of water to stay hydrated(!). It was such a relaxing and fun day, and I slept like a log that night (after devouring a huge amount of pizza). I honestly don't think I have ever been that well rested going into a race...perhaps I'm onto something with the wine drinking?</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG5DR21ftU2EQFuASq5fpopfrBAluY0w7P5mfZI65akBoTo11eBSowT8r-hhoChXCtbYyhUlouNDgGysoBIgx5UPv1pE9uOGsxzqd1GvA5JpOtHb9ySpE_VraGPETZXxABwtJjtIdEdjc/s1600/IMG_20170429_164116738.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG5DR21ftU2EQFuASq5fpopfrBAluY0w7P5mfZI65akBoTo11eBSowT8r-hhoChXCtbYyhUlouNDgGysoBIgx5UPv1pE9uOGsxzqd1GvA5JpOtHb9ySpE_VraGPETZXxABwtJjtIdEdjc/s640/IMG_20170429_164116738.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yep.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The race started at the very civilized time of 8:00, and we arrived at the start about 45 minutes early to a cheery and chilly scene at Reehers Camp, with people gathered around a big bonfire at check-in and the bbq food truck and local brewery already set up on site, getting ready to dole out post-race snacks and beer. The 50k course is an out-and-back, on what had been described to me as "very runnable" trail, but with lots of climbing. The route gains and loses about 2000 m (7000 ft) of elevation, so I knew that the course, no matter how runnable it was, was going to be a challenge. This was my 6th 50k race, and although I feel like I've gained a lot of confidence over the 3 years that I've been running them, I still don't feel like I can "race" an entire 50k. It just seems like too daunting a task, both mentally and physically, and there is still part of me that is worried I'll go out too fast and blow up in the latter stages of the race. With all this in mind, m</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">y race strategy, loosely, was as follows:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">1. (and most importantly) Have fun! Smile all day.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">2. Cruise the first half - don't work too hard too early on the climbs, but let go a little on the descents because (a) I love downhill, and (b) I know my legs can take it.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">3. After the turnaround, run as hard as I can, while still saving some energy for the last loooong 7k climb.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">4. Try to go under 6 hours.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggPowhznpFjZgoRcHtbNzMlIy9wLLDJQ8zQ6-QU0Kpn51KqTHJw3Jn9zhG1D201JHC3yQWiwlHH6uguHYVr5yTFKEKuVoKZrFInL0bfeiWxnWChelXvH5oflCfYK9GT8lvSpCccMiZZeE/s1600/IMG_20170430_075741216.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggPowhznpFjZgoRcHtbNzMlIy9wLLDJQ8zQ6-QU0Kpn51KqTHJw3Jn9zhG1D201JHC3yQWiwlHH6uguHYVr5yTFKEKuVoKZrFInL0bfeiWxnWChelXvH5oflCfYK9GT8lvSpCccMiZZeE/s640/IMG_20170430_075741216.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the start.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As usual, a lot of people went out very fast from the start, and I just let them go. A few runners passed me on the 5k climb up to the first aid station, including two women, but I didn't let myself worry about it. I took it easy, slowly and steadily working my way upward, feeling a bit sluggish but reminding myself that it takes me a long time to warm up and starting a race going straight uphill is never going to feel great. I hit the first aid station at the top in about 43 minutes, and ran straight through it into the long, winding downhill that followed. The course was quite muddy, and the clay-rich soil made for some very slippery, messy footing that made uphills even harder than usual, and downhills a fun slip-and-slide. This ~7k descent trail crossed a number of creeks, which varied from just getting toes wet to being over the ankles-deep in water. I resigned myself early on to the fact that my feet were going to be wet all day, and was grateful that I had worn wool socks.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAHVLEPJ1Pub2y5YMBByjZQ_77zTOMBg0DCJHHaa_pnciXHVh1qechKu_432_PTbm3c_ZWiNO1XYL-BnhX2r5cGv-90bY7l_KR8Gk74B62awVKR44b96-qQNQO1qK0WrwlT6gUGnwUylk/s1600/Tillamook+course.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAHVLEPJ1Pub2y5YMBByjZQ_77zTOMBg0DCJHHaa_pnciXHVh1qechKu_432_PTbm3c_ZWiNO1XYL-BnhX2r5cGv-90bY7l_KR8Gk74B62awVKR44b96-qQNQO1qK0WrwlT6gUGnwUylk/s640/Tillamook+course.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of up, lots of down. Repeat.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A note about the course: the <i>entire </i>thing is absolutely gorgeous. A thin ribbon of single track running through a lush forest, huge mossy boulders, eerily beautiful burn sections, creeks, waterfalls...it was really hard not to stop and take pictures. The trail is smooth and flowy, with very little in the way of the rocks or roots that we are used to in Squamish and North Vancouver. The first climb had really spread the field out, and once I started on that descent after the first aid station, I pretty much ran on my own for the next hour or so. I could see a couple guys ahead of me as we snaked through the forest, but we all stayed on more or less the same pace, and I was just enjoying my solo time on the course. Although I was happily trucking along, I didn't really start feeling good until I reached the Storey Burn aid station, about 20k into the race. I wondered, does it really take me this long to warm up now? Something shifted as I ran out of that aid station, with a little banana and coke in me, and I suddenly felt really strong. The next stretch of trail was my favourite part of the course; it rolled along the side of a ridge and was incredibly fun, with stunning views. I passed a few runners en route to the turnaround at 25k, and of course started to see the leaders coming back in the other direction. With every single runner I crossed paths with, I exchanged a quick "nice work!" or "looking strong" - I love this sport. It's like the dirt and forest strips away our differences in ability and makes us all equal in our love of being out there: egos need not apply. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I counted 5 women ahead of me, with the first 4 being significantly ahead and the 5th maybe 10 minutes in front of me. I ran into the turnaround aid station at University Falls with 2h57 elapsed, followed shortly by two other women, and after a quick slug of coke took off down the hill, back toward the start/finish. I knew that I would have to run essentially the same pace on the way back to dip under 6 hours, and hoped that my strategy of not pushing too hard in the first 25k would allow me to stay on pace even as I started to tire (as one inevitably does after 3 hours of running!).</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF_VJ4KurAqn1l3UUloLsOB0ARPM_Vjxjz-496Bg6v_sQ2J70V_tiscgv-kgE0fDcGsUn-MlsfnvX3Kc6fy0wrVdBXwBr-NqO6bQMsp6vHJdCFmtW4ky7NetPLDk-6kAo3vd_Sv62lZqo/s1600/IMG_20170430_144907463_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF_VJ4KurAqn1l3UUloLsOB0ARPM_Vjxjz-496Bg6v_sQ2J70V_tiscgv-kgE0fDcGsUn-MlsfnvX3Kc6fy0wrVdBXwBr-NqO6bQMsp6vHJdCFmtW4ky7NetPLDk-6kAo3vd_Sv62lZqo/s640/IMG_20170430_144907463_HDR.jpg" width="358" /></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's hard to explain how good I was feeling in the second half of the race. I attacked the uphills more aggressively, and pushed hard on the descents, where I knew I could make up the most time. I started passing runners early on, and was passed by no one after the turnaround. As I expected, that last long climb seemed to take forever, but I put my head down and ran as much of it as I could, power hiking the steeper sections and keeping myself motivated by picking off runners ahead of me (of course offering encouragement as I passed them, though ;). I almost hugged the aid station volunteer when I saw her, because I knew that meant that there was only 5 k to go, and it was all downhill. At this point I assumed that I was going to finish in 6th, which I was very happy with, but I soon rounded a corner at top speed and almost barrelled into the 5th place woman. I yelled "great work!" as I ran by, and just kept bounding down the hill, scared to look back to find out she was giving chase. She was a strong runner, and the knowledge that she was behind me motivated me to push hard right until I saw the rustic wooden finish arch. I crossed the line in an awkward little leap of happiness in 5h51, smashing my 6 hour goal and actually running a slight negative split (my second half was just over a minute faster than my first half). I high-fived race director Jeremy, he passed me my Tillamook 50k beer mug, and I collapsed, elated, into Brendan's arms. What a day!</span></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's now 3 days later, and I'm recovering very well, while still riding the runner's high. It was so much fun to do the race as part of a vacation; a much-needed one after an extremely busy 8 months of work. I'm thrilled to know that all that training I did over the winter, despite perhaps not giving me the result I wanted at Chuckanut, culminated in a near perfect race experience for me at Tillamook. Now for some rest and recovery before picking up the training again for my A-race of the year, the Squamish 50k in August. And yes obviously, I will continue to drink pinot noir.</span></div>
taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-72438716499343047062017-03-23T16:56:00.000-07:002017-03-23T17:40:42.896-07:00Chuckanut 50k 2017: From Slow in the Snow to Pain in the Rain<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Back in November, when building my race calendar for this year, I decided that 2017 would be a year to focus on running faster over the 50k distance. I planned 3 races, with Chuckanut 50k being a 'B' race - not my main goal race for the year, but a race at which I wanted to perform well. Being in mid-March, Chuckanut is a great first ultra of the year to test your fitness. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Last year, I found out 2 weeks before Chuckanut that I had been invited off the waiting list into Gorge 100k, so instead of tapering for the race I used the 50k as my last long training run. I had a smooth, easy day on the course and finished in 5:23, placing 22nd overall in a stacked women's field and 1st in the 40-49 age group. I recovered really well from the race, and was back running 3 days later. Leading up to the race, I had really only managed 8 weeks of solid training, due to a nagging hipflexor strain that kept flaring up at the beginning of 2016. Encouraged by that performance considering relatively little training, I wanted to do things differently this year. I planned a 16 week training block, with a nice gradual rise in distance and with tempo runs and hill repeats peppered in after the first month of base training. I was confident that with targeted, consistent training and more of a "race" mindset going into the day, I could knock at least 15 minutes off my 2016 time.</span></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1_7AYlM2CxJm68ZFS0J-5__u6cnn2fqkVatH9h27ewQpsWIqfz4vVStNhWve2T_0HparwDDW_UP7MOeN_9MjWnWjRz_oo69xoCKap74MDUxOmR-3EL3ha8tKF-fu_uq9F0BnOrNUhZA/s1600/17361576_10155078319753618_110850271084291583_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1_7AYlM2CxJm68ZFS0J-5__u6cnn2fqkVatH9h27ewQpsWIqfz4vVStNhWve2T_0HparwDDW_UP7MOeN_9MjWnWjRz_oo69xoCKap74MDUxOmR-3EL3ha8tKF-fu_uq9F0BnOrNUhZA/s320/17361576_10155078319753618_110850271084291583_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These mugs are the best...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Spoiler alert: I didn't come anywhere near that goal. Instead of finishing 15 minutes faster on the course, I finished 17 minutes slower. 5:40, 21st woman, somehow 1st in 40-49 again. And I'm really proud of this: I realized early on in the day that I wasn't going to be able to run the time I was aiming for, so switched from 'race' mode to 'survival' mode pretty quickly. But it is still worth asking the question: What the heck happened?!</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I am still trying to figure that out, to be honest. But there are a bunch of factors that could have contributed to my slower than anticipated race. The obvious one is the winter that we've just had to train through: I wrote about this in my last post, and won't rehash it all here. Suffice it to say that the snow made it incredibly hard to run on the trails, and I ended up only having two long runs not in snow from December until race day: one was a 35k in Bellingham, running the middle portion of the Chuckanut course with friends, and the other was a road 21k that I did the day after struggling through a 3.5 hour trail run in which we only made it 23 k. Because it was taking so long to cover distance on the trails, I ended up doing lots of back-to-back long run weekends (e.g. 3-4 hours Saturday and another 2.5-3 hrs Sunday), which I find generally prepare me well for races. However, I think that repeatedly doing long runs in the snow, where you're having to work much harder than normal to move forward, took a heavier toll on my legs than I realized at the time.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmSg_93QojoAndNwG-JEVE-PzFmuSLpG6-CQjiWHExfHaJeNO9aDQ89EA78QPFsLHMu4Wb-8qgTVcOjIpO9HcP8ZArcX_sp5tpEiYDT8sl_a7Ow2-laX1q773fneYeIYpFustF5jo2Q0s/s1600/RRR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmSg_93QojoAndNwG-JEVE-PzFmuSLpG6-CQjiWHExfHaJeNO9aDQ89EA78QPFsLHMu4Wb-8qgTVcOjIpO9HcP8ZArcX_sp5tpEiYDT8sl_a7Ow2-laX1q773fneYeIYpFustF5jo2Q0s/s320/RRR.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Run Ridge Run 25k. 3:03; 4th female. PC: Chris Thorn</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The other main factor, I think, was a lack of climbing (and descending) in training. Last winter our trails were snow-free, so I was regularly gaining and losing over 1500m on long runs. This winter, we couldn't access any of our usual climbing trails, so my runs had overall much less elevation. The only two runs I had with significant elevation gain and loss this year were that training day on the course, and the Run Ridge Run 25k race, which I did both this year and last, 3 weeks before Chuckanut. I had a really strong run at that race this year, taking 10 minutes off my 2016 time. At the time it gave me a great confidence boost for Chuckanut - but it's possible that running hard in that race took more out of me than I thought, and the effort combined with the sudden return to elevation was a recipe for my legs to rebel.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The week before Chuckanut, my right knee was incredibly achy and sore, so much so that I couldn't sleep well at night. I tried to chalk this up to the usual mysterious taper pains, but I can't pretend I wasn't worried about it. In the race, it very quickly (in the first 10k) became clear that something was mechanically wrong with my whole right leg; I was having different pains for every different type of running (Hip pain on the flat. Behind the knee pain on the rolling sections. Calf pain on the climbs. Quad pain on the descents). This is not normal! It was really bizarre, and I think maybe it was just some manifestation of lots of damage built up over the winter of training. I was staying on top of my hydration (though I probably could have drunk more); I was consuming electrolytes, and plenty of food. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDSFi03ER-T-tbfrfpnrd3qba0fdnBrdU-S7kXYLCSt49gg474JrhEMOn7t6G32R5KYcnHUtgXIGMKtCWfM5QLjRzlzYieoaPQQDYwDQ7BE-cRumjrKhBbIgsAqi1sIO7mmFbfHTcykMk/s1600/chinscaper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDSFi03ER-T-tbfrfpnrd3qba0fdnBrdU-S7kXYLCSt49gg474JrhEMOn7t6G32R5KYcnHUtgXIGMKtCWfM5QLjRzlzYieoaPQQDYwDQ7BE-cRumjrKhBbIgsAqi1sIO7mmFbfHTcykMk/s320/chinscaper.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chuckanut 50k. Still smiling! PC: Glenn Tachiyama</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">By the time I reached the Cleator Rd climb, only 20k into the race, I had thrown my time goal out the window and resolved to just run as hard as I could given how I was feeling. I managed a PB on that 5k steady road climb, and also on the Chuckanut Ridge trail, which is my favourite part of the course. I think after the ridge is where I started losing the most time - I felt like I was pushing, but my legs just couldn't move quickly. The course was also extremely muddy and wet, but I can't see that playing a huge role in slowing me down (especially since I was used to running in so much snow!). </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The stretch from the top of Chinscraper, down Cleator Rd and Fragrance Lake Rd, was agonizing for my quads - and I usually love downhill! At this point, I realized that my left quad was now really sore, which I knew meant I had been compensating for my right leg issues by carrying more weight on my left side. Somehow, through all of this, I was still having a great time - despite the current pain, I was fairly certain I wasn't doing any lasting damage, and kept reminding myself how much I love running, no matter what the race outcome is. Sometimes the mental toughness we can gain from this sport amazes me! The last 10k of the race is back along the Interurban trail, and I had mentally prepared myself for how hard this feels - but I still slogged my way through it at a snail's pace, and it seemed to take an eternity. My watch had lost GPS signal at about 46k, and out of desperation a little while later I asked a couple that I passed how long they thought it was to the finish...and they said "3 miles"! I thought I was going to die, haha. In the end, it was more like 2k, and I dragged myself across the finish line in great relief.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkL2si4QKGhBNsZZYvcMr14arQ7oBz14Wv_Az09js_LJX9y-9v0E8yVepkyDeGArRambQqjHcx6UGRi7drqOJ63ubFW5l1lwZ-Ub3qoTiZ97ij7lyfBXfIOZmXNU8vGKzNUdtKK5hHdFo/s1600/douglas-adams-quotes-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkL2si4QKGhBNsZZYvcMr14arQ7oBz14Wv_Az09js_LJX9y-9v0E8yVepkyDeGArRambQqjHcx6UGRi7drqOJ63ubFW5l1lwZ-Ub3qoTiZ97ij7lyfBXfIOZmXNU8vGKzNUdtKK5hHdFo/s320/douglas-adams-quotes-4.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's now 5 days later, and my legs are just starting to feel better. I have a miserable head cold, which I think may have been lurking on race day and a contributing factor to my general feeling of malaise. The leg situation is still a mystery, but I'm hoping that my physio can get to the bottom of what happened there. So, where does this leave me, you might ask, in my year of "faster 50ks"? Well, in a pretty good place, I'd say. I've already had 16 weeks of consistent training, and now have a 50k long run under my belt. I'm taking some down time now, which obviously my body needed. Once I feel healthy again, I'll slowly start ramping my running back up, and will be able to build on all that hard work I did over the winter. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And through it all, I still love doing this, and am hungry for more. What more can you ask for, really? Oh, and yes I'll be coming back to Chuckanut in 2018. I still have a little score to settle with that course ;)</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-22857558986606551182017-02-09T21:19:00.001-08:002017-02-10T10:34:25.574-08:00Training in (real) Winter: Stumbling into Gratitude<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZileYvNuVcFFa3eUlB0JUepYkxTvpsl2ZQJ4QJR-etoW9FrSZic59bd8DkdxjsnXZM7gzyxdLR_vVG3RhlQC3bJ08hYPyLAma9cS3sE2aIyeDoaPxXdY6J4bxIO7pbw3HgwM6l3QPz9U/s1600/IMG_20151126_122520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZileYvNuVcFFa3eUlB0JUepYkxTvpsl2ZQJ4QJR-etoW9FrSZic59bd8DkdxjsnXZM7gzyxdLR_vVG3RhlQC3bJ08hYPyLAma9cS3sE2aIyeDoaPxXdY6J4bxIO7pbw3HgwM6l3QPz9U/s320/IMG_20151126_122520.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Hypothermic Half Marathon, Montreal 2007</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Let me start with this: I'm from Quebec. I am plenty used to training for spring races through brutally cold winters. I've raced a half marathon when it was -30 degrees C outside. I suffered frostbitten fingers after a long run because a truck splashed me from head to toe with frigid slush and my hands got soaked when I tried to wipe the slush off my jacket. I've seen my running partners' balaclavas (yes, we had to wear balaclavas) completely frosted over in white. Having hot showers after runs sometimes felt like being stabbed with thousands of tiny needles. I once ended up in a freezing rain storm so horrendous that I was trying to run with my eyes closed and seriously considered lying in a ditch on the side of the road until it blew over. I used to say my favourite temperature for winter running was -15: cold enough so that the snow on the roads was packed down solid. So believe me when I say, I am not just a fair weather runner. </span></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: justify;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeNQgDU8iTNqYw71yKdzvsl3Ko3vWZpGG-jbio3wVW_HH7frDtlrR1Zy7Swta0XJYwVv5IgIsWEEBogdRsWZRQfA-d14HEmTcaebGKXaa-YDUD0388KpQ7W9PMdiKSQpNNGM8HGKm53Lc/s1600/15826750_10154838065223618_362571082633308026_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeNQgDU8iTNqYw71yKdzvsl3Ko3vWZpGG-jbio3wVW_HH7frDtlrR1Zy7Swta0XJYwVv5IgIsWEEBogdRsWZRQfA-d14HEmTcaebGKXaa-YDUD0388KpQ7W9PMdiKSQpNNGM8HGKm53Lc/s400/15826750_10154838065223618_362571082633308026_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic: Hilary Matheson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But this winter - this oddly snowy, crazy La Nina-fuelled BC winter, has been the hardest one I've ever had to train in. Why? For one, I'm frankly not used to it anymore. Winter here in Squamish, in my experience, is usually about a month of pretty snow with a return to shorts-clad running on dirt by the end of January. Secondly, I'm not running road races anymore. When you're training for a road marathon, you run on roads, for the most part. And even when the weather is awful, most days you can still run on roads <i>fairly</i> normally (with some exceptions, of course); you just need to bundle up, watch your footing, and be prepared to run a little slower than you're used to running. When you're training for a trail ultra marathon (as I currently am - Chuckanut 50k, which is on March 18th), you mostly run on trails - at least, ideally. Specificity in training, and all of that. And this is where things get interesting. Most of my usual trails are not runnable right now (due to being buried in snow), and the ones that are "runnable" are still slip-sliding, post-holing, crusty snow ankle-grabbing, hidden icy patch obstacle courses. Instead of complaining, though ... ok , I've complained a tiny bit, but only after these last 2 massive snowfalls that came right as the original massive snowfall was starting to melt ... I'm going to offer a list of tips for us to all get through this while trying to still get a solid training block in and maybe, just maybe, realize that this winter is exactly what we needed:</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b style="color: #444444; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">1. Be prepared to give up on distance and just go for time on feet </b><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(this is my wordiest tip, mostly because I am terrible at taking my own advice here):</span></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihKilM4ymPoy79Xk65tQr4hULoeaPJjcHWb7vvl6-un8fxNm0f_vTDmkr8iRy05ONhoLqQCOLQ02OYACQGDQVh93279ewabHQ_O-JYNbM5Ox8p2gmqDhPVye0Nu7V0PJxLSnxTdBRYIaI/s1600/Screen+shot+2017-02-09+at+6.58.35+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="93" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihKilM4ymPoy79Xk65tQr4hULoeaPJjcHWb7vvl6-un8fxNm0f_vTDmkr8iRy05ONhoLqQCOLQ02OYACQGDQVh93279ewabHQ_O-JYNbM5Ox8p2gmqDhPVye0Nu7V0PJxLSnxTdBRYIaI/s400/Screen+shot+2017-02-09+at+6.58.35+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: start;">Note that while my moving time on this run was 3:46, my elapsed time was </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; text-align: start;">4:41!