Sometimes the best laid plans just don't happen. Yesterday I was planning to run the 50K Forest Park Trail Run in lovely Forest Park in Portland, OR. It was a nice idea. I suppose that "was" is the operative word here. You see, my Saturday night got away from me for a good reason. I had planned to register on race day but never even made it to the starting line. Instead, I ended-up closing the bars in the wee hours of Sunday morning with my child-hood friend Vawn McCollum. We drank an untold number of martinis at Bartini followed by a bunch of beers at the old McMenamin's standby, The Blue Moon Tavern in NW Portland. We had a great time. Vawn's husband Lou was kind enough to volunteer to watch their two little ones while we reminisced until 3 am. Needless to say, my body and brain weren't ready for an 8:30 am Sunday morning race. Heck, none of me was up for getting up. I guess that no commitment + lots of alcohol = no motivation to run, or something like that.
If you've never been to Forest Park then you really need to experience it the next time you're in Portland. It's a densely forested park comprised of 5,000 acres with 70 miles of mixed-use trails and all of it located in the northwest corner of the city. As a comparison, Central Park in New York City is only 843 acres and has a measly 7-mile loop trail that runs along the perimeter. That's wimpy! Being a native Oregonian and growing up in Portland I have fond memories of Mt. Biking and cross-country running in the park in the late 80's and early 90's before Nike sponsored a bunch of permanent trail signs under their "Just Do It" campaign. Back then, it was a crap shoot where you were going to end-up given all the twisty single-track trails that criss-cross the park. It was like being in a large living maze with no map. Pretty cool place for a teenager to spend some time wandering about!
So, back to my trail running plight. I had missed the race and I hadn't run at all on Saturday or Sunday. As my pentinence (and to clear my foggy noggin) I decided to do a little run by myself on Monday evening before driving back home to the Seattle area. The weather was a balmy 68F with low humidity and a light wind. No rain had fallen for a while so the trail was perfect. I tossed on my running gear and took off from the Thurman St gate. I ran up the Wildwood trail and then back down Leif Erikson for a total distance of about 10.5 miles. I wanted to go for at least 2 hours but about an hour into the run it was starting to get dark so I decided to turn back. It was as I had remembered it though - lush, quiet, fun, and ultimately majestic. A complete oasis within the confines of the city. Basically, a trail runner's delight. Give it shot next time you're in Portland. You won't be disappointed.
So today was the day. I ran the wonderful McDonald Forest 50K in Corvallis this morning. This will be burned in the old memory banks, like the first time I walked upright or received a Christmas present or graduated from HS (yes, I actually graduated twice, but alas that's another story). It was my first 50K trail race and I had no idea what to expect. I am finally no longer an ultramarathon virgin though. I've thrown off the shackles of long-distance trail running celibacy. I've been asking myself, "Why did it take me so long to experience this?" In the words of the immortal Jim Carrey, "I like it, I like it a laht"
Scott Dunlap told me a few weeks ago that this was a tough race and I have to say that for a first-time 50Ker like myself, yeah, it was tough. Yowza! I suppose I have Scott Jurek to thank/blame for encouraging me to try it. He knows about my training, my desire to run a 50K and my lust for the muddy trails. So when he told me that he and Leah were going to run it I decided to take the plunge and do it too. I'm very glad that I did. The drive down from Seattle sucked but the race more than made up for it.
It was as tough as it was rewarding. Perhaps it didn't help that the furthest distance I had ever run before was 35K and that was only 2 weeks ago out in Mazama/Twisp (see the Sunflower Iron post). Seriously, I've never run further than 22 miles in either training or racing. D'oh! I know someone will tell me that was an ignorant move or just plain dumb, but please hold your tongue. I really enjoyed it and seem to have suffered no ill effects (yet). In fact, 2 months ago I ran my first 25K trail race which was my longest run up to that point. So, my Mac 50K race strategy was actually not to race per se, but to just run, enjoy and finish. I've never run a trail marathon before so I didn't have that benchmark in my mind either, which in hindsight might actually have been a good thing.
I ran slowly not knowing what to expect around each turn, or from my poor body for that matter. I didn't want to experience the dreaded bonk and then DNF. I started the run on my own, not really knowing anyone in the crowd. I soon hooked-up with Julie Sandoz and we ran about 8 miles together talking about engineering and other nerdly pursuits. She soon pulled ahead as we approached the bottom of Extendo and then stupidly, as I was admiring some Iris flowers (which were in awe-inspiring abundance) at around mile 9 or 10, I rolled my right ankle pretty severely. I've never done that before so I just kept running through the pain and it eventually went away after about another 15 miles. Hmm...probably not the best race strategy, but it worked. I told myself that I would finish this thing no matter what happened, regardless of my overall time, even if I lost an earlobe in an encounter with a rabid hummingbird, or a drop bear ripped-out my hair or something as equally traumatic happened to me.
The middle of the race was fun, especially the Hippies servicing the aid station on Dimple Hill. I soon caught up with Jamshid Khajavi at Chip Ross Park and we ran together for about the next 4 miles or so. What an interesting character. He's a 54 year old ultra fanatic from Kirkland, WA who was coming off a 100-miler last weekend in Moab and then planning to race back-to-back 100-milers the following two weekends. That's 331.5 miles of tough running in 4 weeks, not including his training miles. Whoa. And, he's an endurance swimmer to boot! He gave me some much-needed perspective on what's possible if you put your mind to it. Thanks Jamshid! As the Aussies say, "Good on ya!"