</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: start;"> </span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is easier said than done if you are a numbers person and have even a moderately Type A personality, as a lot of runners do (myself included). Going by time on feet makes a lot of sense in ultra running, especially if you are running in mountainous terrain where it can take inordinate amounts of time to cover very short distances. But on the trails I train on most frequently in Squamish, which are certainly hilly but all mostly runnable, my preference is still to map out runs - especially long runs - by distance. Usually I can route a run by distance easily, and know the approximate time it will take me to run it. This has not been the case this winter. I'm still clinging to my distances by my fingernails, but it has not been easy and I have had to relax my goals on a number of occasions. Here's a perfect example of a day last month when I <i>should</i> have given up on distance, but didn't. I'll offer a 'running' commentary of the thoughts going through my head on this 30k solo adventure:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWxdIEPkI1X6dv_pSSgPbg6wUguodvwvVbsbU8eZy3YfbXsICuRowCqP1Ac-1h4-PdvheA4dGtL0EgsF3p3BAmR3eG_pC3EyJ8K6nHYK7L3ql0a5egvYGD4L9bOv8AE6VDFT9sKkTvc50/s1600/snowy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWxdIEPkI1X6dv_pSSgPbg6wUguodvwvVbsbU8eZy3YfbXsICuRowCqP1Ac-1h4-PdvheA4dGtL0EgsF3p3BAmR3eG_pC3EyJ8K6nHYK7L3ql0a5egvYGD4L9bOv8AE6VDFT9sKkTvc50/s320/snowy.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Such...deep...snow...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I know, I'll route one big loop. A good chunk of it is on a logging road, which should definitely be cleared. I'll just run a few trails to get there, which should be ok since they are under lots of tree cover. Ok, well these trails are knee-deep snow. But that's alright, they're short and steep anyway, I'll just push through it. Once I'm on the road, it will be great!... And yes, it is great! Perfect tire tracks to run in. The mountains are beautiful. I love this. Logging roads have great views. Maybe I'll just take this connector trail instead of running the whole way on the road...oh, well ok now I'm plowing through thigh-deep snow. Oh god, it just took me half an hour to cover like 2 k. And the hose of my hydration bladder is now frozen solid. But I'm almost back to the road; then it will be all smooth sailing. Ohhh...where did my tire tracks go? Why is the road now shin-deep crusty snow that cuts my ankles every time I punch through it? Maybe I should invest in gaiters. Maybe I'll just wait here for someone to find me...but no, I must keep going. Holy eff, this road is so much longer than I remember it being! When I finally get to a runnable trail, I might cry</i> [I literally almost cried]. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Back to the tip: don't do what I did on this run. Some days, you just need to throw your distance goals out the window. </span></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>2. Use particularly miserable days to do workouts.</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWZp793blMysKEyIIkSA2BYYxPacfi501v_JREHz4E5ArE0Lzcvmbk050IgkxyOSzQo4OTi7sGguwEXBV5twqkQvzoK7HSgEqGIqAOqFflOI8blIcT1jg0FjeOMbYSLYGbAfBBRuJEeE4/s1600/IMG_20170117_113735.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWZp793blMysKEyIIkSA2BYYxPacfi501v_JREHz4E5ArE0Lzcvmbk050IgkxyOSzQo4OTi7sGguwEXBV5twqkQvzoK7HSgEqGIqAOqFflOI8blIcT1jg0FjeOMbYSLYGbAfBBRuJEeE4/s320/IMG_20170117_113735.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hill repeats in freezing rain. See Footnote for my gear of choice.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Case in point: hill repeats. Every time I've done them this winter, it has been either pouring rain or essentially a blizzard. One day I put my microspikes on my shoes and did them on an incline of sheer ice. Let's face it, hill repeats are never going to be fun anyway, so you might as well do them on days when you just want a 'good bang for your buck' run. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>3. Laugh. Remind yourself that trail running is really just playing outside.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2jvDVRDlF58ow_jzTBiWQT22FrKwCwQFPn_Ce4Lw2TwJaFmrtET_UBE0xcM-1UaVQv7VeVHOWRqhIBMkHorogYy9eW94UU6F_OzqNl6Ytj-bOIQ2hikhrtLhyphenhyphen92hhcJyxkOBrDDqBA5E/s1600/IMG_20170109_082158.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2jvDVRDlF58ow_jzTBiWQT22FrKwCwQFPn_Ce4Lw2TwJaFmrtET_UBE0xcM-1UaVQv7VeVHOWRqhIBMkHorogYy9eW94UU6F_OzqNl6Ytj-bOIQ2hikhrtLhyphenhyphen92hhcJyxkOBrDDqBA5E/s320/IMG_20170109_082158.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic: Starr McLachlan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Running in snow is pretty hilarious. It's insanely hard, and in these conditions even the most coordinated runner with the best form can look like a drunk person toddling through the snow. Running on trails in winter is the closest I get to re-creating that feeling of playing outside as a kid, and that's pretty special. Once you stop thinking about it as work, your whole perspective shifts and it's nearly impossible not to laugh at yourself.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>4. Get out there with friends.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAN8NGw6w6ZWJ1Nqwue-Si42Xznn1-y-rbjhaWMQk2YiCdCz_tOqFdaJGIDjnMy633o2YdQcXXB0Lx4GA8jtePu3m-lpx0iT_VXK-9aRU58q1cbaqczWMVMvBoJE3vzMx9ZQQmUmf063c/s1600/IMG_20161214_125010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAN8NGw6w6ZWJ1Nqwue-Si42Xznn1-y-rbjhaWMQk2YiCdCz_tOqFdaJGIDjnMy633o2YdQcXXB0Lx4GA8jtePu3m-lpx0iT_VXK-9aRU58q1cbaqczWMVMvBoJE3vzMx9ZQQmUmf063c/s320/IMG_20161214_125010.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There are a few reasons why this is a good idea. First of all, making plans with someone gets your butt out the door when your every instinct is to curl back up in bed with a cup of coffee. Second, I defy you to not have a good time once you are out there. Yes, the running will be ridiculous at times, especially when you find yourselves breaking trail or trying to cross a bridge with so much snow on it that you can't see where the bridge actually is under your feet. On the run pictured above, it was something like -14 and we were running loops of the only well-packed trail in town to get our long run in. But sharing these experiences with friends is priceless, and will give you war stories to relive for many sunny months to come. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>5. Practice gratitude.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgitBFMKrAGn_mpWpcqjhXkDyyHGVMbszct-fuvgiBmYgSzolllQsl5y-LAhreoC0mJk1bs0MWp7N0YYIoZMSTFQM3ghPDx-8MrELv2_MCrJW9-MmecP5cGO-lD1RXD2aXrHXIo3UUx6ZI/s1600/IMG_1458+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgitBFMKrAGn_mpWpcqjhXkDyyHGVMbszct-fuvgiBmYgSzolllQsl5y-LAhreoC0mJk1bs0MWp7N0YYIoZMSTFQM3ghPDx-8MrELv2_MCrJW9-MmecP5cGO-lD1RXD2aXrHXIo3UUx6ZI/s400/IMG_1458+%25281%2529.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic: Starr McLachlan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;">So your training is maybe not going quite the way you wanted: your runs have been more stumbly (mis)adventures than smooth tempo runs, and your mileage is nowhere near where you wanted it to be. You've also been granted the good fortune of:</span></div>
<div>
<ul>
<ul>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Working out those stabilizing muscles! They're important for trail running, right?</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Wearing all those cute toques that you rarely get to run in.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Practicing for technical trail conditions by finding good lines down icy, chunky snow-filled trails.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Slowing things down for a change.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Spending hours (and hours) in nature, both solo and with friends.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Being able to escape the insanity of current world events into a much simpler, happier place.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Running in an absolute winter wonderland.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Having that feeling that if you can get through this, you can get through anything.</span></li>
</ul>
</ul>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And there you have it. I have no idea how my race is going to go in 5 weeks, but I have to believe that training in these conditions, while not ideal, is making me stronger. And most importantly, despite having been running in snow for the last 10 weeks or so, on reflection I've had one of the most fun winters of training ever. Grateful for the blessing of doing "hard work" in the snow, in beautiful forests, with friends? You bet I am. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Footnote: My must-have gear for running trails in winter*:</span><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Traction devices for shoes. I use Kahtoola MICROspikes and love them - they let me run up and down icy hills with no fear of slipping.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A running vest. This is a must for long runs, to carry water and snacks as well as to have the space to bring/shed extra layers and spikes as needed. I usually use a hydration bladder, although the hose will freeze when it gets cold enough - this can be resolved by taking really frequent sips of water (which is probably a good idea anyway). My favourite vest for everyday runs is the UltrAspire Alpha - it is a nice snug fit with just enough room to carry what you need. If I need to carry more gear, I use the Ultimate Direction Jenny Adventure Vesta.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Merino wool tops. I almost never run in synthetic material in the winter anymore; wool keeps me so much warmer because it dries so quickly.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Smartwool socks. I use PhD ones, and they are actually for hiking, but they fit me perfectly for running and I've never once had a blister or any chaffing, even after 100k. I pretty much wear these year-round actually, because my feet get wet so often. </span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A Gore-tex (or similar) jacket. I use the Arcteryx Norvan, and it is essentially bullet-proof when it comes to cold rain/snow and wind. The hood fits snugly as well, for those really miserable days when you want to hide inside something while outside.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">One pair of really warm tights. For those days below -10, I have a 9-year-old pair of Sugoi tights with a very thin fleece lining - they are still going strong and my legs have never once been too cold in them.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mittens (or, in a pinch, socks for hands). Unless it's a balmy day, gloves don't keep my fingers warm enough - probably because of the frostbite I got on them all those years ago. I just wear whatever ones I can find, nothing fancy. If anyone has amazing running mitten recommendations, I'd love to hear them!</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A selection of toques. Because, I just love a good toque.</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">*If running in the mountains, I'd have much more gear than this! This is just my everyday running stuff.</span></div>
</div>
taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-80022973825580467212016-12-27T13:18:00.001-08:002017-06-02T10:34:49.956-07:002016 in Review: Life, the Universe, and Everything<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">2016. Much has been written about how this year has been a rough one, in so many ways for so many people. I too have had a year full of turmoil - though, I admit that as I get older I increasingly wonder if life really <i>is</i> just turmoil, and the secret is just to figure out how to find happiness and peace in the midst of all the challenges we inevitably face. I turned 42 this year - which, incidentally, is the "Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything" (if you're a Douglas Adams fan). 42 is also the critical angle at which sunlight refracts when hitting raindrops in order for a rainbow to form, and it is the number of kilometres run in a marathon. So all things considered, I guess I can expect the next year to be a good one - full of rainbows, cosmic answers, and (ultra)marathons. No pressure, 2017.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijhNyH1KtdIUx2pCQT76cUUFM7a__6uF0SmIqBBqEaT19TudsOlBZDv7An-44T9Wz4QczQ1qTHqlgOwCrZYB1yKXUX4pTC3YA4imAvU-3FDa93Rl7jA7YefS5D89Rvpd7utrfErF2Aw7Q/s1600/teamu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijhNyH1KtdIUx2pCQT76cUUFM7a__6uF0SmIqBBqEaT19TudsOlBZDv7An-44T9Wz4QczQ1qTHqlgOwCrZYB1yKXUX4pTC3YA4imAvU-3FDa93Rl7jA7YefS5D89Rvpd7utrfErF2Aw7Q/s640/teamu.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why the Gorge 100k experience was so great.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But back to this year. My running started out with a bang, racing the Chuckanut 50k in March and Gorge Waterfalls 100k in April (my longest run to date). Unexpectedly entering the 100k race off the wait list a month before the event meant that I had not trained for that distance and, combined with running it 2 weeks after the 50k, resulted in a nagging hip flexor strain turning into a full-blown injury. I had an amazing experience during that race and would not change my decision to run it, but it did come with the consequence of losing about 3 months of running while I rehabbed the injury. Luckily, despite not being able to run, I was able to hike, so I was spared going completely crazy by still getting onto the local trails most days.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Just as I was starting to inch my way back into running regularly in July, with my sights set on the Squamish 50k race in August, we received the news that my dad was terminally ill. I have written about this already, and will not rehash the experience here. Suffice it to say that the summer was a terribly difficult period, and yet also full of cherished time spent with my family. If there is any silver lining about all of this, it is that I was able to run through this time. If my dad's diagnosis and the subsequent months had coincided with when I was injured, I would have been without my foremost coping mechanism and know I would have felt more at sea than I already did. I ran home from the hospital almost every day while my dad was there, and took to the mountains for long exploratory runs when he left us. For months afterward, the only time I really felt like myself was when I was out running, the longer run the better - as always, it helped me to heal from the inside-out. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYen3pf-LqAcy1LBYPGy2OM7TD37qqzSYL0iD-W7dOcruSkCpnC3a0D_VRtYPVEmoD-aDOTJtB7e-rn_kTTY7tWh4oVFOjJHimprnpFDltUgp_DtckipK0M-TD2LQGcfg3Y6pKZonDAa8/s1600/WAM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="387" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYen3pf-LqAcy1LBYPGy2OM7TD37qqzSYL0iD-W7dOcruSkCpnC3a0D_VRtYPVEmoD-aDOTJtB7e-rn_kTTY7tWh4oVFOjJHimprnpFDltUgp_DtckipK0M-TD2LQGcfg3Y6pKZonDAa8/s640/WAM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whistler Alpine Meadows race. Photo courtesy of Brian McCurdy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Having missed my goal race for the summer, I registered instead for the </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Whistler Alpine Meadows 50k, an extremely difficult and beautifully rugged race that gains 3350m of elevation. Leading up to that race, I ran the Salomon Valley to Peak 23k as a training run, pushing myself extremely far outside of my comfort zone (read: rolling trails and down hill) to "race" up to the peak of Whistler mountain from the village. I was satisfied with a 12th place finish, especially after having missed so much training over the summer. 3 weeks after Valley to Peak in September and 5 weeks after my dad passed, I took on Whistler Alpine Meadows as my first ultra since running the 100k at the beginning of April. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The race was everything I needed and wanted it to be, and in the last 2 hours I spent a large chunk of time running completely by myself through the stunning ... well, alpine meadows of Whistler. I talked out loud to my dad quite a bit, and cried a little, and felt incredibly light, happy, and peaceful despite having already run for over 6 hours. I crossed the line of that race as the 5th place female, which was my best result of this season full of literal and figurative ups and downs.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The fall was chock full of fun running adventures with my girlfriends and Brendan, including running </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">40k to Opal Cone in Garibaldi Provincial Park (with Brendan on his bike for part of it), </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">68k around Mount Hood in Oregon, and squeezing in a traverse of the local favourite 29k Howe Sound Crest Trail on Thanksgiving weekend. We ran in costumes to Elfin Lakes on Halloween, and had my birthday party on a 3.5 hour trail run, also in costumes and fuelled by donuts and beer gels. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As a side effect of being injured through the spring and early summer, this fall has been more about ramping my running back up than winding it down as I normally would be doing at the end of the year. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Despite the forced down time, I am closing 2016 having run over 2000 km and climbed over 60,000 m of elevation, and have had the opportunity to explore many beautiful places that I had never seen - and as Kilian Jornet puts it, use running as a vehicle to "discover landscapes both inside and outside".</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGyaGQzLqvlcqyji49nvb8xY6CyOFMSo_2tn9kkqyV4Vi-v9d6CLbOgyvTtVZkxJ23YNQl2tLP1BwDBaXD0ZI4MwbzFg7XExGd7FbLLVcWVwgBx7bzOxL1TgBUIpw_nZPerAlcPXGhT1Y/s1600/collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGyaGQzLqvlcqyji49nvb8xY6CyOFMSo_2tn9kkqyV4Vi-v9d6CLbOgyvTtVZkxJ23YNQl2tLP1BwDBaXD0ZI4MwbzFg7XExGd7FbLLVcWVwgBx7bzOxL1TgBUIpw_nZPerAlcPXGhT1Y/s400/collage.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fall Running Shenanigans</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My experiences in 2016 have helped shape my running goals for next year. To try to avoid the somewhat haphazard nature of my running from this year, I'm heading into 2017 with only 2 goal races: Chuckanut 50k again in March, and Squamish 50k in August. I'll do a few other shorter races in between, but want to focus on running faster over the 50k distance rather than running farther. There are definitely some longer races in my future, including a 100k that I actually train for (the novelty!) and a 100 miler eventually, but I am in no real hurry to get there. There are already a number of running adventures in the works for next year as well, which are my favourite (though admittedly unusual) girls' weekends with friends who also happen to think that running all day through the mountains is a fun way to spend their time.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's amazing how important running continues to be for me, and how my relationship to it is constantly evolving: at different times in my life, I have needed it for different reasons. Every year of running brings new experiences and prompts unique reflections; </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">but </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">the common thread is that it grounds me and gives me clarity, both in happy and sad times. I am looking forward to discovering what 2017 (the year of 42) has in store.</span></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFoNsqVuAHWfG_sm3wJWVfLNFsauFRarXzYjmwFAaqgOJ2kPJSqwyx5QLJYr_jW6fSCe05XSdpXhzRSSHQDzrpm2eL7hbzndsTw8zKusD1JmM91goSC5Swj2-Lyg-1iosglPX2vbekv2M/s1600/tara.trails_full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFoNsqVuAHWfG_sm3wJWVfLNFsauFRarXzYjmwFAaqgOJ2kPJSqwyx5QLJYr_jW6fSCe05XSdpXhzRSSHQDzrpm2eL7hbzndsTw8zKusD1JmM91goSC5Swj2-Lyg-1iosglPX2vbekv2M/s640/tara.trails_full.jpg" width="569" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.8px;">I like this year's collage because almost all of my favourite running friends are pictured :)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-91098315638449244802016-10-04T18:22:00.000-07:002016-10-05T12:34:26.624-07:00Wy'east Wandering: Circumnavigation of Mount Hood<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Last fall, three girlfriends and I ran around<a href="http://in-thelongrun.blogspot.ca/2015/10/lady-of-fire-circumnavigation-of-mount.html" target="_blank"> Mount St Helens</a> on the Loowit trail - and had such an incredible experience that we promptly decided to make a volcano run an annual trip. This year's adventure took us a bit farther south in the Cascade chain of stratovolcanoes, to Mount Hood in Oregon. The route around Mount Hood follows the Timberline trail, a 40-mile (65.5k) long Forest Service trail that gains a total of 9,000 ft (2700 m) as it winds around the flanks of the mountain, through alpine meadows, across ridges, and falling and rising in and out of glacial river valleys. We researched the route beforehand and found that most people travel in a clockwise direction from Timberline Lodge - this was also the route that Tara and Alicia had done last year. Based on that experience, however, Tara suggested that this year we travel counterclockwise, in order to cover the most difficult and highest terrain earlier on in the day. This turned out to be a very wise decision (more on this shortly), and I would certainly recommend this to anyone setting out later in the season as we did.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYo6JMbnjggAiAe5AetiWz4hwVLKhkH-oQW_fr00XdsqOMe8UQ-LBjsS7nBb2CtEh0djYYgo5COgx-DuivsFXKN2ZjOSW6PKG5eEC4sfcBnICIaz5luoezmwMLPg25foVeGNK0g5xlobM/s1600/14522328_10101901213983941_70604765_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYo6JMbnjggAiAe5AetiWz4hwVLKhkH-oQW_fr00XdsqOMe8UQ-LBjsS7nBb2CtEh0djYYgo5COgx-DuivsFXKN2ZjOSW6PKG5eEC4sfcBnICIaz5luoezmwMLPg25foVeGNK0g5xlobM/s640/14522328_10101901213983941_70604765_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Winter, is that you? Gnarl Ridge (yes, that's really what it's called). Photo: Tara Berry</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #444444;">Our day started at 7 am from the lodge, which is situated at 4700ft (1400m) - it was snowing lightly and, based on a fickle forecast, we knew we were in for a potentially cold/snowy/rainy day. We carried the ten essentials with us, which included tons of clothing layers (including puffy jackets and Goretex shells, spare socks, gloves, and toques or buffs), basic first aid supplies, lots of calories in various forms and 2L of water apiece, a water filter and purifying tablets, matches, whistles, headlamps and emergency bivy sacks, a hard copy trail map as well as a GPS route programmed into RunGo on two separate phones, and a Spot tracker so that friends could follow our progress and know where we were located at all times. Yes, our packs were stuffed, and quite heavy - but Timberline is a wilderness route not to be taken lightly, and we felt confident that we were well prepared for the journey. </span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizdutHvr-ipi1bxvhwWC3Xmz5YoaSfpih6mAAogxQGLi4BFaYoXeQMsXYnQuZzhfMsp-sw1SXbJ4KhnN5NiJYIKQUuTuCYpKTF3Nctef6l8_sXx7QglSOkM_t88QDCjMr692jVTuurF1o/s1600/goldhomehphoodtopo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizdutHvr-ipi1bxvhwWC3Xmz5YoaSfpih6mAAogxQGLi4BFaYoXeQMsXYnQuZzhfMsp-sw1SXbJ4KhnN5NiJYIKQUuTuCYpKTF3Nctef6l8_sXx7QglSOkM_t88QDCjMr692jVTuurF1o/s640/goldhomehphoodtopo.jpg" width="598" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A long journey: Our objective for the day. Timberline Lodge is on the south side of Mount Hood.<br />
Source: turns-all-year.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I wasn't sure how my body would feel after having just run a hard mountain 54k race the week before, but as we started running my legs felt great and my mind was excited for a day of adventuring with friends. Setting out to the east from the lodge, we started across barren pumice slopes and then dropped down into a small canyon before eventually running along Boy Scout ridge with a view of White River Canyon. The early running was quite cruisy, on smooth trail through alpine scrub with periodic views of gorgeous waterfalls. On a clear day the panorama from the ridge would have been incredible, but the scenery in our immediate environment was so beautiful that we weren't missing the sweeping views. A good lesson in appreciating what you have, in the moment! </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin1C3FvfPgNsUJnE1SsrulucUr9GKfRQpwbK_wT01NrVKX0uGf8oiQ_okA0W3oErhIRYnvj18k0MmcYFVMfAjWkhdhi3if4PoJHBVtHDr1NbmH5pfICu-RQOhRW652x4zGtYYb4cFuoF4/s1600/IMG_20161001_073143836.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin1C3FvfPgNsUJnE1SsrulucUr9GKfRQpwbK_wT01NrVKX0uGf8oiQ_okA0W3oErhIRYnvj18k0MmcYFVMfAjWkhdhi3if4PoJHBVtHDr1NbmH5pfICu-RQOhRW652x4zGtYYb4cFuoF4/s640/IMG_20161001_073143836.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Setting out from Timberline Lodge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Timberline switchbacks down to the White River, which was our first major glacial river crossing of the day. Chloe is skilled at picking good routes across streams as well as finding the best footing to do so, and we quickly fell into a fairly smooth routine of her guiding the rest of us across each crossing. The only issues we had with crossings all day was difficulty finding the trail once we were on the other side; trails were marked with cairns, but often there were cairns leading to campsites as well, instead of back to the Timberline trail. </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix4VEfRpgDobwK2RMJltowjJLC68zgTnWsgV3VWNf5hf_Hb0DG90H3jlCEuysAtHsPT_0G6_0r_u9vOTs9z6zDFaw-lfK_fhFcz_Xbwj9pqFscB9eqr67oKv8WrYKD2piRUY14vSsboM8/s1600/IMG_20161001_074302857.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix4VEfRpgDobwK2RMJltowjJLC68zgTnWsgV3VWNf5hf_Hb0DG90H3jlCEuysAtHsPT_0G6_0r_u9vOTs9z6zDFaw-lfK_fhFcz_Xbwj9pqFscB9eqr67oKv8WrYKD2piRUY14vSsboM8/s640/IMG_20161001_074302857.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing the White River</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Once we located the trail, we were treated to a long, steep climb on forested switchbacks to reach Mount Hood Meadows, bursting with beautiful alpine fall colours. The sun even made a brief appearance, and spirits were high as we made our way through the meadows and down and up several more river valleys, including Clark and Newton creeks, fed by the Newton Clark glacier. OregonHikers.org refers to these creeks as "a silly torrent" and "the most unruly of Hood's glacial streams", respectively, but we made the crossings without incident. As we climbed our way out of Newton Creek Canyon about 4 hours into our run, we were heading toward its northern rim, which was to be the highest point of our day on Gnarl Ridge. </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirq9VO62glC9njYJfgc33fjSCQJHr1Nv1tU-rg1HKnoZVpJTZGHD8Y5-j5wBqDJ9k4wFUWw1MfRn-Us0qUPRl9r_3c_q2BgMc4bzQOkMjyCcSvO3_cFZOlJyo9wBfFrVZom9yyXXpxtXQ/s1600/IMG_20161001_084555552_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirq9VO62glC9njYJfgc33fjSCQJHr1Nv1tU-rg1HKnoZVpJTZGHD8Y5-j5wBqDJ9k4wFUWw1MfRn-Us0qUPRl9r_3c_q2BgMc4bzQOkMjyCcSvO3_cFZOlJyo9wBfFrVZom9yyXXpxtXQ/s640/IMG_20161001_084555552_HDR.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emily making her way through Mount Hood Meadows</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Gnarl ridge is named for the twisted, ancient whitebark pines that grow in this harsh, exposed environment - but on our journey, the name was also quite appropriate to the conditions we experienced there. Being the highest elevation (about 6800 ft/2000m) that Timberline travels through, and very exposed, as soon as we crested the ridge we were greeted with swirling, pelting snow pellets and high winds that actually blew me off my course with each step. We pushed our way toward a tiny copse of trees and were amazingly sheltered behind them (thanks, gnarly pines!), and quickly stopped to put on extra layers - at this point I was wearing pretty much everything I had brought, including a long sleeved Merino wool shirt, a puffy jacket, a shell, and my toque and gloves. We discussed our concern that if these conditions persisted, it may not be safe to continue and we should probably turn around, but Tara knew that this was where we were topping out and that we would soon be descending the other side of the ridge, so we decided to keep moving forward and take stock a little further on. Sure enough, once we were on the other side of the ridge we slowly moved out of the snow and wind, and never saw those conditions again for the rest of the day. This cemented in our minds that our counter-clockwise route was the best decision, at least on that day - navigating that terrain near the end of our run when we were exhausted and wet would have been quite dangerous.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmtJwwnodaVtN4LY9X976sVfmkjCqyY2cMK-BKsAjUo8W3QCtKX0zB7MF9wEGIh2NNZ3EWKw_9g8LrXADWuS6pZ1FcUS3rzSgn4f1rXPDIvtS8LSi_8SVCsVI8f60-ftc8wOnAp4hBH0E/s1600/14550576_10101901213904101_1397176695_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmtJwwnodaVtN4LY9X976sVfmkjCqyY2cMK-BKsAjUo8W3QCtKX0zB7MF9wEGIh2NNZ3EWKw_9g8LrXADWuS6pZ1FcUS3rzSgn4f1rXPDIvtS8LSi_8SVCsVI8f60-ftc8wOnAp4hBH0E/s640/14550576_10101901213904101_1397176695_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All the layers, and a gnarled Whitebark Pine. Photo: Tara Berry</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Running down from the ridge took us through a forest before reaching a loose, rocky section that gives way into an expansive boulder field with a couple short snow traverses. Timberline here travels high on the shoulder of Cooper Spur, and we cruised our way down this section, now sheltered from the wind and losing elevation as we approached the Cloud Cap campground. A rainbow appeared in the distance, as if to reassure us that everything was going to be ok, and we ended up chasing this rainbow around the mountain for the next several hours. We crested Ghost Ridge, and started picking our way down a trail toward the Eliot glacier basin crossing. </span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVHDXqcV1WBg7TL6fjHV9yAz1pddTtXkQaOhxgUdr-5n8nGFHXVmSZMFgiS8fXy41-4T74wY38in4GgTEZCPqp1aq8ngZuf03Fk5CqIotnumE15u6WUg42BG784iHXWZ-SiWXc2VFtDZA/s1600/IMG_20161001_114821680_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVHDXqcV1WBg7TL6fjHV9yAz1pddTtXkQaOhxgUdr-5n8nGFHXVmSZMFgiS8fXy41-4T74wY38in4GgTEZCPqp1aq8ngZuf03Fk5CqIotnumE15u6WUg42BG784iHXWZ-SiWXc2VFtDZA/s640/IMG_20161001_114821680_HDR.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ghost Ridge, overlooking Eliot basin. There's a glacier somewhere in that fog.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Everything that we had read before the run had warned us about how difficult this crossing would be, due to a 2006 debris flow that had washed out the trail and left steep canyon walls full of loose rock. It sounds like the trail that we followed had just recently been completed as a detour from the original washed out route, and we had no problems at all with the crossing. The climb up the other side of the canyon was a steep scramble and there were definitely some loose rocks, but we all made it up smoothly despite a couple of us (myself included) having a fear of heights. I have realized that my fear has diminished quite a lot since the Mount St Helens run last year - this section didn't bother me at all, and I know that it would have a year ago. The more adventure runs I do like this; the further I incrementally push myself outside my comfort zone, the more confident I become. It's encouraging, and exciting.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiTJFUCy6toDTVTMwPk1e-gefh-I_7wvaHCDigiyw4Xh8BIq6wfiTTREShQpldvvLaRy75VBDnOkFY0bAfdP8cFcZv8ShxFCRuW-hXO87Tr7MFF9vQcxAWXsv4OwDA5EazAo89xemNLHc/s1600/IMG_8465.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiTJFUCy6toDTVTMwPk1e-gefh-I_7wvaHCDigiyw4Xh8BIq6wfiTTREShQpldvvLaRy75VBDnOkFY0bAfdP8cFcZv8ShxFCRuW-hXO87Tr7MFF9vQcxAWXsv4OwDA5EazAo89xemNLHc/s640/IMG_8465.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing out of Eliot basin. You can see the trail we came down on the other side at the top of the picture. <br />
Photo: Chloe Gendron</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now on the rugged north side of Mount Hood, we ran through the remnants of the Dollar Lake fire, a massive wildfire caused by a lightning strike in 2011 that burned for 2 months and eventually consumed over 6000 acres of high elevation forest. This part of the run was a highlight for me - the burned out forest was so eerily beautiful, and offered some of the best vistas we had seen so far. Despite having been decimated by the fire, this landscape was teeming with new growth among the burned white trees. As with the vegetation that is slowly returning to the flanks of Mount St Helens after the 1980 eruption, so too will this landscape recover. It was really quite magical to be running through it.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq-ZWnY1U7LrxpuwhxPmGFyUt-JntlblhFtFvxhd2vbcyTPZ2xbQ7jVBgLNaEnBJY2qAFPjDshmLXIZ2NyZ5iee338bcqil0uNTkq4D06p0bHjTyM_NA0flkYNWQjizXLeDXgxOkh-iOU/s1600/IMG_20161001_134648991_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq-ZWnY1U7LrxpuwhxPmGFyUt-JntlblhFtFvxhd2vbcyTPZ2xbQ7jVBgLNaEnBJY2qAFPjDshmLXIZ2NyZ5iee338bcqil0uNTkq4D06p0bHjTyM_NA0flkYNWQjizXLeDXgxOkh-iOU/s640/IMG_20161001_134648991_HDR.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the edge of the burn. Still chasing that rainbow</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mount Hood is known to the Multnomah tribe as Wy'east, and like Mount St Helens is prominent in the mythology of the region. In one legend, Wy'east was one of two sons of the Great Spirit Sahale who became entangled in a love triangle over the beautiful maiden Loowit. In their battle over her, the brothers burned forests and villages before Sahale became enraged, killed them all and then, in his grief, erected mountain peaks in honour of the star-crossed lovers. Loowit became Mount St Helens and Wy'east, being the proudest of the brothers, became the tall and imposing Mount Hood. Making the full journey around these volcanoes demands a great respect for their wildness, and seems like a fitting way to honour these indigenous legends. If it was easy, the journey would not be as meaningful. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">More than 8 hours into our day at this point, we were all growing tired - but we continued to move forward. Every time I started to falter, I reminded myself how lucky I was to be able to do something like this, and took a moment to look around and take it all in: Beautiful landscapes. Incredible single track trail. A volcano. A rainbow. Strong, inspiring, supportive women (otherwise known as unicorns). A recipe for an amazing experience.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXB54WucQ3g-JcUC5Csqq3zb84L89tLChV-yIi4P07xOVkTOxREamlGTqhRqIdmlTnViLYX23Uk3ar0snLnWnPxdaSIm0rKBEFkTlSDk-o645e_WqijrB0273gZsf23M_fAeVbGmZZWG8/s1600/IMG_20161001_141027869_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXB54WucQ3g-JcUC5Csqq3zb84L89tLChV-yIi4P07xOVkTOxREamlGTqhRqIdmlTnViLYX23Uk3ar0snLnWnPxdaSIm0rKBEFkTlSDk-o645e_WqijrB0273gZsf23M_fAeVbGmZZWG8/s640/IMG_20161001_141027869_HDR.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Partly burned out, but still thriving. A good metaphor for this point in the day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As we made our way around the western side of the mountain, we moved in and out of more meadows, river crossings, and steep switchback sections of trail. We had one unfortunate incident where we got a bit carried away running down a fun series of switchbacks for a few kilometres - before realizing that we were heading in the wrong direction, and having to turn around and climb back up until we regained the Timberline trail. We also followed a sign at one trail junction that said "PCT to Timberline Lodge" - we knew that Timberline coincided with the PCT for several miles near the end of our day, so thought this was correct, but soon realized that we were headed on a wider loop out to the west than we had been expecting. Right general direction, just a few "bonus miles" (!). These were our only two mistakes of the day, though, and neither set us back very far. We got back on our intended course and started running down an incredibly long, fun section of somewhat technical forested trail (which was a bit worrisome at this point in the day, because we knew Timberline Lodge was at quite a high elevation - which meant we would eventually be climbing back up again). Just as the daylight was starting to fade, we wound our way down into the massive Zigzag canyon and up the other side. And, sure enough, this is where the climbing started again...and never seemed to end.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUPmXWcVExn-5xgnXc3tjclxaAF-HVH2IN489aRm7kIYrP75UauqYiRaol4-NnMYCioLllj6Sa66VRfRRW6up0SjDTdEA5n20XBCs2v343vji8iv-1-5PvLE0rzoaOplgcZRHDGihu05s/s1600/14536990_10100913587156759_1985035422_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUPmXWcVExn-5xgnXc3tjclxaAF-HVH2IN489aRm7kIYrP75UauqYiRaol4-NnMYCioLllj6Sa66VRfRRW6up0SjDTdEA5n20XBCs2v343vji8iv-1-5PvLE0rzoaOplgcZRHDGihu05s/s640/14536990_10100913587156759_1985035422_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zigzag Canyon. Photo: Tory Scholz</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As we ascended switchback after switchback, we were slowed to a hike and my energy started to plummet. My muscles felt fine, but I was just so exhausted that I really started to struggle at this point. I think it was a combination of leftover fatigue from the race the week before, and not eating enough toward the end of the day. Reduced to silence except for the odd involuntary grunting/whimpering sounds that I was making as I trudged upward, I kept putting one foot in front of the other, and tried to stay positive. Huge shout out here to Tory, who saw what was happening and tried to distract me with stories, and Emily, who said simply at one point "right now I'm just grateful that it's not raining". We were all experiencing our own levels of low points at this stage, and yet we got each other through it. This is what I love about days like this, and about sharing these adventures with like-minded, supportive friends. I think that you need those low points to make the experience rich; they let you know what you are capable of, and just how much your mind can get your body through. It's like those burned out sections of trail: nature is tenacious, and so are we. In everyday life, we just don't get enough opportunities to find out how strong we really are.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyxDjoVKE6GjPI1Zr1QAjSQLK2xcczidqL-I-xl82pPo-pAqRya594kO8ovuAX8w-Cq90el_OU9sGx1JTVVxSmMr5xxclbPxPn4yEUfmMeztkPAjYR9sz3sEXJLlxlncJ-GWFDwzaoCGQ/s1600/14513653_10101901216773351_1163532763_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyxDjoVKE6GjPI1Zr1QAjSQLK2xcczidqL-I-xl82pPo-pAqRya594kO8ovuAX8w-Cq90el_OU9sGx1JTVVxSmMr5xxclbPxPn4yEUfmMeztkPAjYR9sz3sEXJLlxlncJ-GWFDwzaoCGQ/s400/14513653_10101901216773351_1163532763_o.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We finally crested the last climb, and started to see the lights from the lodge in the distance. We spent the last 1-1.5 hours of our day in darkness, guided by the light of our headlamps. When we got to a sign that said "Timberline Lodge, 1 mile", I thought I was going to cry in happiness. Emily and I looked at each other and said in unison, "We can run a mile" - and so we did.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">68 km, 3400 m of climbing, and 13+ hours after we set out from Timberline Lodge that morning, we burst through its doors to some surprised glances from patrons - muddy, wet, and grinning from ear to ear. All of the hardships of the last few hours slowly melted away as we changed into warm dry clothes, drank local craft beer, and swapped stories and laughs. What a day. Thank you, Wy'east, for welcoming a group of unicorns to honour you with our annual journey.</span></div>
<div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-83491844363117750552016-09-18T21:53:00.000-07:002016-09-19T08:42:36.354-07:00Running toward Healing<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A month ago, August 19th at 10:30 in the morning, I held my hand gently on my dad's chest as he took his last breath. I will never forget that moment: me, my brother and mom clinging to each other in grief as we stood around his bed and felt him leave this world, his big personality and gentle soul peacefully escaping the wasted shell to which cancer had reduced his body. We all touched his face over and over, in numb disbelief despite knowing this moment was coming. And then we gathered our things and left the hospital, even though the staff told us we could stay as long as we wanted. The truth is, we had been saying goodbye for days; weeks, really. He was no longer there, in that room, in that shell. Not to us.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is a difficult post to write. I've been trying to start it for a while, but every time I do, I get overwhelmingly sad and have to stop writing. But I know that in my toolbox, the two best tools I have for coping with stress and heartache are writing and, of course, running. And so, as hard as it sometimes is, I continue to do both.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO8G_KPDaOtFaYKAQDSIuAfCv9PDYOoYwtBwN2k5m3RQgne7nIUDVt1ykqp6pzYwN1OfUQGHcSQNY8_Ji5JJQ96klRjKLiaLHBOsl2HshGTdYZTQLb6pVH1ZEup1CnloLoE0lEucVt9Ig/s1600/IMG_20160703_143717.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO8G_KPDaOtFaYKAQDSIuAfCv9PDYOoYwtBwN2k5m3RQgne7nIUDVt1ykqp6pzYwN1OfUQGHcSQNY8_Ji5JJQ96klRjKLiaLHBOsl2HshGTdYZTQLb6pVH1ZEup1CnloLoE0lEucVt9Ig/s400/IMG_20160703_143717.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">La Route Verte (the Green Route), Sherbrooke QC</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #444444;">In the first few weeks after my dad's diagnosis, I ran almost every day, 5 k on the Route Verte bike trail along the St Francis river from the hospital to my parents' house. Those runs were part jogging, part walking, part crying - but they helped me settle my thoughts and emotions, as jumbled as they were, and I was thankful for that outlet to try to process what was happening. I ran on the day he died, a few hours after we returned from the hospital. I made it about half an hour before breaking down. I sat down on the shore of a little pond on the trails where my dad walked his dog every day and cried in huge, frantic sobs that made my whole body shake, thinking so many things all at once: It happened so fast. He was always so healthy. How can he be gone? I'll miss him so much. I continued to run in the week that followed, venturing into the mountains of the Eastern Townships of Quebec and spending long mornings exploring the rugged trails. Sometimes I cried a little; other times, I realized I went hours without thinking about the fact that he is gone. Such is the beauty of hard mountain running: it requires such a singular focus that it allows me the space to not be sad, for a while. A month later, I am coping but still feeling disoriented; anchorless - but I find that I feel most at peace when I am out on the trails. I sometimes worry that I am running away from my grief, but deep down I know that what I am really doing is running toward healing. One step, one trail, one mountain at a time. </span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYiVTZABTN6x1L4c-1TXcyMc0yz9CXZhx5D4OzX29PrBT9eUw31lTQ5sLlr7R9K6o2EN5FcrMDYxl9a3WrTzY032DkQAzSWigyWVPm54r9WCSVldxHRyQQ8XL6lMQUCDuyDu_Y3G93rqQ/s1600/IMG_20160823_144210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYiVTZABTN6x1L4c-1TXcyMc0yz9CXZhx5D4OzX29PrBT9eUw31lTQ5sLlr7R9K6o2EN5FcrMDYxl9a3WrTzY032DkQAzSWigyWVPm54r9WCSVldxHRyQQ8XL6lMQUCDuyDu_Y3G93rqQ/s400/IMG_20160823_144210.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Pic de l'Ours (Bear Peak), Quebec</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #444444;">The morning my mom called to tell me that he had been diagnosed with terminal cancer - June 29th - I was on a hike/run with two of my friends, a loop up Mount Brunswick, across part of the Howe Sound Crest Trail, and up and down Mount Harvey. My phone rang literally the minute I summited Harvey. I sat on a rock on top of a mountain, overlooking the bright blue sound dotted with islands, and listened as mom told me that my dad had maybe two months to live, and that he might go any minute. She sounded exhausted and in shock, but strong, amazingly. I somehow made it down that mountain, although I don't really remember it happening. Two days later, back in Quebec where my dad was now living in the hospital, I showed him a few pictures from that run, and he said, "Wow. How beautiful."</span>
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi66bEL0PQR6cUMqaWfjwKnBCqxmZ3yypR4wjtQ-OeJPyXAOr8v-qj9H1GfVkeiU2adG8Xd_NdbcWms1UdIh-C2bBH1K0TQ_3Eav0RKeZdY7zWA5dBSE1xe1v49OsdJIpI3XaCT5nfeGP0/s1600/IMG_20160818_201410.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi66bEL0PQR6cUMqaWfjwKnBCqxmZ3yypR4wjtQ-OeJPyXAOr8v-qj9H1GfVkeiU2adG8Xd_NdbcWms1UdIh-C2bBH1K0TQ_3Eav0RKeZdY7zWA5dBSE1xe1v49OsdJIpI3XaCT5nfeGP0/s400/IMG_20160818_201410.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mt Harvey, BC</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My dad has always been my biggest champion in everything I do, including my running. An avid hiker and traveller himself, he loved seeing pictures of my mountain running adventures. In my road running days, my parents came to countless races to support me. They travelled with me to Toronto when I ran the marathon there, and entertained themselves (and me) by riding the subway along the course as I was running and popping up in random locations to cheer me on. My dad once drove me and my mom all the way to southern New Hampshire for a 10k race; it was nearly 6 hours of driving, and I ran for 45 minutes. This past July, after 2 weeks of spending every day at the hospital with him, I took a day to go to Quebec City to run a 25k race up and over Mont Ste. Anne. I finished the race muddy, soaking wet, and exhausted - but also rejuvenated, and calmer than I had been in weeks. I got back in time to visit with my dad that evening. My brother said "That's kind of crazy", and dad said simply, "Not for Tara". He understood me. He was proud of me. And we were so similar in so many ways. I know now that I never fully appreciated what a wonderful gift that was.</span></span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm80sFyectVYngbv7itgH6Wc6KsBAsn8HxjGdpC2knKB-vB13jGn5ix4nhiJmBFg6NmZMK0ij1MmAa6bx0NHNUcCo62XYfVu-UZ2VrMa1hr6VdRDfnXmlxrlMkP9ro7Grn-mQMEn7d-68/s1600/combine_images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm80sFyectVYngbv7itgH6Wc6KsBAsn8HxjGdpC2knKB-vB13jGn5ix4nhiJmBFg6NmZMK0ij1MmAa6bx0NHNUcCo62XYfVu-UZ2VrMa1hr6VdRDfnXmlxrlMkP9ro7Grn-mQMEn7d-68/s400/combine_images.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Like father, like daughter:<br />Last fall, independently posing for a picture while holding a maple leaf :)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There are two things about the way this has unfolded that give me a small amount of comfort. I think that I received the news about his diagnosis when I was on top of a mountain - in my happy place - for a reason: t</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">o be reminded that even in the midst of all the sadness, and pain, and unfairness of cancer, there is still so much beauty in this world. My dad would have wanted me to see that. The other thing that happened was on the day he died, when I was sitting by that pond, buried in grief: I looked up for a minute and the sunlight suddenly caught the water in such a way that it was filled, absolutely filled, with those little sparkles, millions of them dancing across the surface. It only lasted for a few moments. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I think peace will slowly come to me like this, in small pieces of beauty that fill my heart until it is repaired. And I think that as long as I am noticing these things, then I am doing ok.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Two days after he died, I was scheduled to be running the Squamish 50k. I had been excited about the race, and had worked hard to get to that start line after coming back from a systemic injury that was, in a complex way, related to my own brush with cancer 2 years ago. I know that I am one of the "lucky" ones, as far as this disease goes - and I am grateful for that, every day. My dad's reaction when he was diagnosed and in the same day admitted to palliative care was not to rail against the unfairness of it all, but instead to reflect on how great his 78 years on earth have been. Gratitude. I learned it from him. And so, I have decided to run a different 50k - Whistler Alpine Meadows - next weekend. On race day it will have been 5 weeks since he left us, and one month since we buried his ashes. The race is going to be extremely challenging, and extremely beautiful, and I'll probably cry my way through parts of it - but I will run every step of it mindfully, to honour my dad in the best way I know how, which is to be the person he taught me to be. Someone who lives life to the fullest, chases goals, doesn't take the easy road, and enjoys the simple things like spending time immersed in natural beauty. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">That's where my dad is now, to me. He is in the way the trees sway in the breeze, the way the rocks glisten when they're wet with rain, the way the water sparkles in the sunlight. He is with me, always, reminding me of where I came from, and where and who I want to be.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZwdhj8uLCuJOZEXIyYhDcNa1INewW1t-26JzYC7HPc0jKrxUBTTpovaDkMW-GKlhpKxLtcsx2jH8Y_A457mlLdOv195wiX2rNjktyxYQLXdo4Q7pYTNYHeiSCtR5_BGMXNqfmznY2jKc/s1600/FullSizeRender_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZwdhj8uLCuJOZEXIyYhDcNa1INewW1t-26JzYC7HPc0jKrxUBTTpovaDkMW-GKlhpKxLtcsx2jH8Y_A457mlLdOv195wiX2rNjktyxYQLXdo4Q7pYTNYHeiSCtR5_BGMXNqfmznY2jKc/s400/FullSizeRender_2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i style="color: #444444; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">"Don't grieve. Everything you lose comes round in another form."</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> - Rumi</span></blockquote>
taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-71712065313567773922016-05-17T17:18:00.000-07:002016-05-17T20:11:04.455-07:00Everything is Connected<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I like writing blog posts about wonderful races and wild running adventures. Who can blame me? Writing about these experiences allows me to relive running through beautiful, inspiring places and to take pride in my accomplishments. As I know all too well, though, this is only one part of running. Sometimes there is pain, and frustration, and moments when all your positive momentum comes grinding to a halt. I call this "a blog about running and life" - and so, I feel that my posts should reflect the reality that there are always highs and lows in both. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfpRj76z4XdC16jOAI1ZvaB4sOaT7cpqdXdr8NzvaPMFlBXxM4H-mHn1p9ugjzkujB2PW6Apk322ST2NGbSNXYaTioKzNz8tx0kKbn9Vn2GzDa2xSGhfb8H59uCiye0_AINbmICcLEZ6o/s1600/12939636_10153846268220073_118632462_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfpRj76z4XdC16jOAI1ZvaB4sOaT7cpqdXdr8NzvaPMFlBXxM4H-mHn1p9ugjzkujB2PW6Apk322ST2NGbSNXYaTioKzNz8tx0kKbn9Vn2GzDa2xSGhfb8H59uCiye0_AINbmICcLEZ6o/s320/12939636_10153846268220073_118632462_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last time I ran uninjured, 6 weeks ago. <br />
Pic: Hilary Matheson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">6 weeks post Gorge 100k, and I have finally come to terms with the fact that I am injured. I took 2 1/2 weeks completely off running after the race, and have been trying to "ease" back into it since - with persistent pain in my hip/groin. For those who may have read my glowing <a href="http://in-thelongrun.blogspot.ca/2016/04/gorge-waterfalls-100k-there-and-back.html" target="_blank">blog post about Gorge</a>, I mention that hip pain flaring up at the turnaround point. Which means I ran on it for 50k. The irony is not lost on me that the dogged stubbornness and tolerance for pushing through pain that helps so much in ultra running can be your worst enemy when you are dealing with an injury. If I am completely honest with myself, I have not given my body the time it needs to heal, not really; instead, I have been convincing myself that the pain is getting better, that "motion is lotion", and that if I just keep slowly and consistently working away at coming back to running, my injury will heal.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is not how healing works.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Healing works by listening to your body. By being honest with yourself about what it needs, and giving it that. And by letting go of that incessant drive to propel yourself forward without veering off course: sometimes (and I know this, I really do!), the only way to get to where you want to go is to stop, take stock, and re-route. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwytQo3-e4xsvDrXdN_jOF4lW0Z5Nnr-Hlm1lfPZwF5jLcEfJOd_kKK1YRCxmxmYwmSXBQnc-HOfQxDs6DznJ7UiMPNXaoYqn8xaDl_5SWyYFuRto7CfmHAXDDD_kWepg6K0nAsh_1ESM/s1600/Chinscraper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwytQo3-e4xsvDrXdN_jOF4lW0Z5Nnr-Hlm1lfPZwF5jLcEfJOd_kKK1YRCxmxmYwmSXBQnc-HOfQxDs6DznJ7UiMPNXaoYqn8xaDl_5SWyYFuRto7CfmHAXDDD_kWepg6K0nAsh_1ESM/s320/Chinscraper.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All smiles during Chuckanut 50k. Pic: Glenn Tachiyama</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Like most runners, I am goal-driven, and this year I signed up for quite a few races, anticipating a great season after a strong start with the Chuckanut 50k in March and Gorge in April. The main reason I kept stubbornly trying to build my running back up earlier than I should have was because I had registered for the Sun Mountain 50k race, which is this coming weekend. I finally let go of that - and a little bit of the pressure I put on myself lessened. I took a hard look at my race calendar, and distilled it down to what really matters to me, which is the Squamish 50 in August. I let go of everything else. I want to be fit and healthy for that race - and am now, finally, willing to do what it takes for that to happen. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFi-Uv0X9KZhj6gICf707pxWBnmczEAuqL41IrU8q5MjsB7FrtQimAVlpGvxZfohph3QPk-E77TVTBJmjEtnDcGSoMnjCvrCwZIwV10-rRiYHTctPWc_fO24E8T3Tu0PxIdSU-7qpFGfU/s1600/zen.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFi-Uv0X9KZhj6gICf707pxWBnmczEAuqL41IrU8q5MjsB7FrtQimAVlpGvxZfohph3QPk-E77TVTBJmjEtnDcGSoMnjCvrCwZIwV10-rRiYHTctPWc_fO24E8T3Tu0PxIdSU-7qpFGfU/s320/zen.png" width="284" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So, what will it take? I have, according to best guesses from my doctor, physio, and osteopath, iliopsoas muscle strains on both sides, one slightly worse than the other. This injury is seemingly connected in a complex way to the bilateral mastectomy surgery I had 18 months ago, which over time has caused incremental adjustments in my chest muscles and diaphragm, which has resulted in my psoas and hip being constantly pulled. I first felt some hint of these issues in April last year, when I was suddenly plagued with mysterious sciatic/hamstring pain. A week of rehab and rest seemed to do the trick, and I was off and running again - but the internal pulling never went away, and was essentially a ticking time bomb in my body. Eventually, and somewhat unsurprisingly, I threw the whole system completely over the edge by running 100k - and the bomb went off. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A strain first and foremost requires rest - which I have been telling myself I was doing, but in retrospect of course haven't been diligent enough about. Sure, I have been diligent about doing hip stabilizing and core strengthening exercises, and yoga, and hip flexor stretching, and foam rolling...but rest? Not my strong suit. To be fair to myself, my physio kept telling me that going for short runs wasn't going to make it worse, and that a little pain while healing is to be expected - but this week my doctor finally said the words that I dreaded, but desperately needed to hear: no running. No running for 3-4 weeks. Stay diligent with the other stuff, yes. But do. not. run.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg18lOFswrCMQXPaM_5R5x5Xl7nApVkyEb4VWWlWRSKHPoQSoKYphkEyeMoGxfXIoIZw0rTivxSe-k_BVW5gfc987wFLt-YhVZ0knvqJ1BXISUv7TkBjiWUJZfq0Ab6YMe8RqBX49IV2K8/s1600/IMG_2172.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg18lOFswrCMQXPaM_5R5x5Xl7nApVkyEb4VWWlWRSKHPoQSoKYphkEyeMoGxfXIoIZw0rTivxSe-k_BVW5gfc987wFLt-YhVZ0knvqJ1BXISUv7TkBjiWUJZfq0Ab6YMe8RqBX49IV2K8/s320/IMG_2172.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No shortage of trails to power hike around here. <br />
Pic: Tiff Phillips</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It seems like such a ridiculous thing to be so upset about. It's only running, after all - and yet </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have gone completely through the 5 stages of grief over this injury. It is frankly a relief to finally reach the acceptance stage, and to be able to move forward in a positive way. I can still hike, as long as my hip doesn't stiffen up afterward. So far, so good on that front. I consider power hiking to be my weakness in ultras - I am stronger on runnable courses, and on steep sections that call for power hiking I tend to lose focus and just kind of... walk. So I am now reframing this as an opportunity to practice something that I am not great at. It still gets me onto my beloved trails every day, with the added bonus that I feel I am still working toward something. </span><br />
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A couple days ago I was hiking up a steep hill in Squamish, battling feelings of frustration, doubt, and figuratively wondering where to go from here (</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">apparently I was still in the depression stage of grief...)</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">. At that moment, I literally saw an arrow chalked into the ground in front of me, which was</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> left over from last month's Squamish 50 orientation run. Clearly, the universe felt I needed a <i>really</i> obvious sign to remind me of my main goal (side note: we also clearly could really use some rain). I paused, laughed out loud, wiped a tear away, breathed my thanks, and kept climbing. Onward and upward, carefully and mindfully paying attention - and I will reach those highs again.</span></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKaOnipZURAKnb-RoCPInO1m3_Tbud1MPpnXmifUdqpfXld6aalTwpw0PaEJkZlratP91wDIlG0wetZFLSChaSPClU6z8hSLX3lv2UHtCEZu5fpaBS99AiddpgWd3fC4jZfU8sgcN-0Sk/s1600/IMG_20160514_102318144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKaOnipZURAKnb-RoCPInO1m3_Tbud1MPpnXmifUdqpfXld6aalTwpw0PaEJkZlratP91wDIlG0wetZFLSChaSPClU6z8hSLX3lv2UHtCEZu5fpaBS99AiddpgWd3fC4jZfU8sgcN-0Sk/s400/IMG_20160514_102318144.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pointing me toward my goal.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-66315484486407925202016-04-05T18:42:00.000-07:002018-01-14T09:26:24.981-08:00Gorge Waterfalls 100k 2016: There and Back Again<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkqJW-yes0Z2b5VVz5Opjugj7knLdysSlgl2gcZWNRxPRoclapqxJyE28cBzkpJmXOi69cVYWmB9vwMoy5F5WoVjlCAecySUZhCgH3spQ86Ysb_qbJqSZjD8B9x156iOBPY9dGSJySb5Q/s1600/Gorge3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkqJW-yes0Z2b5VVz5Opjugj7knLdysSlgl2gcZWNRxPRoclapqxJyE28cBzkpJmXOi69cVYWmB9vwMoy5F5WoVjlCAecySUZhCgH3spQ86Ysb_qbJqSZjD8B9x156iOBPY9dGSJySb5Q/s640/Gorge3.jpg" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo: Glenn Tachiyama</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I find that the most difficult thing about running something like the Gorge Waterfalls 100k is going back to an everyday routine afterward. Something shifts in me when I spend the entire day outside, moving only by the power of my own legs and heart, through beautifully wild places. It is hard to put into words, but this is why I love ultra running: it gives me the gift of stepping outside of the ordinary and challenging my mind and body to do extraordinary things. You might think my smile in this picture was put on for the camera, as it was ~80k into the race - but I am pretty sure I had this huge grin on my face for most of the run. I even commented the next day that my cheeks were sore from smiling so much (little-known ultra running muscle pain). It is true that you never know what you can accomplish until you try - which is partly why I made the seemingly rash decision to run a 100k race on 1 month's notice.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Let me back up a few months.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When my ultra inspiring girlfriends signed up for this race back in October and encouraged me to do the same, I thought they were nuts. I had only run 50k a few times, and had never gone longer. The thought of how amazing this experience could be ate away at me for a while, though, and I finally decided to put my name on the wait list (the race sold out on the day registration opened). I was 129th in line, so never really expected to get in, and just went about my training for the Chuckanut 50k in March. Exactly one month before race day (2 weeks before Chuckanut), I got the shock of my life when I was invited off the wait list. Could I possibly do this? My friends of course (emphatically) said yes - but bear in mind that they are all accomplished ultra runners who have much more experience than I do. I was in the classic situation of my logical head telling me it was crazy, and my wild heart telling me that that is exactly why I should do it. I decided that Brendan would be the voice of reason; he knows me better than anyone and is very rational. Somewhat to my surprise, when I asked him he told me to go for it (amazingly supportive partner? Check.). And so I officially entered the race, deciding to treat it as what Alicia referred to as a "full-day supported adventure run". No pressure; no expectations beyond enjoying myself and revelling in the experience.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6MFToVsaLQY_NJg39pQV5U43i_Nil3kjp11EWVzoTab3-CLiMq8edTQuH6mQLCOFF1Y8qAoDCvaAh4uJwjFjtCgmkzCQTHbMonRRVsgB_w2qrxZcwd19kJdJLKg-e7yG5H4nypg8ZJag/s1600/start.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6MFToVsaLQY_NJg39pQV5U43i_Nil3kjp11EWVzoTab3-CLiMq8edTQuH6mQLCOFF1Y8qAoDCvaAh4uJwjFjtCgmkzCQTHbMonRRVsgB_w2qrxZcwd19kJdJLKg-e7yG5H4nypg8ZJag/s400/start.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo: Dave Hurst</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">8 of us travelled together from Vancouver to Oregon on Friday (5 girls running, + 2 boyfriends and 1 friend who flew from Calgary just to come and cheer us on). We had a pretty chill evening and then before we knew it were waking up at 4:15 to try to shove some breakfast down and get to the start, which was thankfully only 15 minutes from our hotel. The race started at 6, and we arrived at 5:20 - only to find out that the parking lot was full, and we would need to park a mile away and walk back. Not the ideal beginning to the morning! We were definitely feeling a bit frantic, rushing to the start carrying all of our gear and arriving there with barely enough time to register, throw our drop bags in the appropriate piles to be sent to aid stations along the course, and have the <i>always</i>-needed pre-race bathroom stop. The one thing I will say is that there wasn't enough time to get nervous: when the race started, I was still pinning my bib on my shorts! Off we trotted in the darkness, a conga line of headlamps following a short loop around a lake before heading into the trails and our first major climb of the day. It was somehow soothing looking up and seeing an endless trail of lights snaking up the switchbacks ahead of me on the mountain - the anticipation of what the day would hold fading away with the familiar practice of just putting one foot in front of the other.</span><br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEM72E7S-rOgRxbuN_IjlastpsSkw74eF6m31rppt4iyqm0oQTaN66z3IxUtza2F_sPkqYIWV4o3q0S9hMYgcjAeqgFS0yom0XuR1mGIKe-hSVoULJrCCi-3HutLG45ob0T4QB5hYNjTY/s1600/gorge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEM72E7S-rOgRxbuN_IjlastpsSkw74eF6m31rppt4iyqm0oQTaN66z3IxUtza2F_sPkqYIWV4o3q0S9hMYgcjAeqgFS0yom0XuR1mGIKe-hSVoULJrCCi-3HutLG45ob0T4QB5hYNjTY/s320/gorge.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hilary and I leaving one of the aid stations...<br />
clearly, having no fun at all. Photo: Geoff Large</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">On a long training run a few weeks before Gorge, my friend Hilary and I had decided to stick together for as much of the race as made sense. This turned out to be the wisest possible decision for me, because we made an absolutely perfect team out there. Hilary is a self-described metronome when running, and we fell into a comfortable, consistent pace right from the beginning. Our strategy was to take the first half very easy, not pushing on the up or down hills, with the hopes of saving our legs for the later stages of the race. We also didn't want to spend too much time in aid stations: in and out in 2-3 minutes. Our goal was to hit the turn around at 50k somewhere in the ballpark of 6h30 (for the record, we hit it at <i>exactly</i> 6h30). I have to say, this strategy worked flawlessly. We chugged along, chatting when we felt like it and falling into comfortable silence when we didn't. I followed her lead, trusting in her experience of having run the course the year before. Although the trails weren't technical by BC standards, there were many off-camber sections filled with sharp rocks that were surprisingly slow to navigate. And though the course is described as a "rolling" 100k, there are actually quite a few really steep climbs and descents - there was very little flat running all day.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS4HRRxpzui6F0FhvZmScNTjSlctuX8bM9tX4YyvkDZnpDHntUwjAJn3ivaEGurpZhG9-C25A5XSgd6Exo-4AJ8m2AoOdeyIrOzxPPtEwal2pZQXW60-lszVCWTSeaC6Aylwgd2Xtg6rg/s1600/IMG_20160402_130232535_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS4HRRxpzui6F0FhvZmScNTjSlctuX8bM9tX4YyvkDZnpDHntUwjAJn3ivaEGurpZhG9-C25A5XSgd6Exo-4AJ8m2AoOdeyIrOzxPPtEwal2pZQXW60-lszVCWTSeaC6Aylwgd2Xtg6rg/s640/IMG_20160402_130232535_HDR.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When it wasn't waterfalls, it was magical rocks and moss. A rare flat section.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The course is an out-and back, which means that you run through every aid station twice, except for the one at the turnaround. I really wasn't sure what I would be able to eat when running for this long; in 50k races I can get away with eating only energy gels, but they definitely start to turn my stomach by the end, so I knew I would have to mix it up for this race. I decided that variety would be the best strategy, so I packed a bunch of choices in each drop bag, so that I could pick up what I felt like: avocado, cut in half, seeded, salted and with a sprinkle of lemon; fig newtons; Trail Butter (which is a thin-textured mixed nut butter); roasted & salted edamame; and, of course, some energy chews and gels. I would also rely on aid station foods to supplement what I was carrying with me in my pack. It turned out that by far the best things for me were the avocado (I ate 2 1/2 avocados over the course of the day and was absolutely loving them - Hilary said to me afterward, "you talked about avocado alot". Haha.), the Trail Butter (delicious and filling), and bananas, oranges, chips, and Coke from the aid stations. The edamame was tasty, but turned into such a paste in my mouth that it was difficult to swallow. I carried gels and chews with me and took them every now and then - basically, I was trying to eat every 45 mins or so, which seemed to be enough for me not to bonk. My energy level stayed fairly constant all day. I was also running with my hydration bladder, filled with Nuun water - I'm not sure how much I drank because aid station volunteers always filled it up for me, but it was a very hot and humid day and I know I was drinking a lot.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The second half of the race was where things started to get interesting. After the turnaround, a psoas injury that I was dealing with in January flared up, and I found myself shuffling out of the aid station with quite a bit of pain in my right hipflexor when I went uphill. I stopped to stretch, and told Hilary to go ahead. I took an Advil and walked and chatted with Alicia for a while, who we had been surprised to happen upon on the trail at about 40k, sunning herself on a rock. She (clearly) wasn't having the day she had expected, but happily came along with us and as always kept a positive and upbeat attitude - and selfishly, I was loving spending a couple hours on the trail with 2 out of my 5 friends who were running the race! It was pretty special. The other nice part about the course being an out-and-back is that you got to see every single other runner on the course at some point, which means we also got to see Tara ("yay, you guys are doing so well!"; hugs ensuing), Tory ("UNICORNS!"), and Niki (Hi! Where the eff is the aid station?!"; I had asked the exact same thing maybe 30 minutes earlier, haha) when we crossed paths.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDMxO73R9foq2F8SJ4Jc4ore7ASdLFLM_OCWYequJUTu7tPvgoxJP2lCMcsqsRbwjJtVi_5OeZSHGdyDGB_VoyxHsKRIkMD5F9cnHyhgEE6wx-c1OcGzol577RJneq_UhXYb-fXkS4dLo/s1600/Screen+shot+2016-04-05+at+3.13.56+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="83" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDMxO73R9foq2F8SJ4Jc4ore7ASdLFLM_OCWYequJUTu7tPvgoxJP2lCMcsqsRbwjJtVi_5OeZSHGdyDGB_VoyxHsKRIkMD5F9cnHyhgEE6wx-c1OcGzol577RJneq_UhXYb-fXkS4dLo/s640/Screen+shot+2016-04-05+at+3.13.56+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A "rolling" course, to 50k and back again. (Even though it's called a 100k race, the markers are in miles).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anyway. My hip. The Advil, stretching, and walking did the trick and once I started running again, I found I felt amazing. On gently rolling sections and downhill stretches, I upped my pace a bit and it felt wonderful to open up my stride and run. I realized I was passing quite a few people, especially on the downhills, and was amazed at how relatively fresh I was feeling. I galloped into the Cascade Locks aid station at mile 40 (~64k) and was ecstatic to see Julien and Ryan (Alicia and Tara's boyfriends) and Arielle there, and to find out that Hilary had just come in as well. I told them I wanted to change my socks because I had been feeling some hot spots starting, and Arielle immediately sat me down in a chair, untied my shoes, pulled my disgusting compression socks off (not an easy task at the best of times), got me Coke, and even started digging her elbow into my quad when it seized up from sitting down. I had met this girl exactly one day before this. Seriously, the most amazing impromptu crew ever. I got freshly socked and shoed, reunited with Hilary, and we were off, together again - this whole process took only about 5 minutes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The rest of the race is a bit of a blur. I remember looking at my watch and being stunned that it was already 4 in the afternoon (How is it possible we've been running for 10 hours already? And are still running?). </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I remember doing the world' slowest "fartlek workout" on the dreaded 4k road section after the Yeon aid station at 80k (Let's just get to the end of the shade. Let's just get to that bridge). I know that I trudged off the trail into the woods to pee at one point, maybe with around 12 k remaining, and that was when Hilary and I separated for the final time (</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">she ended up finishing 5 minutes before me. Amazing that we stayed so close over such a long distance)</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">. I ran the rest of the race by myself, feeling indescribably happy and grateful for the day I was having - and yes, eager to get to the finish. I passed so many people, and was passed by no one. I must have run by 8-10 women in the last 20k of the race, and every single one of them only had words of encouragement, which I of course returned. Something happened inside me, and I felt so strong - my legs were inconceivably fresh, my uphills were going better than they had all day and I bounded down descents that others were tiptoeing down. I crossed the finish line of my first 100k in 13h33 as the 15th woman in a highly competitive field. I high-fived race director James, and then immediately burst into tears as I was swallowed in hugs from my friends. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOpWxUEhvtVeTQKwlL7KSWjjB0buzslL0tXKLZI9fDQW38Lk7bgikGjZt3nbo1o6mvtZdhTu1C00hfBL4jzCGYxL9SyUam5wjMSOaXbvu9jbzJSA6LbMriSoWxbytvB05eCUlb5FNhpKM/s1600/gorge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="379" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOpWxUEhvtVeTQKwlL7KSWjjB0buzslL0tXKLZI9fDQW38Lk7bgikGjZt3nbo1o6mvtZdhTu1C00hfBL4jzCGYxL9SyUam5wjMSOaXbvu9jbzJSA6LbMriSoWxbytvB05eCUlb5FNhpKM/s640/gorge.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unicorns. Photo: Ryan Ledd</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEija8BelFmTnF3YaTUICzP-PpcGPcq2QAYyIoxcpmpwzxY7qX6hw3xyVSKruAQy4Y0g8xJyUyn9fkX7CFfArf2w-FfbmWAlJyfKgjno5LfYHRanTzSdpREgeDqwtU4Dfz2R6stvWG6OAyg/s1600/gorge2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEija8BelFmTnF3YaTUICzP-PpcGPcq2QAYyIoxcpmpwzxY7qX6hw3xyVSKruAQy4Y0g8xJyUyn9fkX7CFfArf2w-FfbmWAlJyfKgjno5LfYHRanTzSdpREgeDqwtU4Dfz2R6stvWG6OAyg/s400/gorge2.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trail sisters. Photo: Arielle Fitzgerald</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This has been an exceptionally long story - but then, it was an exceptionally (for me, anyway) long run. As always, the parallels between endurance running and life are brought into sharp focus with experiences like this. I think that a recipe for success in both is to not be afraid to push yourself outside your comfort zone; to view challenges as opportunities for growth; and, most importantly, to surround yourself with people who lift you up instead of tear you down. I am eternally grateful to be blessed with so many people in my life like this: my parents, who have always supported my running and have been to countless races to cheer me on (my mom was waiting up in Quebec for me to let her know how the race went). Tara, Alicia, and Tory, who always believe in me and are as happy with and as proud of my achievements as they are of their own, and who are all amazingly talented runners who never let that get in the way of the fun of it all. Brendan, who at times understands me better than I understand myself, and who knew that I would get out of this race the exact experience that I did. And of course, Hilary, who I probably ran ~80% of this course with. Someone asked her during the race if we were sisters - and for that day, we were. The experience would not have been as rich without her by my side.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So for now, it's back to everyday life - but the beauty of these experiences is, you always carry them with you (both in your legs and in your heart). Onward to the next adventure. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJwVaGwJitxcrmLPFWX-BH7Qwc95eP_ONsKDmK4_AcdrLpkoA8QzXs9bWxje7ojttGN-HqFTY5f2Lr5bQThQ-u-poE3ArvS2BQqUmMtQyQtmUv_PONZ-0L1NN8KF8U8TFYQxn0fqpF4FM/s1600/Monomah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJwVaGwJitxcrmLPFWX-BH7Qwc95eP_ONsKDmK4_AcdrLpkoA8QzXs9bWxje7ojttGN-HqFTY5f2Lr5bQThQ-u-poE3ArvS2BQqUmMtQyQtmUv_PONZ-0L1NN8KF8U8TFYQxn0fqpF4FM/s640/Monomah.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo: Hilary Matheson, taken the day before the race</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-44870305705646554742015-12-31T17:13:00.000-08:002015-12-31T17:13:37.591-08:002015: A Year Measured in Adventures<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">How to reflect on the incredible year of running I've had? If I look at 2015 by the numbers, </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I've logged over 2300 km and, according to Strava, gained almost 57,000 m of elevation in 237 hours of running (this is an under-estimate, because my GPS watch dies on runs over 5 hrs, of which I did quite a few!). These statistics, though, don't really tell the story of what I achieved in my running this year. What can possibly capture the milestones and moments I experienced over the course of those 2300+ km?</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Let's try another summary method ... </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If you're on Instagram, you'll have noticed lots of "best nine" posts recently - a collage of your nine photos that received the most "likes" in 2015. Here's what mine looks like:</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFGWNYQtcRKfFZ4KsRWGrKjt7lmYgdriCXvQE_oIOUdKbhaXpdmC-WAoes6BwO8PtO7InZXw_XFghjFe5QG1bIVM24yjcFGcAbNnzoxj9BjnCtBmyZXAE_68rtIndHcWmqT31M_GIClEY/s1600/tara.trails_full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFGWNYQtcRKfFZ4KsRWGrKjt7lmYgdriCXvQE_oIOUdKbhaXpdmC-WAoes6BwO8PtO7InZXw_XFghjFe5QG1bIVM24yjcFGcAbNnzoxj9BjnCtBmyZXAE_68rtIndHcWmqT31M_GIClEY/s640/tara.trails_full.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">These images inspire me to reflect on the amazing year of running experiences I've had, and to realize how different my 2015 was from the previous year. 2014 was about dealing with challenge after challenge - I was in survival mode for much of the year, and looking back it feels like a blur, some parts of which I can't even fully remember. This year, conversely, has been about accepting and moving forward from my cancer diagnosis and surgeries; it has been about discovering and fostering the ways in which I find peace, clarity, and positive energy. I have always loved running - but this year has reinforced not only how important it is for me to be able to run, but also how much strength and joy I gain from exploring in the wilderness for hours and days at a time, moving only on the power of my own two feet. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxkpj4iC6USaR4jAX3OApyh1ERX938FUfYo_JN1GX5fY2CUzZgYY69XkouHTWILe6ddbejyZVQpl5dObJRpENStadMyorUTv4imDswgSPShuYvOnzybwUE57hV69RAufaFXS6CKzIXqxg/s1600/drseussyoureofftogreatplaces.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxkpj4iC6USaR4jAX3OApyh1ERX938FUfYo_JN1GX5fY2CUzZgYY69XkouHTWILe6ddbejyZVQpl5dObJRpENStadMyorUTv4imDswgSPShuYvOnzybwUE57hV69RAufaFXS6CKzIXqxg/s320/drseussyoureofftogreatplaces.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And as those photos show, to what breathtaking places and experiences my own two feet have led me in 2015! I did local adventure runs like the 30k Howe Sound Crest Trail and 50k of the Sea to Sky trail from Whistler to Squamish; hiked and ran in Kelowna and Boulder, and in Banff, Yoho, Cypress, and Garibaldi Parks; completed a 50k circumnavigation of Mount St Helens; </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">won the 5 Peaks Trail Running Series;</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">raced my second ultra marathon and achieved a PB on the Squamish 50k course. All of these experiences were incredible, and carried me through some of the most beautiful landscapes I have ever seen.</span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But still, as I reflect on the year, this selection of achievements and snapshots is missing something: there is another component to why many of these 2015 experiences were so meaningful and memorable. It's not just the distance run or elevation gained, nor is it the beautiful landscapes alone. Before this year, I was mostly a solo runner; I would sometimes join people for long runs, but for the vast majority of my runs I was out there by myself. I still highly value my alone time on the trails - but adventures, I have discovered, are that much better when shared. </span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKax3M4ItAC44OD8KZ9TPpmnHzum6EnlE18HsWQ7UaiI0V0cDcbzxTT7F6rsjaTAbfqAhcG9VIkeIyQA3cda0PxSoyt-OGIOsYeECaJmuoeWcFpiYTbTXRRyFtNItg4Uezi5Ffm_a7cCY/s1600/winnie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKax3M4ItAC44OD8KZ9TPpmnHzum6EnlE18HsWQ7UaiI0V0cDcbzxTT7F6rsjaTAbfqAhcG9VIkeIyQA3cda0PxSoyt-OGIOsYeECaJmuoeWcFpiYTbTXRRyFtNItg4Uezi5Ffm_a7cCY/s1600/winnie.jpg" /></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As well as sharing many incredible hiking and running experiences with Brendan this year, I've made some amazing friendships with strong, like-minded women, with whom I've pushed myself ever farther outside my comfort zone in the world of ultra running. It is these supportive, positive, and uplifting relationships that have elevated my 2015 from another year of running, to a year of true adventure. So, here's my version of Instagram's collage: less pictures of me on my own, more with the people who helped make this year one of my best to date. I can't wait to see what adventures 2016 has in store.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhLeDSWxtO6PjiOEqDFMOmEqzvsCYgeM-3T1wSJyWZNlie6oMLJV8H-y8ZaDQvrHRhqpJPLO4b0-tlkJwkiC3W4LRxZuRpCEMzWnOT3_TX3l002zyeWbGnzyIdlkMplSh2iqpSxRglS4/s1600/collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhLeDSWxtO6PjiOEqDFMOmEqzvsCYgeM-3T1wSJyWZNlie6oMLJV8H-y8ZaDQvrHRhqpJPLO4b0-tlkJwkiC3W4LRxZuRpCEMzWnOT3_TX3l002zyeWbGnzyIdlkMplSh2iqpSxRglS4/s640/collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz4OpLRXA6yaB6jIe9M3ObT_lnTv9AT_U7CwlF3nk11JJIAIBkMSAc9LQ1DxmQPR7L4oVximMSECtQOSNgQr-eLzh0tICxRHI6RhTMcK4m8F4nNAxuP316pAqd_iKpCpd0xvT9uWQaKW8/s1600/12179071_10100701986246679_501201094_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"></a></div>
taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-68260999997367362582015-10-27T18:44:00.001-07:002023-03-13T13:50:08.305-07:00Lady of Fire: Circumnavigation of Mount St Helens <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMwhKQCQHs91qaAhSmreOuYodAZWgxkwwJREFOvwIIS2mf8TxqIZ7ZurTh5g_SyfANpG9y6q2id6X6mFHhFzAE39rlW9voP2ZHnmxGUXUebmgPMYzN6d_5azfYw5vheozZUsmJCVZboKQ/s1600/Trail+map.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMwhKQCQHs91qaAhSmreOuYodAZWgxkwwJREFOvwIIS2mf8TxqIZ7ZurTh5g_SyfANpG9y6q2id6X6mFHhFzAE39rlW9voP2ZHnmxGUXUebmgPMYzN6d_5azfYw5vheozZUsmJCVZboKQ/s400/Trail+map.jpg" width="298" /></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
The Loowit Trail is a 50k loop around Mount St Helens that winds, climbs, and descends through incredibly rugged, diverse landscapes, gaining and losing 2300m of elevation over its course. This circumnavigation allows you to experience all the after effects of the catastrophic 1980 eruption of the volcano, and to witness the tenacity of the vegetation and wildlife that is slowly returning to the denuded environment. This past weekend, I went with three girlfriends to run this trail in one day. Organized by the incomparable Alicia, our adventure would have us camping overnight at the June Lake trailhead and striking out for the Loowit Trail at 8 a.m., carrying 2 L of water apiece, plus headlamps, clothing layers, emergency supplies, and LOTS of calories in various forms (from gels to Clif bars to Subway sandwiches to salty wasabi peas). We knew this was going to take much longer than your average 50k due to the technical and rugged nature of the terrain.</div>
</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieZWLsfm53mCBjtia-Iy681oQ9PywKl0fgPZ9Vmj183_ZHJcro3TajmR9Ptipe4Gyyd9Y1_fwnicXuFFixST4GF0CiK0GT-q2Kzf9E3KytDS6mOlQvtm68tlKQFYck9HxIm1WeMgYPeGE/s1600/IMG_20151024_132717668_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieZWLsfm53mCBjtia-Iy681oQ9PywKl0fgPZ9Vmj183_ZHJcro3TajmR9Ptipe4Gyyd9Y1_fwnicXuFFixST4GF0CiK0GT-q2Kzf9E3KytDS6mOlQvtm68tlKQFYck9HxIm1WeMgYPeGE/s640/IMG_20151024_132717668_HDR.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Starting at June Lake allowed us a steep but non-technical climb through the forest to start our day. After about 2 miles, we reached the junction with the Loowit Trail and were soon clambering over expansive lava fields, the route through which was marked with sporadic tall posts, small orange flags, and cairns. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVL_JcQ5YSjvQsxXzphc1bB7cpbi8VLViPRNKHuvax3Xon9XwPjUq22OEto5wuCnk5TgROQEfjrOIKvoTh8-3fdqtQzaqFILmJyGqSBxb5gj6VVRxBR9uzoDCHERn-nspYhCE3ymBa0ws/s1600/IMG_20151024_091313897_HDR.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVL_JcQ5YSjvQsxXzphc1bB7cpbi8VLViPRNKHuvax3Xon9XwPjUq22OEto5wuCnk5TgROQEfjrOIKvoTh8-3fdqtQzaqFILmJyGqSBxb5gj6VVRxBR9uzoDCHERn-nspYhCE3ymBa0ws/s640/IMG_20151024_091313897_HDR.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Tara and Alicia ascending the rocky lava field on the southwest side of the mountain</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: start;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: start;">
</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:DocumentProperties>
<o:Revision>0</o:Revision>
<o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime>
<o:Pages>1</o:Pages>
<o:Words>62</o:Words>
<o:Characters>357</o:Characters>
<o:Company>University of Guelph</o:Company>
<o:Lines>2</o:Lines>
<o:Paragraphs>1</o:Paragraphs>
<o:CharactersWithSpaces>418</o:CharactersWithSpaces>
<o:Version>14.0</o:Version>
</o:DocumentProperties>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>JA</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/>
<w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/>
<w:OverrideTableStyleHps/>
<w:UseFELayout/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="276">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-ansi-language:EN-US;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment--><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This early part of the day was when we were moving the most slowly,
mostly due to the fact that we were rock-hopping along the lava beds and crossing several washed-out regions where we would need
to scramble down a steep slope into a gully and back up the other side. We
briefly lost the trail a couple times when crossing these gullies - but could
always spot it on the other side - so the only real challenge was trying to find the
best route down and up the loose scree. After about a 600m climb from our starting point, we topped out at just over 1400m elevation and were rewarded with a peek-a-boo view of Merrill Lake nestled in the rolling hills of the Cascades.</span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN9XoFwIR6E-pYdtx-bpMpy6uMvpCo69_G7FHIUQHSzUgLYVq5UfuoNB-UzERAYXunxXgCGfnvXbSvmbgDjxqwWlTGShxBuVGRrAKP0NZYr4go9dRWgRv5rULEc4WVnUGrE0y69K48BcU/s1600/IMG_20151024_102830364.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN9XoFwIR6E-pYdtx-bpMpy6uMvpCo69_G7FHIUQHSzUgLYVq5UfuoNB-UzERAYXunxXgCGfnvXbSvmbgDjxqwWlTGShxBuVGRrAKP0NZYr4go9dRWgRv5rULEc4WVnUGrE0y69K48BcU/s640/IMG_20151024_102830364.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of lava to navigate. View of Merrill Lake in the distance.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We continued across the seemingly never-ending sharp rocks for about another 6 km before reaching a spectacular 360 degree viewpoint where we could see Mt Hood to the south. </span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiTXjiK6JBAXvWJCAut3F67fAck1Qrn7P45EEeT63yB05TdCYdeLrZwgIZSMic3B23Tre_CPGQvfAUII42mw7yUVXQsHR6gsNq9Rx0Akk5OQh1kGjCKT_s9t4nniq65dk6ps5YgR8rkP8/s1600/12177824_10100701986091989_529360970_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiTXjiK6JBAXvWJCAut3F67fAck1Qrn7P45EEeT63yB05TdCYdeLrZwgIZSMic3B23Tre_CPGQvfAUII42mw7yUVXQsHR6gsNq9Rx0Akk5OQh1kGjCKT_s9t4nniq65dk6ps5YgR8rkP8/s640/12177824_10100701986091989_529360970_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snack with a view. Mt. Hood in the far left of the picture. Photo: Tory Scholz</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">At this juncture the trail starts to climb and fall through subalpine forest, travels along the ridge of the enormous Sheep Canyon, and crosses a zone of burned trees and regenerating meadows. After about 3.5 hours of climbing and navigating extremely technical terrain, it was a joy to run on this section of trail with relatively good footing and stunning views all around. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix8NrO2ElNWjY7Kc9FJ-p6rO1-XLFQQXyvywWLi8vz5P5WT0nm3wuDpV5NhJSHojqf-SWDq11ahvxV8FO0Ktg80gJ-rdxTZxsj8nu5Jw9akOsGBk-VoD28i-T8xncP73SEFn0LQayh8DM/s1600/IMG_20151024_121734290_HDR.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix8NrO2ElNWjY7Kc9FJ-p6rO1-XLFQQXyvywWLi8vz5P5WT0nm3wuDpV5NhJSHojqf-SWDq11ahvxV8FO0Ktg80gJ-rdxTZxsj8nu5Jw9akOsGBk-VoD28i-T8xncP73SEFn0LQayh8DM/s640/IMG_20151024_121734290_HDR.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running along the ridge of Sheep Canyon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Pof5rUqJY4sCXpw2aPfZzNysTiv98PzFrbPDtM0kwpNUIQx3nJjmDWzOPFexSDuSEtHz7gzhTNG5JJG1qsHB43UPw2XWNjTiCj8FX1YTCsy-DjHObez9K6miPmIsE6e5nKe92W31ZhQ/s1600/IMG_20151024_122437844_HDR.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Pof5rUqJY4sCXpw2aPfZzNysTiv98PzFrbPDtM0kwpNUIQx3nJjmDWzOPFexSDuSEtHz7gzhTNG5JJG1qsHB43UPw2XWNjTiCj8FX1YTCsy-DjHObez9K6miPmIsE6e5nKe92W31ZhQ/s640/IMG_20151024_122437844_HDR.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meadows and burned trees</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Loowit brought us down to the Toutle River on a fun, leafy trail that switchbacked through remnant old-growth forest, at the end of which we needed to descend to the river bed with a rope because of the steeply eroded valley walls consisting of loose rock and pumice. 22k into our day we stopped at the river to replenish our water and eat lunch.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo-ySoG8MC96jIOKwVn2nUMeXk4x8150U2i7edp5SVOuNy9OSCb-7zXV-T3aNkINQadjAnveKOde9wVfieDHPPRbCPcOzAlIclL-guZRZNgtfgLLF8JhzMwUOYmLbAnPELcpee8M84oiY/s1600/12177988_10100701986151869_738854378_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo-ySoG8MC96jIOKwVn2nUMeXk4x8150U2i7edp5SVOuNy9OSCb-7zXV-T3aNkINQadjAnveKOde9wVfieDHPPRbCPcOzAlIclL-guZRZNgtfgLLF8JhzMwUOYmLbAnPELcpee8M84oiY/s640/12177988_10100701986151869_738854378_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our lunch spot: the Toutle River</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG_3hU5qmjwi86ih2cOarpFtdIfIownprXVklz-x1lViiDOkf1E4-SqNVZ6touF6WrTmPMWMJN2sexu2bW2s3bVvKeqaDC0vLyKDWLnlu13LfD4_Sph5gRSdDDcBTn74RVmiUV7y3QEFQ/s1600/IMG_20151024_132522485.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG_3hU5qmjwi86ih2cOarpFtdIfIownprXVklz-x1lViiDOkf1E4-SqNVZ6touF6WrTmPMWMJN2sexu2bW2s3bVvKeqaDC0vLyKDWLnlu13LfD4_Sph5gRSdDDcBTn74RVmiUV7y3QEFQ/s640/IMG_20151024_132522485.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Initial climb out of the Toutle River Valley</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Climbing out of the river valley was one of the highlights of the day for me. We had re-fuelled and had tons of energy as we scaled our way back up the valley wall and onto a steep, narrow trail that approached the northwest flank of the volcano, with the wind whipping up ash clouds all around us. This treed section gave way to a benched trail on an insanely steep, high slope where each step sunk your foot into ash. Pretty surreal.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguO7CD_JXfHtk9p1PUOxFesvkHBrUpIyqE4aj901kSxtBjAvCYTJJI2SMAJDwmw287y7Kqu6Z_itzSB-r0bVDuO16rLhIa8EX9uAp0w9-QUJq0tHWhf6fNCPW_1m61UchXegE85nuca3g/s1600/IMG_20151024_134133247.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguO7CD_JXfHtk9p1PUOxFesvkHBrUpIyqE4aj901kSxtBjAvCYTJJI2SMAJDwmw287y7Kqu6Z_itzSB-r0bVDuO16rLhIa8EX9uAp0w9-QUJq0tHWhf6fNCPW_1m61UchXegE85nuca3g/s640/IMG_20151024_134133247.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Approaching the volcano from the northwest</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihqixTG3fDEgizhiXqn9EVivvVGLHvLGmS9CcbWZSH_euzUhMUFjfdis2HnhJ1rdlnE9MYoztdBCrNJuQSO_giVY8LbKqm9gExlbfqPGawx9HUVRK_avvNKrah5CeAyi0D0cWg6hDDM_o/s1600/IMG_20151024_134249113.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihqixTG3fDEgizhiXqn9EVivvVGLHvLGmS9CcbWZSH_euzUhMUFjfdis2HnhJ1rdlnE9MYoztdBCrNJuQSO_giVY8LbKqm9gExlbfqPGawx9HUVRK_avvNKrah5CeAyi0D0cWg6hDDM_o/s640/IMG_20151024_134249113.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There is a trail there, I swear.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As we finally crested the ridge we were approaching the north side of the volcano, where the full force of the 1980 eruption blew apart the mountain and completely denuded the landscape. We first passed through more burned trees, with great views of the volcano to our right, and then stopped in our tracks as we entered the "blast zone".</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizLBlBSqi_SMFrpX87u6l2XVEqoR2besJRO5rljUIRFba9hnkss2lZ-J-Hl_fol0aqTu6YQDZfQE3tuG8xwmDXQ3I1Hlk3lKO-Wu-HHZfY92Eda_NMrOIoA-4xmfFencQIFVSkdL6VYFE/s1600/12188587_10100701986251669_1001858982_n.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizLBlBSqi_SMFrpX87u6l2XVEqoR2besJRO5rljUIRFba9hnkss2lZ-J-Hl_fol0aqTu6YQDZfQE3tuG8xwmDXQ3I1Hlk3lKO-Wu-HHZfY92Eda_NMrOIoA-4xmfFencQIFVSkdL6VYFE/s640/12188587_10100701986251669_1001858982_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cresting the ridge on the northwest side of the mountain.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQKSCERaU_Cmz3y12AGsheise3MQsmPbRgEL-rFNTDSU6OXLQCO_Zgtjtrl7rh2r4dHUm6okA8l6OL6yXx4LxjcuprfP_ELwfEQbsoNN7c4VNVqxecjY1EMjfoXQGqzY9eMljzAaCv88/s1600/IMG_20151024_143503275_HDR.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQKSCERaU_Cmz3y12AGsheise3MQsmPbRgEL-rFNTDSU6OXLQCO_Zgtjtrl7rh2r4dHUm6okA8l6OL6yXx4LxjcuprfP_ELwfEQbsoNN7c4VNVqxecjY1EMjfoXQGqzY9eMljzAaCv88/s640/IMG_20151024_143503275_HDR.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The edge of the blast zone</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Loowit Trail is named after Loowitlatkla ("Lady of Fire"), a woman in Native American Puyallup </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Oral Traditions</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> who tended a sacred fire to which people would travel from miles around to get embers for their own fires. The </span><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Traditional Story</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> goes that Loowit, as she was known, became entangled in a love triangle in which two brothers were competing for her - this culminated in a fight where entire villages were burned and forests went up in flames. A grand chief killed all three of the lovers but felt saddened at losing them, so raised a great mountain where each of them fell. According to this </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Story</span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> (of which this is only one version), Loowit became Mount St. Helens, and the two brothers became Mount Hood and Mount Adams. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAEKO7Mc6pfVlCmZfrIUeKOKYSf8L6H_FXmVRqcl8P-f1lj4IwAPZsqiNiRR1_zEWcWdpap38UpVQJ2TeAvwHRCsO1of8FOhxfA7XgroNBMhjJPa_0QzpJm8k9W9Kzh2gG3f9FIn1Cj9I/s1600/IMG_20151024_143443718.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAEKO7Mc6pfVlCmZfrIUeKOKYSf8L6H_FXmVRqcl8P-f1lj4IwAPZsqiNiRR1_zEWcWdpap38UpVQJ2TeAvwHRCsO1of8FOhxfA7XgroNBMhjJPa_0QzpJm8k9W9Kzh2gG3f9FIn1Cj9I/s640/IMG_20151024_143443718.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking north across the other-worldly blast zone</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_kgZf9FG1V7dcxxL_iSdzV03ZKHjTN4nzK8a3o63YuYQKoHb269ec7exHFfDcvCoZiiGGgQqRaS4Rh-CZAFox_odnv5kDAITzv7BPLY5y2mApPaJTqHo2srrnnsmzSUzkcVOkEigLVg/s1600/IMG_20151024_151339056_HDR.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_kgZf9FG1V7dcxxL_iSdzV03ZKHjTN4nzK8a3o63YuYQKoHb269ec7exHFfDcvCoZiiGGgQqRaS4Rh-CZAFox_odnv5kDAITzv7BPLY5y2mApPaJTqHo2srrnnsmzSUzkcVOkEigLVg/s640/IMG_20151024_151339056_HDR.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking south across the blast zone toward "the breach" - the section of the volcano that blew apart</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Entering the blast zone, one could easily imagine how these great volcanoes inspired such Oral Traditions. Running across this landscape was like being on another planet. We traversed kilometre after kilometre of rolling, dune-like barren plains, with one stream crossing where we topped off our water supplies one last time. We took in the view of Spirit Lake, its shore littered with burned, felled trees, pushed ashore by the lake and whitewashed over time to form a ghostly looking beach. We saw a herd of at least 100 elk crossing the plains toward the lake. Borne most likely out of fatigue and waning energy, we did have a brief moment of paranoia that the elk were going to corner then trample us(!) - but unsurprisingly, this did not happen, and we continued happily on our separate ways.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4iXjJVIMt4F_gru0CmKbJnxNbMoByMXHKEY5gEIvErfLMLu_LE3QFUqpRLsJzpN6TF6Nzjxo9O12JmrSUVqXlb32lefqzaya0aJo7Pw2qkSuFuBqNjfd90_L8irrLcaPzbFhpqS23YUk/s1600/12182148_10101522440424191_1105675382_n.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4iXjJVIMt4F_gru0CmKbJnxNbMoByMXHKEY5gEIvErfLMLu_LE3QFUqpRLsJzpN6TF6Nzjxo9O12JmrSUVqXlb32lefqzaya0aJo7Pw2qkSuFuBqNjfd90_L8irrLcaPzbFhpqS23YUk/s640/12182148_10101522440424191_1105675382_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing the blast zone, with Spirit Lake in the background. Photo: Tara Berry</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYcPe31uFlpNdpnyM_lJqJsPJXEkwBCsdowfR0TewM3jzKg3sF9W_mnMxuajsQymkko9iiMv7-okp0Xxc_y1bmANDyDBByJjjeQGMazc7eDBHl2aSXSY2wGZzU-dZJ9ROjzlbKmvQCdqE/s1600/12180007_10100701986356459_989614145_n.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYcPe31uFlpNdpnyM_lJqJsPJXEkwBCsdowfR0TewM3jzKg3sF9W_mnMxuajsQymkko9iiMv7-okp0Xxc_y1bmANDyDBByJjjeQGMazc7eDBHl2aSXSY2wGZzU-dZJ9ROjzlbKmvQCdqE/s640/12180007_10100701986356459_989614145_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elk. These were the ones we thought were breaking away from the herd to corner us. Photo: Tory Scholz</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Once through the blast zone, we had to run up to a high pass on the northeast side of the mountain, which was a difficult climb at this point in the day (we had been out there for about 8.5 hours). When we reached the top the wind was unbelievably strong - we later found out that this is aptly called Windy Pass. Laughing and struggling to put our jackets on (the wind was flapping them around so much it was hard to get your arms in), we hurried down the other side onto the plains of Abraham, through which the Loowit is a lovely, gently rolling, runnable trail. At some point along this section we passed a signpost that said "June Lake Trail, 6.8 miles", and were shocked that we only had this far left in our day. It felt amazing to be running easily again, and we made good time through this section ... until we reached </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">a series of extremely challenging, sketchy gully crossings. </span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtZSylVmhfzbKnyyPzVQhwNUNvPAh8mvIjH-SRVi4dDF1ppnKT_pFKtcFJZTvzVKEGGRPEjKl4S2NsiCCoANqsRQLStz3DQXsrw0v2cbgPBztMmKdcv4nqTsI1iI3mK1JKPyUPQwpiMZs/s1600/12181770_10101522434401261_1070798133_n.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtZSylVmhfzbKnyyPzVQhwNUNvPAh8mvIjH-SRVi4dDF1ppnKT_pFKtcFJZTvzVKEGGRPEjKl4S2NsiCCoANqsRQLStz3DQXsrw0v2cbgPBztMmKdcv4nqTsI1iI3mK1JKPyUPQwpiMZs/s640/12181770_10101522434401261_1070798133_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clinging. Photo: Tara Berry</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This was the toughest part of the day for me mentally because I have quite a fear of traversing steep, slippery hills that slope downward to the side - terrain like this makes me freeze up and take ridiculously careful steps while clinging to whatever I can find that seems somewhat solid. Considering I was tired, the light was on the verge of starting to fade, and there were several of these in a row ... down, up, across, down, up, across ... it became a game of mental strength to keep going. Luckily I was out there with three of the most supportive, strong women you can imagine - and we got through it together, without incident.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixrEmMAFjO7Ot4sSFTS1LtH8nAJDhnMCi_P8ojXQBIy4Y5hmIOimVpX7fgy1xF1LWOLl2B3ZmeZdiqdieqTucsCQ6Tx3rop1gZxf7CssUyNwBnE5zueXknXV-8B-aPKjxC3vU32vS8hvs/s1600/804666_10100701986561049_1733534575_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixrEmMAFjO7Ot4sSFTS1LtH8nAJDhnMCi_P8ojXQBIy4Y5hmIOimVpX7fgy1xF1LWOLl2B3ZmeZdiqdieqTucsCQ6Tx3rop1gZxf7CssUyNwBnE5zueXknXV-8B-aPKjxC3vU32vS8hvs/s640/804666_10100701986561049_1733534575_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking east toward Mount Adams. Photo: Tory Scholz</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Once through these relentless gully crossings the sun was starting to set and we were treated to a spectacular view of Mount Adams to the east. We actually thought that our climbing was over at this point, but ended up needing to navigate another lava field on the southeast side of the mountain that never seemed to end. We finished the last 40 minutes or so of the route with our headlamps on, and were needless to say quite excited when we started running down through forested trails once more and finally reached the June Lake trailhead junction where we had started the day almost 11 hours earlier.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">This was an amazing, rugged, beautiful, challenging adventure, and only the third time in my life I've run 50k (I use the term "run" loosely here - there was definitely a lot of hiking/scrambling/climbing/clinging as well). I have the utmost respect for Mount St Helens, and am so thankful that Loowit was there to guide us and allow us to experience her incredible landscapes firsthand, on our own power. And I am forever grateful to have wonderful, strong, adventurous women like this in my life, who, like me, think that running around a volcano is the perfect way to spend a girls' weekend.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbs7x9dF20IbEnf0CsOrfO0JY4UYUyHvxkFSYy9B9oolTRR5bG7jJuShOSmSCJFA1aRE7_Y2E74MbR1Qn6YKHYKml0jjBD-OPufJpJF1gtnwCdHShB1ittWnZaFRjSO5LExycTPlBHyKM/s1600/12178011_10100701986141889_704852706_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbs7x9dF20IbEnf0CsOrfO0JY4UYUyHvxkFSYy9B9oolTRR5bG7jJuShOSmSCJFA1aRE7_Y2E74MbR1Qn6YKHYKml0jjBD-OPufJpJF1gtnwCdHShB1ittWnZaFRjSO5LExycTPlBHyKM/s640/12178011_10100701986141889_704852706_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-145940321922381462015-10-04T13:42:00.003-07:002015-10-05T05:54:31.206-07:00Getting Off the Road: My 5 Favourite Things About Being a 5 Peaks Ambassador<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The 5 Peaks racing season came to an end last weekend with a race on beautiful trails around Buntzen Lake in Port Moody. I've spent the last year acting as an Ambassador for 5 Peaks, which has been a tremendously rewarding experience in many ways. I thought that I would devote this blog post to reflecting on some of the reasons why this has been such a great gig (in no particular order):</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIoCj48H8IdAXQyTcW5XLvPMnSWC9YQpJI_3Jec6YLmfnaiHHKZdnushz9ZU1OJo1KbrpBf_xJyELzPuqmrxxQIKQAsuuBwdr6dNMdJcDzo2yctMhXE6VISla0gFe0brog2-CvOu4z0uQ/s1600/59764024-2015%252BRS%252B5%252BPeaks%252BBC%252BGolden%252BEars%252BSM-191.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIoCj48H8IdAXQyTcW5XLvPMnSWC9YQpJI_3Jec6YLmfnaiHHKZdnushz9ZU1OJo1KbrpBf_xJyELzPuqmrxxQIKQAsuuBwdr6dNMdJcDzo2yctMhXE6VISla0gFe0brog2-CvOu4z0uQ/s320/59764024-2015%252BRS%252B5%252BPeaks%252BBC%252BGolden%252BEars%252BSM-191.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1. <b>The amazing race courses</b>. I ran in three of the BC races over the spring and summer, at Golden Ears Provincial Park, Alice Lake Provincial Park, and Mt Seymour. All of these offered challenging, beautiful trails that were a joy to run on. (I also managed to race the three that had perfect weather...lucky or just good planning?). Racers had to cross streams, leap over and duck under fallen trees, navigate technical rocks and roots, and grind it out on steep climbs and descents. In short: they are perfect trail races. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzYXw_S7POApyv6odpKumTnvd80RrlgOyT3CuvUfgaCMLoE2xF0uVZmnL1jxcxrQVsUxaWMDFuQXHFdofSkmVj8NljYJPLZpF7NVftnWkQi6FW5ZNaSKYflxSTUk8JtzxVWASDxGOVfL4/s1600/21478108561_14d4c40377_o+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzYXw_S7POApyv6odpKumTnvd80RrlgOyT3CuvUfgaCMLoE2xF0uVZmnL1jxcxrQVsUxaWMDFuQXHFdofSkmVj8NljYJPLZpF7NVftnWkQi6FW5ZNaSKYflxSTUk8JtzxVWASDxGOVfL4/s320/21478108561_14d4c40377_o+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">2. <b>Witnessing people run their first trail race</b>. What an inspiring thing to be witness to. I talked to so many runners at the events who were trying trail for the first time, and reactions varied from instant love to statement like "well, I can't really say I had <i>fun</i> during the race...". The thing is, even that latter group - I guarantee - would come back for more. Trail running has a way of doing that. In the Seymour race, I came third to 2 teenage girls, one of whom was running her first trail race (which, incidentally, she won). Her enthusiasm afterward was palpable: safe to say she is well and truly hooked. And speaking of young talented runners, that brings me to:</span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">3. <b>Seeing the kids race their hearts out</b>. Each 5 Peaks race has a 1k and 3k kids race, which are usually run by the kids of racers and/or volunteers. I absolutely love seeing how excited and proud these racers are, from little tiny ones running with their parents to 10 and 11 year olds blasting through the 3k course. It's such a positive, fun atmosphere and a wonderful way to introduce kids to running, friendly competition, and the joy of spending time in nature.</span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQZEJKLhV1MvgyOjjvUPewfumV_BxiYtbLjHu9A_8J8bCWJqvOmSNbB5gXUm25JSeqNEBWWp5AWkpYXI1h_DJMKUPko87sydYOKaayPW_WZyShYxnOMfDbRig9U5zrjQ2EaK0ZomWvko/s1600/5+peaks+series.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQZEJKLhV1MvgyOjjvUPewfumV_BxiYtbLjHu9A_8J8bCWJqvOmSNbB5gXUm25JSeqNEBWWp5AWkpYXI1h_DJMKUPko87sydYOKaayPW_WZyShYxnOMfDbRig9U5zrjQ2EaK0ZomWvko/s320/5+peaks+series.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">4. <b>The inclusivity</b>. 5 Peaks honours every single runner, and I truly believe that everyone at these races comes away feeling like they are equal participants. Partly because every event has a short and a long course option, these are great races to try as a first foray into trail running. At Buntzen Lake, I didn't race but was volunteering as a sweeper for the 10k Sport course. My sweeping partner was a woman I had never met, but who had also done several races this season - in which, in her words, she finished dead last. After sweeping the course with her, I picked up the prize for winning the overall series title. We had a fantastic hike/run together, getting completely soaked in the rain and chatting the entire time about ultra running and personal stories - because, at the root of it, all trail runners are part of the same community. And with that sentiment, my final point:</span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXxyQsc4deyFhRGDYAj4k2tcCV-NYJ6gk18aefc5kVfts_ZhcQVvOgTZIboJvyqp-cZxcoZ5CmrdNN1K7RMu3GJ0Kv5uOul8fbxkqkZUQ-VDC7BEi4lCHLWJQ3y2KOuVVGAtlkYz51GjE/s1600/17639690305_6ffb0bf4bf_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXxyQsc4deyFhRGDYAj4k2tcCV-NYJ6gk18aefc5kVfts_ZhcQVvOgTZIboJvyqp-cZxcoZ5CmrdNN1K7RMu3GJ0Kv5uOul8fbxkqkZUQ-VDC7BEi4lCHLWJQ3y2KOuVVGAtlkYz51GjE/s320/17639690305_6ffb0bf4bf_o.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">5. <b>Meeting so many like-minded people</b>. Before I became a 5 Peaks Ambassador, I ran mostly on my own. This is something that I still love to do, but I also love that engaging with this community has allowed me to meet so many wonderful people, many of whom I now consider friends as well as running partners. It has led to incredible running adventures and the amazing phenomenon of participating in events (either as a racer or a volunteer) and feeling like half the people there are family.</span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As the 2015 season draws to a close, I want to thank Race Director Solana for taking me on as part of her 5 peaks team (and trail family), and of course Brendan for coming to all of my races and always being my #1 fan and supporter. People often think of running as an individual sport, which of course it largely is - but it is also a sport filled with a tremendous amount of love and support from others. I like to think that this is especially true of trail running: there is just something about getting off the road that seems to bring out the best in people. </span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">All photos courtesy of Rob Shaer.</span></div>
taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-15101995873622688792015-09-05T09:06:00.000-07:002015-09-05T13:23:29.027-07:00Squamish 50k 2015: Overcoming Obstacles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Just in case running 50k isn't challenging enough, it seems that the Squamish 50 is determined to throw additional roadblocks in the path to achieving my goals. Last year I had to undergo surgery 2 months before the race and take a subsequent 6 weeks for recovery - which meant I went into the race very undertrained. I did it anyway, with a decent time and a solid 11th place finish, but I was determined and excited to do better in 2015. I've worked so hard this year to overcome last year's health setbacks, and by the end of June was feeling fit, confident, and poised to have a major time breakthrough on the course. And then...</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOk829hA4CSzQcbhoGjNggN3ETzdDqtJTF3T0dBI-kGzTfAiVrrZyKcVqR-RbHK6ciURusyQ54DDRt5-ojB7M09NNhe08uXIKmoaaKyVHab9DrW6b4D3oc-mXUy3vGYDIoBIlCCb6jhe4/s1600/2013+Course+Map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOk829hA4CSzQcbhoGjNggN3ETzdDqtJTF3T0dBI-kGzTfAiVrrZyKcVqR-RbHK6ciURusyQ54DDRt5-ojB7M09NNhe08uXIKmoaaKyVHab9DrW6b4D3oc-mXUy3vGYDIoBIlCCb6jhe4/s400/2013+Course+Map.jpg" width="285" /></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When I broke my wrist and banged up my knee last month in a bike crash, I was instantly worried that I wouldn't be able to run. This race</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> is no walk in the park: with a course that has 2500 m of elevation gain and 2750 m of descent, runners are guaranteed to be either running up or down technical mountain forest trails for the entire 50 kilometres. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The accident happened exactly 5 weeks before race day, and my thoughts were once again consumed with unknowns: Could I recover in that time? </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Would I lose too much fitness while I waited to heal? </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Would my arm be in a cast for the race? If so, would I be able to run downhill fast without the fear of falling and doing more damage? </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I couldn't run - or even walk well, for that matter - for the first 10 days after the crash because I had stitches in my knee and elbow; once those were removed and I could run again, my wrist seemed to just be a bit achy, but it was clear that my knee was not in good shape. 3 1/2 weeks before the race, I went for a trial hike/run with a friend up Legacy Climb trail, one of the major ascents on the course - and had pain in my knee the entire time I was climbing. Not a good sign. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq_BKLn1hXgGlG4YS6YFHMIh0nuZHnO3WZnB96ZSdVHsQ9UUf2WrNye2wEatCR6ynI5_1CnjU_9wYKwtzxrWnPRpDPXe0paZaU6tHPFmP4vDYtbw74PYKsUrnqmWpzllhOStx3wgpzCMo/s1600/cast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq_BKLn1hXgGlG4YS6YFHMIh0nuZHnO3WZnB96ZSdVHsQ9UUf2WrNye2wEatCR6ynI5_1CnjU_9wYKwtzxrWnPRpDPXe0paZaU6tHPFmP4vDYtbw74PYKsUrnqmWpzllhOStx3wgpzCMo/s320/cast.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Discouraged, I started seeing a physio, who tried just about everything: IMS, acupuncture, ultrasound, massage, and a crazy hip adjustment that had her almost yanking me clear off the table. I was going out for only short runs, and diligently foam rolling and stretching at home. (note: foam rolling is no easy task with your arm in a cast!). And slowly, I started to feel better. I had a few encouraging runs of ~90 minutes with minimal pain ... and although that is about 5 1/2 hrs short of how long the race would take me, some hope started to creep back in. 2 weeks before the race, my cast came off and was replaced with a much sleeker, lighter, removable splint. I went for a run on Mountain of Phlegm, which is the tough 10k section at the end of the race, and I felt strong and pain-free (if a bit slow). I knew then that I could finish the 50k, and that I would just need to modify my time goal from 6 1/2 hours to 7. If worse came to worse, I would hike as much of the race as necessary to get to that finish line. In short, it was on.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7jL5j-wGfrr0ZM2eSbkYVg6qlNqv9ZaBdnSukvJ8nFGBms4lc3t4E3ak2TQUo5REQUA7WYKS7C6NUMlnU6awEaf5Nm1nbPWk98AeS86OwYn-FsLwoQsROIrSLUIV17z9JzuOQEs_oHs8/s1600/Fools+Gold.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7jL5j-wGfrr0ZM2eSbkYVg6qlNqv9ZaBdnSukvJ8nFGBms4lc3t4E3ak2TQUo5REQUA7WYKS7C6NUMlnU6awEaf5Nm1nbPWk98AeS86OwYn-FsLwoQsROIrSLUIV17z9JzuOQEs_oHs8/s320/Fools+Gold.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Relieved the back pain has gone - 4.5 hrs into the race</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Race day dawned cool and clear, and all my anxieties and fears were washed away and replaced with the excitement of lining up at the start and running all morning on my favourite trails. I reminded myself that this is what I love to do, and that my finish time really didn't matter: what mattered was just that I was out there running. I wasn't going to let the fear of falling on my wrist deter me from running the way I always do. I ran into the Quest aid station at roughly halfway through the race in exactly the same time as last year, but feeling much better. I set out for Legacy Climb trail feeling confident, but a completely unexpected disaster struck as I began to climb: my lower back kept erupting into spasms that were incredibly painful. I have no idea where this came from, and was honestly considering dropping out of the race at the next aid station if things didn't get better. It took me a full hour to reach the top of the trail, and I was pretty much in agony the entire time. Miraculously though, as soon as I started running downhill, the pain completely went away, and never came back for the remainder of the race. Just another little challenge thrown in there I guess, in case I was getting bored...</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJs2oDlrqkBNpvAku910nIMV7evlsIBozY7BMML6KBZeYUJVBoh0XMPd0TGHFA_yBFQzsNbsSLpi9xjg0XuPp8WiTaXp8cDfZr-eu2NbQkITOctM2zJveXdyyNVvYMiDhv9v_pH2ipEdI/s1600/Finish1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJs2oDlrqkBNpvAku910nIMV7evlsIBozY7BMML6KBZeYUJVBoh0XMPd0TGHFA_yBFQzsNbsSLpi9xjg0XuPp8WiTaXp8cDfZr-eu2NbQkITOctM2zJveXdyyNVvYMiDhv9v_pH2ipEdI/s320/Finish1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steps before the finish line</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The last 10 miles of the race were a bit of a blur. I do know that I felt much, much stronger than last year; although I was obviously tiring, I was having almost none of the leg muscle pain that I was dealing with in my first attempt at this distance. An extra year of experience running on these trails (getting "mountain legs", as Brendan calls it), as well as having a much more solid base of long training runs this year, was paying off. I passed a number of people in this section, especially on the downhills where familiarity with the trails and terrain is a big advantage. I knew that I was consistently picking up time on my 2014 splits, and was moving up in the standings (I left Quest as the 18th woman, and ended up 11th). In the end, I ran 6h55, bettering my 2014 time by 18 minutes. Funny enough, I finished in the same position as last year despite the faster time: the women were incredibly strong this year and it was amazing to be in a field of such great runners.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I've had a couple weeks now to reflect on this experience, and as usual have learned a few valuable lessons. Initially, it seemed like such a blow to sustain those injuries 5 weeks before the race - but I actually think the accident was a kind of blessing in disguise. As I wrote in my last blog post, when I broke my wrist I had been feeling run down and tired for about a week, and my legs weren't recovering well from my last long run of 40k. It is very possible I was headed toward being burnt out or injured, and the bike crash forced me to take the down time that my body probably needed. As a friend commented, it was a hell of a way for my body to get my attention - but then again I am not always the best "listener"; this is something I am actively working on. Although I was worried about losing fitness, and especially missing a last long run before the race, in reality I had plenty of endurance and strength going in and was only lacking a bit of speed (which is a relative term anyway, in a 50k race!). I had put in over 1500 km of running since January, with over 40,000 m of elevation gain - I needed to put my trust in that training, and have the confidence that it would pull me through.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiasoKwm0ADjD6yJqOPPVVnnRuLEdK62CTrev7ZmKHl0Wo-pnlB-Kubbe8d5mYoEFmXje_3jOO_RDg28pn0ylAc9p-XbmW9STyIGthHtdEThjNfg9_AkhoCuif0tPsQ3abD91fnMYe4sCo/s1600/the-greater-the-obstacle-the-more-glory-in-overcoming-it-quote-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiasoKwm0ADjD6yJqOPPVVnnRuLEdK62CTrev7ZmKHl0Wo-pnlB-Kubbe8d5mYoEFmXje_3jOO_RDg28pn0ylAc9p-XbmW9STyIGthHtdEThjNfg9_AkhoCuif0tPsQ3abD91fnMYe4sCo/s320/the-greater-the-obstacle-the-more-glory-in-overcoming-it-quote-1.jpg" width="270" /></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Do I still think I could go faster on that course, without any setbacks leading up to the race? Absolutely. But the thing is, it is very rare that everything goes perfectly in training. I know this from years of experience training for marathons; in 10 races, only once did everything go completely according to plan (and that was the race where I set my current PB). Rather than wondering what could have been, I think a more useful way to reflect is this: there will <i>always</i> be obstacles, in some form or another. It is how you deal with them that matters; whether you decide to </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">let them get the better of you, or to </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">embrace and work with them. I've now had to adjust my goals for the Squamish 50k both years that I've run it - but both years, it has been an incredibly meaningful and proud moment for me to cross that finish line. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Obstacles? Overcome.</span></div>
taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-70332983223632420142015-07-19T07:48:00.000-07:002015-07-19T11:34:28.939-07:00Taking a Step Back to Move Forward<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's been quite the weekend, and it's hard to know where to start this story. How's this: Yesterday was the Canadian National Mountain Running Championships at Cypress Mountain, which I was thrilled to have qualified to run - but I didn't run it. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">How could I pass up an experience like that? </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It boils down to something quite simple: I'm exhausted. For the last ten days, my body has been asking me in subtle ways to back off my running and rest for a while. I've been mostly listening, too - I've only run about 50km total in those 10 days, and have taken many more days off than normal - but I am now certain that this is not what my body means by backing off. On Friday I made the tough decision to not race Nationals, and take a full 7-10 days off running. My #1 goal race for this year is the Squamish 50k in 5 weeks, and I wanted to do everything I can to get to that start line healthy, fresh, and ready to go.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia7i170qVzX0iMMLlhSZIenYvsd07yd2OWdPi8-dR9IsvpwJuoqpPtD0t2aVXxlYsoHFYpOs9LAmizs5zOKwk7ror_CN5UX9e2bN0Z_T_BxLYcKGAyiEMJbiuGOc9Raz86K8SxblmcUQI/s1600/IMG_20150718_203330.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia7i170qVzX0iMMLlhSZIenYvsd07yd2OWdPi8-dR9IsvpwJuoqpPtD0t2aVXxlYsoHFYpOs9LAmizs5zOKwk7ror_CN5UX9e2bN0Z_T_BxLYcKGAyiEMJbiuGOc9Raz86K8SxblmcUQI/s320/IMG_20150718_203330.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So I went for a casual mountain bike ride yesterday morning instead - and promptly crashed in such spectacular fashion that I ended up with a broken wrist, and a banged up knee and elbow that required 7 stitches between them. In typical Squamish style, everyone (including the nurses and doctor at the hospital) keeps asking me which trail I was on. The answer? About the most non-technical one you could imagine (Mashiter, for those who really just need to know). It's not even <i>really</i> a trail, not by Squamish standards - just more of a connector that I run on every.single.day from home to GET to the trails. I am very cautious on the bike normally, and on this particular downhill I always inch my way down, but as a result never make it up the hill that immediately follows ... so yesterday, for some reason, I decided to throw caution to the wind and barrel down, trying to get enough momentum to launch myself up the other side. Well, I launched myself all right - just not quite in the way I had intended.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Note to self: when you're not particularly skilled at something, throwing caution to the wind is *probably* not the wisest course of action.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsKsuj6eVzFjcDC5P7oCs7w0TtIwTlLSYUl0nH59QsoC7GHSGqWfj4yhxBa8rSU6JJyybgQejgsqoBHyxdQL7oPF71TiIS0a3IfKMfdYIlS2oJX7Z9awXj_1EVC3jvvfSAl3ahLGq0s6o/s1600/image1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsKsuj6eVzFjcDC5P7oCs7w0TtIwTlLSYUl0nH59QsoC7GHSGqWfj4yhxBa8rSU6JJyybgQejgsqoBHyxdQL7oPF71TiIS0a3IfKMfdYIlS2oJX7Z9awXj_1EVC3jvvfSAl3ahLGq0s6o/s320/image1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running the Iceline Trail in Yoho National Park</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Anyway. Of course my first thought, even through the shock and adrenaline, was "what if I can't run the Squamish 50 now?" I would, for so many reasons, be devastated. I was training for that race last year when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, and had to run it completely undertrained because of 6 weeks off recovering from my first surgery when I should have been peaking in mileage. I then had to take 3 more months off running after my second surgery, and worked so hard to get back into shape - only to drop out of the Vancouver marathon in May, because I had a nagging injury and didn't want to risk my trail racing season. And sure enough I've had a fantastic trail season so far; some great race results and amazing running adventures in beautiful places with wonderful people. My heart is so full - but dammit, I want to run that race! It's such an important one for me and I knew I'd be poised to have a great run this year.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The silver lining, I suppose, is that (as I mentioned) I was already planning on taking 7-10 days off. That coincides with when the stitches come out ... and I am told that I can run with a cast on. I have difficulty picturing it on these trails with the amount of arm flailing that goes on running downhill - but we'll see. I remain hopeful, but not ignorantly so. I'll listen to my body; I just really hope it tells me to run. And if it does, you'll see me out there in 5 weeks racing that 50k. I'll be the one with the cast on my arm and a big grin on my face.</span>taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-58685231448870483042015-05-25T21:16:00.000-07:002017-06-02T10:39:47.427-07:00Taking Things in Stride<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">One year and a couple days ago, I wrote a <a href="http://in-thelongrun.blogspot.ca/2014/05/staying-course.html" target="_blank">blog post</a> about having just been diagnosed with breast cancer. It is almost hard to believe that a year has passed, and equally hard to fully process everything I have experienced in the last 12 months. It is amazing how much my mental well-being is tied to running - I think I have always known this on some level, but never fully appreciated it until being forced to take so much time off over the last year while simultaneously dealing with so many uncertainties and unfamiliar situations. I often refer to running as "my happy place"; it sounds cutesy but is utterly true. I am so grateful to have been able to log over 1000 km already in 2015 (with 22,000 m of total elevation gain!): the more time I spend on these trails, the more at peace I become with everything else in my life.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLvD99ogDRWXCSyDZipauxIsmTJzTt1X0ql1m3gRI1T580Rx1UTphTvXv-WrSj6j6ilWVdXMrQb1boRLXi_e6t3ob3Lobw-UTLCN4_KdF-jRWm254LJMeQHSDbJzLtRx75AssEvnsSjZ4/s1600/Running+LTL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLvD99ogDRWXCSyDZipauxIsmTJzTt1X0ql1m3gRI1T580Rx1UTphTvXv-WrSj6j6ilWVdXMrQb1boRLXi_e6t3ob3Lobw-UTLCN4_KdF-jRWm254LJMeQHSDbJzLtRx75AssEvnsSjZ4/s640/Running+LTL.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">About 6k into Loop the Lakes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In that 2014 post, I was getting ready to run the Loop the Lakes 21k trail race - which I just ran again this past weekend. This race last year was my first foray into BC trail racing, and I was excited to run it again with more experience under my belt. This year I knocked about 4 minutes off my previous time, and improved from placing 7th to 2nd female. I am especially pleased with the result in light of my DNF in the marathon earlier this month: because I didn't keep pushing through that hamstring/nerve injury, I was able to get back to running and racing fairly quickly (after about a week of rehab and rest). </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ending up on the podium this weekend, as well as at the 5 Peaks Golden Ears race two weeks ago, has cemented in my mind that the difficult decision to drop out of the marathon was the right call.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl4OYmK5pqw4PnYa9LfnPp8z-oTqmfgsYQQkPTDVEGlonK8UOLA4P80w0G5RJxvvXRXvUGbiLbO-j_jDDIo0zMG2AUKpAtO4LFdr7WaFGMz1J8N-Vb41zlNbZnE27o0SOppspKojXYbPQ/s1600/59764024-2015%252BRS%252B5%252BPeaks%252BBC%252BGolden%252BEars%252BSM-191.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl4OYmK5pqw4PnYa9LfnPp8z-oTqmfgsYQQkPTDVEGlonK8UOLA4P80w0G5RJxvvXRXvUGbiLbO-j_jDDIo0zMG2AUKpAtO4LFdr7WaFGMz1J8N-Vb41zlNbZnE27o0SOppspKojXYbPQ/s640/59764024-2015%252BRS%252B5%252BPeaks%252BBC%252BGolden%252BEars%252BSM-191.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Attempting to "leap" over a fallen tree at 5 Peaks Golden Ears</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My training is now fully focused on trails for the rest of the summer, and I have quite a busy calendar. I'll be running several 5 Peaks and Coast Mountain Trail Series races - all of these are shorter distances and are really just "fast" (note the quotes) workouts as I train toward my main goal race for this year, the Squamish 50k in August. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy2rlaLA6RSPde35F9f_cIQp6UtHe1h6gDIP5iPPDhM2Sw5rsjmjYGmBgLCgzMmNW-baIOdjitc4Gkxmki1s8cmw4bzMlrBTwDx1BBjhn_fFj8fNkL5WE7SrWcqSGkmDX-TQCR49sJIVk/s1600/4Lakes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy2rlaLA6RSPde35F9f_cIQp6UtHe1h6gDIP5iPPDhM2Sw5rsjmjYGmBgLCgzMmNW-baIOdjitc4Gkxmki1s8cmw4bzMlrBTwDx1BBjhn_fFj8fNkL5WE7SrWcqSGkmDX-TQCR49sJIVk/s640/4Lakes.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Happy Place</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I ultimately want to work my way up to the 50-mile distance next spring, which even I can't actually believe I am saying. The thing is, training for and running in these ultra-length races is such a gift for me. It allows me to spend hours on the trails that I love so deeply, and those hours are the time carved out of my day during which I can be fully in tune with myself. It is self-centred time, and I mean that in the best sense of the term: it allows me to centre on taking care of my mental and physical health. Trail running is part of my path to healing; it is natural therapy. The more I run, the further I test my limits and endurance, the more sure-footed I become, both literally and figuratively. One thing I have learned over the last year is this: There are so many things in life that are out of our control - but in the long run, the best we can do is learn to take them all in stride.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-6541320336648513652015-05-03T19:16:00.000-07:002015-09-05T13:27:33.244-07:00Beginnings <span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I wish that I was writing this blog post with news of a fantastic marathon today. I wish that I could say I ran a PB and crossed the finish line smiling. Hell, I wish that I could say I crossed the finish line.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG1bHaphxsz11Wb9v8Wtfb1PWjzo2hkua5j3R8iG7KXS6sn1u8RZHUTLTW8pmfxuhfPWL7uOwceyMnWsGfSx2tFOqxiZFAeA0gsywDW3H0XXvpOhdObzt7dlXfJ2zeAyHaNTGLtuuRV3o/s1600/vanstart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG1bHaphxsz11Wb9v8Wtfb1PWjzo2hkua5j3R8iG7KXS6sn1u8RZHUTLTW8pmfxuhfPWL7uOwceyMnWsGfSx2tFOqxiZFAeA0gsywDW3H0XXvpOhdObzt7dlXfJ2zeAyHaNTGLtuuRV3o/s1600/vanstart.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Today was not the triumphant return to marathoning that I had hoped and trained my heart out for. I have never felt this fit in my marathon build-up before and, as I publicly stated in my last post, I was fully planning on gunning for a personal best time. So what happened? Well, a week before race day I started feeling twinges in my left hamstring when running - nothing major, but enough to change my stride a bit. I thought it was just part of those mystery aches and pains that always crop up during the taper, so I didn't worry too much about it at first. By Wednesday, my entire left leg was aching constantly and the hamstring pain was actually preventing me from running. I went to a couple desperation acupuncture treatment sessions, where it became clear that the nerves from my lower back down through the back of my legs were badly flared up, and more likely the cause of the pain than the actual muscles. By two days before the race, my original symptoms had eased a bit, but I was periodically (while walking, running, or even just standing still) getting sudden, searing pain high up in my hamstring that actually made me gasp out loud and almost fall over.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Not the best way to be starting a marathon.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">You may be wondering - why did I start? (Aside from the obvious fact that I am just really stubborn). I started this marathon because it is what I have been working toward for 4 months. I started because 7 months ago today, I had a major surgery that left me unsure of my own body and unable to run at all for 12 weeks - and this race was supposed to represent the end of all of that. I started because I didn't know what might happen, once I got into a good rhythm and was warmed up - and I didn't want to <i>not</i> start, and always be wondering what would have happened.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">What happened, unfortunately but somewhat predictably, was that the pain never went away. It flared up repeatedly throughout the first 10k of the race. Frustratingly, I was easily able to maintain my goal pace - my fitness was there, no doubt - but I kept getting (almost literally) tripped up by this terrible electric shock-type spasm that would happen suddenly and then pass, but leave a dull ache behind. I knew without a doubt that if I continued running on that leg, it would only get worse as the kilometres ticked by. I thought about the exciting season of trail races that I have planned, and I thought hard about whether it would be worth it to try to run through the pain to finish this marathon and risk losing a good part of my summer running to an injury that I had just made much, much worse. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">It wouldn't be worth it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">And so I dropped out of the race, at 10.2 k. Brendan was there supporting me, and as soon as I saw him I burst into tears. Why? Because I don't like not finishing what I start. Because I was upset that this race that I had worked so hard to get to was over, almost before it even started. And because I had built this day up in my mind to be so significant, such an achievement, that when it didn't turn out the way I had visualized, I just didn't know what else to do.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1wclh9tg4SmlGyVCkSs387uwyvxCJqtXEJVXigeAo4qSg1dlXmAx7fHKEvck-gamyCuU_-QchvpQr06mDPL78LKp1NwYCm5f-9LBCTIihlwt3pI0qIBw4BQW76BWPtfmWqnjEDXRXGy0/s1600/Quotation-T-S-Eliot-beginning-Meetville-Quotes-173962.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1wclh9tg4SmlGyVCkSs387uwyvxCJqtXEJVXigeAo4qSg1dlXmAx7fHKEvck-gamyCuU_-QchvpQr06mDPL78LKp1NwYCm5f-9LBCTIihlwt3pI0qIBw4BQW76BWPtfmWqnjEDXRXGy0/s1600/Quotation-T-S-Eliot-beginning-Meetville-Quotes-173962.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And yet.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I did get to that start line, in probably the best shape of my life. I had an incredible training cycle loaded with personal best times on long runs and workouts, and I had an enormous amount of fun doing it. As I said in my last post, I feel strong, healthy and happy again - and maybe that is all I really needed. Maybe just getting to the start of that marathon was enough, for now.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Am I still disappointed? Of course. It was a perfect day out there, and I would have loved to crush that race. But it's over - and this is where I start again. </span>taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-48243129612149935792015-04-25T21:20:00.000-07:002015-04-26T08:46:34.785-07:00Achieving Goals: The Cake, and The Icing<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCD4fodKouD0m6b6WWUFB9mjabT3vfUGrudWJ1qS6IFWyWNWnhjh4xkeLHuUl_PAzUjSnJSOKWJ78OXYIrRoRfcyr1PhpBH3iZe5_-zKxFqNnCmzGI5Qpf7Q4FVk4TwzCKDbIrpxQRJRc/s1600/Screen+shot+2015-04-25+at+3.38.29+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCD4fodKouD0m6b6WWUFB9mjabT3vfUGrudWJ1qS6IFWyWNWnhjh4xkeLHuUl_PAzUjSnJSOKWJ78OXYIrRoRfcyr1PhpBH3iZe5_-zKxFqNnCmzGI5Qpf7Q4FVk4TwzCKDbIrpxQRJRc/s1600/Screen+shot+2015-04-25+at+3.38.29+PM.png" height="275" width="400" /></a></div>
</blockquote>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm running the BMO Vancouver Marathon in 8 days. All the work is done until race day: now the focus is on tapering my mileage and run intensity in order to recover from 3 months of hard training, and to get back what I like to think of as "bouncy legs". I am a goal-driven person, so what gets me through the training - aside from the fact that I just really love running - is knowing what I am working towards. I always have goals for races I am heading into (assuming I have some experience with the distance and/or course); these are essentially based on what time I </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">really</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> want to be able to run, tempered by how my training cycle has gone. I was at a bit of a disadvantage coming into this training after a 3-month layoff, but I am pleased with how my fitness has progressed. 2 weeks ago I ran my highest ever mileage week (91k), and my pace-specific workouts have mostly gone well - with a couple inevitable exceptions when I had less-than-stellar days out there.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpRb6xzrRMcgZokad3vcjtwlGyLtFlJ9BFvQznBlPgyVaSs2jnMQmevSZETVjGg_Vtwi2IIzdXZ9b-glQ_cn2K4m_sM5i462tFiRtXK5BTa6bLSE6N1Ryjdu-WbHOiRK7cyIv4L7Nqsqs/s1600/RunVan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpRb6xzrRMcgZokad3vcjtwlGyLtFlJ9BFvQznBlPgyVaSs2jnMQmevSZETVjGg_Vtwi2IIzdXZ9b-glQ_cn2K4m_sM5i462tFiRtXK5BTa6bLSE6N1Ryjdu-WbHOiRK7cyIv4L7Nqsqs/s1600/RunVan.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, what are my goals for this race? Last week I sat down and pored over my training log to see where I thought my fitness was, and to write down three goals, for what I'll call my "A" "B" and "C" race. Which one I ultimately achieve will depend on those impossible to predict race-day factors like weather and simply how I'm feeling on May 3rd. My big wish (the A goal - and, of course, the hardest to reach) for this marathon is to run a personal best time. This means I would need to dip under 3:24, which I ran in the Montreal Marathon in 2007 (8 years ago, yikes!). This equates to a pace per kilometre under 4.50, which is no easy task for me over 42.2 k. I've had some encouraging workouts where I have sustained this pace; but, of course, these runs have all been (relatively) short and it remains to be seen whether I can maintain this over the entire marathon. I'm sure going to go out there and try my hardest, but there is a good chance it won't be pretty.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglDmA6ptJ7SOw5ehefDrM9iqm_glfMdR_cTvBuYTmqNlk0_EnF6d9fZ0J5RLhhbdSlmXJrjMHaV2X0QLZ3s5GVM3v2Iiu60KfezBaQHojRzZdT5ABof287aLyXgMqWVgStX5Na80JaNM0/s1600/seawall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglDmA6ptJ7SOw5ehefDrM9iqm_glfMdR_cTvBuYTmqNlk0_EnF6d9fZ0J5RLhhbdSlmXJrjMHaV2X0QLZ3s5GVM3v2Iiu60KfezBaQHojRzZdT5ABof287aLyXgMqWVgStX5Na80JaNM0/s1600/seawall.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Stanley Park Seawall, 8k from the Finish</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My B outcome will be going sub-3:30. This is no walk in the park either, but I think this goal is slightly more realistic while still being a time I'd be very happy with running. I've only gone under 3:30 in 2 out of the 9 marathons I've run, but my training has gone more smoothly than for most of those other races (mind you, I am not getting any younger!). And speaking of which, my C goal is to re-qualify for the Boston Marathon, for which I need to run sub-3:45 (this is my first year in the 40-45 age group; my qualifying time has been bumped up by 5 minutes! I once read that the only group of people who are happy to get older are marathon runners trying to qualify for Boston). </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Once I had written and was reviewing these goals I was struck with the realization that they are, understandably, all time-based. That is pretty much par for the course with running, but when I look deeper down I know I have had some bigger picture, more important goals for this race as well - most of which I am proud to have already achieved. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I set this target of running a marathon 7 months (to the day) after my surgery for several reasons: because I wanted to see if I could; because it gave me something challenging yet life-affirming to focus on; and because I know that running heals me from the inside-out. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Now, a week before the race, I am confident that I can do it - and am so incredibly thankful to feel like </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">myself</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> again, which is something that a cancer diagnosis and the subsequent treatment takes away from you, for a while. Running helps me to reclaim control of my body and to honour what it can do, as opposed to fearing what can happen to it. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7U9U2sEyV3ycLbf5Lxms1W4LKQxdQs_fnaV_fOQjEsFI3tszfT3PnHTnKtzAKxKhivHFvY2Wvn9OQ7BXMNPWlVLFC2kOK8JI6BcANKNUA0dl7wAzPFHFIUtjwTAM9Z0MfnlVBSWa0Itg/s1600/IMG_20141009_093139974.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7U9U2sEyV3ycLbf5Lxms1W4LKQxdQs_fnaV_fOQjEsFI3tszfT3PnHTnKtzAKxKhivHFvY2Wvn9OQ7BXMNPWlVLFC2kOK8JI6BcANKNUA0dl7wAzPFHFIUtjwTAM9Z0MfnlVBSWa0Itg/s1600/IMG_20141009_093139974.jpg" height="180" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">5 days post-surgery, October 2014</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1mY6MazqINu4W1cV8o6FKFF2iYc92Df_pP2RSsjq-ngIz9E8KjjSQrw8Fb2pj5GKX1NEwglbwE_Dr3r1z8fI7YTOBKygAPOv-p8w6UW1faBIKxRhMsiyWPhOLSuv5par9K5dEqyy4gf8/s1600/IMG_20150419_114343353.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1mY6MazqINu4W1cV8o6FKFF2iYc92Df_pP2RSsjq-ngIz9E8KjjSQrw8Fb2pj5GKX1NEwglbwE_Dr3r1z8fI7YTOBKygAPOv-p8w6UW1faBIKxRhMsiyWPhOLSuv5par9K5dEqyy4gf8/s1600/IMG_20150419_114343353.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mid-15k run, April 2015</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: center;">I'm reminded of this quote by one of my favourite philosophers, Henry David Thoreau: </span><br />
<i style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"></i><br />
<i style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"></i>
<i style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"></i><i style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;">"What you get by achieving your goals is not as important as what you become by achieving your goals</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;">". </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">By training for this marathon, by chasing these running goals as well as other goals in my life since that diagnosis, I have once more become the person I want to see in the mirror. I feel confident, strong, and healthy - and have let go of</span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(most of) the fear, sadness and pain I held 7 months ago. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, my most important goals for the BMO Vancouver Marathon: To enjoy and appreciate every single step of it, even when I am hurting and feel like I can't possibly go one step farther. To celebrate that by running to that finish line (no matter how long it takes me), I am achieving something pretty awesome. As for A, B, and C? Well, those will be icing on the cake.</span>taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009890824007260211.post-83953957491153212382015-04-03T20:34:00.000-07:002015-04-04T08:12:50.203-07:00Milestones and Moments<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Milestone</b> (noun):</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1. a stone pillar that shows the distance in miles to or from a place;</span><br />
<br />
<header class="main-header oneClick-disabled head-big" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block;"><div class="header-row header-middle-row" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 25px;">
<div class="pronounce" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></div>
<div class="pronounce" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2. a significant event in life, history, etc.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0S2hPbmB0NA-WdP-yvk-iYIjnqcBAZhTGU17mj8ODh4bOWt_0qDAzOoA9CwRBlotV4GKYp6wZHasRyb-ZnaH9e74UygmUJfVtiEnayhNmwtOXVFb1x6pwBdGiI1aJorvkvljFkGDqIrs/s1600/IMG_20150317_132500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0S2hPbmB0NA-WdP-yvk-iYIjnqcBAZhTGU17mj8ODh4bOWt_0qDAzOoA9CwRBlotV4GKYp6wZHasRyb-ZnaH9e74UygmUJfVtiEnayhNmwtOXVFb1x6pwBdGiI1aJorvkvljFkGDqIrs/s1600/IMG_20150317_132500.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">English Bay Inukshuk, Vancouver</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="pronounce" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I've been thinking a lot about milestones lately, in both contexts of the definition. Today marks 6 months since my breast cancer surgery; one month from today I run the BMO Vancouver Marathon, which will be my tenth; 16 years ago this month I ran my first, the Big Sur International Marathon. I've been reflecting on the fact that I trained for that race on some of the same routes that I am running now (I was living in Vancouver at the time, but only for one year): the English Bay Inukshuk was and is a landmark I love passing on long runs when I am heading toward the Stanley Park Seawall loop. </span></div>
<div class="pronounce" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="pronounce" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When I signed up for Big Sur in 1999, I was 24 years old and a regular runner; I had run several 10k's and one half marathon, but had no idea how to train for a race this long. I ended up borrowing a marathon training book that my neighbour happened to have, and followed the program in it. I can't recall what the book was (it was not a well known training guide!), but I do know that it was only a 9-week training schedule, and basically had me building mileage that peaked at a 20-mile long run 3 weeks before the race. I have a clear memory of the first day I ran 14 miles, the longest I had ever run - it seemed so amazing that I could cover that much ground on my own two feet. It was an exciting time, because after that 14-mile benchmark, <i>every</i> long run was the longest I had ever gone. I set my goal for the marathon at 4 hrs, and finished the race in 4:01, elated, proud, and exhausted - but already convinced I could improve that time.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisGObwIDgL17gZbSGW5Rd9bSAu15od6WFEweo4q-87rccMh6aPJ7HwugmuVzplsOxL9ZjjZoDlbheh2vi6Tp8AKbnnnvY1u7RFh9OdCTZIYqX_Ee7wc7uMEvBNP0Vlasf4cd3h0_kVHSQ/s1600/IMG_20150324_173256.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisGObwIDgL17gZbSGW5Rd9bSAu15od6WFEweo4q-87rccMh6aPJ7HwugmuVzplsOxL9ZjjZoDlbheh2vi6Tp8AKbnnnvY1u7RFh9OdCTZIYqX_Ee7wc7uMEvBNP0Vlasf4cd3h0_kVHSQ/s1600/IMG_20150324_173256.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Siwash Rock, Stanley Park</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So, what has changed in the 16 years since that first marathon? I'm older and (presumably) wiser of course, have earned some battle scars, and have grown into a better and faster runner. I have tweaked my training through trial and error to what I know works for me, and have so far knocked 37 minutes off my Big Sur time to my current PB of 3:24. I now train for 12 weeks, after building a solid mileage base, go 20+ miles for a long run at least 2-3 times during my training, and incorporate weekly speed and marathon-pace workouts. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I still use some of the same strategies I developed all those years ago, however: for example, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I make long runs (and the marathon itself) more mentally manageable by dividing them into small increments. My current 20 mile route in Vancouver takes me past the iconic Siwash Rock at almost exactly the halfway point, which was unintentional route planning but gives me a boost every time I reach that mark. In the marathon itself, I separate the race into 5-k chunks and focus on each of those in turn. I still have a huge amount of respect for the marathon, which is something I gained in that very first one. I consider every marathon I've trained for and raced an incredible life experience; I can remember quite vividly certain moments from each of these races.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWCoILT1p9DnVeDiysior03PlhKxVlz-xi-2j-i6VGJZACp74fENbvixp-Mtu5TvoJYdClf2plJPqLNO1TXL3Ru6pG0OcTNd-Ow7sYqYB457iczpgvB7Lp69bwVDGVmhFBMh2-dHR3KMs/s1600/IMG_20150403_175643684.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWCoILT1p9DnVeDiysior03PlhKxVlz-xi-2j-i6VGJZACp74fENbvixp-Mtu5TvoJYdClf2plJPqLNO1TXL3Ru6pG0OcTNd-Ow7sYqYB457iczpgvB7Lp69bwVDGVmhFBMh2-dHR3KMs/s1600/IMG_20150403_175643684.jpg" height="256" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">9 Marathon Milestones in My Running Life</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That's the thing, though - what I remember are <i>moments</i>. I remember throwing my gummy bears away near the end of Toronto because they felt like they were too heavy in my pocket; I remember a bystander near the Botanical Gardens in Montreal yelling at me that I was the 12th woman; I remember the kind couple handing out freezies in Boston from a makeshift aid station in their driveway. All of these marathons were certainly milestones in my running life - but it's the many miles of small moments in time that are what really matter, because they are what make up the <i>experience</i>. </span></div>
</div>
</header><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRc8NEt7oEHhWe4_fep8od2fa0vDGnXSAYJ9vb3pgif2Gg9a3f4u9YiDiLgNeJMNZzMEP6wPOFxSTNZLv_0SfHKxOQ0fDn-XoMcF65rqQqTzz4YX-lP9CbFAv9UIzba5V8bdtGoA79nWM/s1600/life-isnt-a-matter-of-milestones-but-of-moments-quote-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRc8NEt7oEHhWe4_fep8od2fa0vDGnXSAYJ9vb3pgif2Gg9a3f4u9YiDiLgNeJMNZzMEP6wPOFxSTNZLv_0SfHKxOQ0fDn-XoMcF65rqQqTzz4YX-lP9CbFAv9UIzba5V8bdtGoA79nWM/s1600/life-isnt-a-matter-of-milestones-but-of-moments-quote-1.jpg" height="320" width="274" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Rose Kennedy once said that "Life isn't a matter of milestones, but of moments". I do think that milestones have their place - they can give us a point of reference, or a goal to achieve - and yet this quote resonates with me. I recognize how far I've come in these 6 months since my surgery and appreciate that I am ostensibly cancer free, and I will continue to celebrate these time markers. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In running, I acknowledge milestones as both literal mile markers on the run, and significant events like the races I am training for. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What would be a mistake, though, is to recognize only those big events without mindfully enjoying and appreciating the many steps that make up the journey in between them. It is, after all, those hundreds of thousands of moments that life is made of. Those moments in the last 16 years have made me the runner (and person) I am today, and they make up the experience I will carry with me, both into the marathon on May 3 and as I continue on life's journey.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><br />
<div style="color: black; font-family: Times; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Moment</b> (noun):</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="color: black; font-family: Times; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1. a very brief period of time;</span></span></span></div>
<div style="color: black; font-family: Times; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2. importance.</span></span></span></div>
taratrailshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15908915768064401528noreply@blogger.com0