In fact, I think that was the slowest pace I have ever run over a set distance; I averaged about 12 min/miles which isn't too bad for a first timer. I felt like I was wearing Granny panties or concrete shoes or something. And, to make this race even better, there was a heckuva lot of climbing, like 6,600 feet of cumulative elevation gain. Fortunately, I like climbing. The only downside was the lack of the infamous "Mac Mud", for which the race is so well known. That kind of bummed me out, given that I live for thick gloopy mud caked around my ankles. Shouldn't complain though, the trail conditions were superb.
I spent about 20 minutes in total at aid stations working on my ankle. When Jamshid and I exited the trails and hit the fire road at about mile 24.5 I felt really good and decided to push my pace a little. I ran that last 7 miles at a faster pace (even including that loooong hill right after the Lewisburg Saddle aid station), so obviously I had something extra left in the tank. I was quite spent at the end though. The run ends with a curvy 1+ mile rooty single-track descent that toasts your quads and I burned down that at like a 7:00 min/mi pace. Gravity was my friend. It sure was a great feeling to finally cross that finish line with everyone whooping and hollering for every finisher. I wasn't certain if they were laughing at my completely decimated state of being or just cheering for everyone, regardless of goofiness factor. I'll have to assume the latter for the sake of my self-dignity.
The end is so sweet. I just stumbled half delirious into the Forestry Cabin needing to consume large numbers of calories, which were replenished with some tasty organic soup and bread served by two lovely volunteers. I sat down to ice my ankle and had a chance to talk a little with the grandfather of Oregon trail running, Clem LaCava (founder and past RD of the Mac 50K as well as all-around nice guy). Then I had a fun rambling conversation with Melissa Heggen, a super smart H.S. math teacher from Denver, who was in town to visit her Dad. She got my vote for the most individually stylistic runner with a super cool pink Adidas headband matched to short pink shorts and a pink top. Check out her hilarious blog. Not to mention that she came all the way from Denver for the race!
Amazingly, I'm not really sore today after icing my ankle and muscles and I'm feeling really good about the entire experience. I learned a lot. I learned to eat while running, that HEED is one nasty drink, that bugs on the Mac 50K trails don't taste half bad, and that running a 50K can be a blissful experience. It was a beautiful course, with a crazily twisting trail that was very well marked and staffed by magnificient volunteers who made the run a real treat. To top it all off, all finishers were handed a well-earned 22 oz. bottle of the Mac Mud Porter from the Oregon Trails Brewery. Now that's the way to end a trail race (RDs take notice)!
So, the question is this: Would I consider running another 50K this year. Hell yeah! I'll definitely do another 50K this year, maybe even a few if my schedule will permit it. I have the ultra trail running bug now. Happy trails!
Ah, an early Spring trail run in the gorgeous Methow Valley. Getting to visit the delightful little Western towns of Mazama, Winthrop, and Twisp, and, the Okanogan in general, which is an outdoorsmen's paradise. Just as I was getting mildly stir-crazy from the endless days of monochrome gray skies and perpetual drippy rain of Seattle I had the opportunity to head over the North Cascades Highway the weekend after it's annual Spring opening. I had 4.5 hours of solid window time to think about my weekend, the origin of navel lint, and why we can send a man to the moon but can't seem to explore the deepest reaches of the oceans on our own planet. I was stumped and it kept me going.
All along the upper reaches of the cascade loop there were huge 4-6 foot high piles of densely packed snow. As I crossed Rainy Pass at 4,855' and descended into the Methow Valley I was struck by the shift in climate and ecosystem from the Western side of the Cascades. The air was drier, crisper and the skies sunnier. The trees were not covered in coats of bright green moss anymore. The deer weren't wearing raincoats. The birds weren't dodging rain drops. I had just come from drizzly rain and blank grayness and was heading into a dry, sunny play land populated by healthy, over-achieving, super athletes, small herds of cattle and Ponderosa Pine trees. My mood improved immeasurably and so did my motivation to run the 27th Annual Sunflower Iron Event. Not to mention that I was going to be staying in Mazama with Chris and Nellie Casey, friends whom I hadn't seen in nearly 5 years...I know, I'm bad! It was going to be a good weekend running and seeing old friends. Game on.
I arrived on the Casey's doorstep around 9pm Friday night, a little bedraggled from the long drive. Chris was at work pulling a 24-hour shift managing the E.R. at Brewster hospital while Nellie was managing the home front with the kids. It was nice to catch-up with Nellie while she fed me some tasty home-made chili. We talked late into the night. At 5:30 am, I awoke from a deep sleep trying to figure out what the bright orange orb was and then realized that it was the sun poking over the horizon! I felt like was coming out of hibernation. This was already shaping up to be a nice day. After some last minute early morning prep, I drove 30 minutes to the Twisp River Pub for race check-in and to take a shuttle bus to the starting line in Mazama along with the other folks. The skies were clear, the sun was shining, there wasn't a stitch of wind about and the temperature was a cool 45F. Perfect trail running conditions.
This is a 22.1 mile point-to-point trail run that begins at 1900 feet of elevation in Mazama and finishes at 1600 feet in Twisp, with a total elevation gain of about 1900 feet. The course includes narrow deer trails, rocky cow paths, undulating Mt. bike routes and a few short paved road sections that criss-cross some of the most scenic public and private lands that I've seen outside of Austria (picture 'The Sound of Music' in your mind). In some sections you run through mountain meadows filled with sunflowers and along small lakes. I started humming "...my heart wants to beat like the wings of the birds, that rise from the lake to the trees..." I know, it sounds corny but it really felt like that. No kidding.
A quick point of fact: the Sunflower Iron Event's namesake flower isn't actually a sunflower but instead a look-a-like more accurately referred to as the Balsam Root. I guess the Balsam Root Iron Event and Relay didn't sound too appealing so they went with Sunflower. Probably a smart move. At this time of year, the Balsam Root is popping-up everywhere in the Methow Valley. The hillsides are practically carpeted with them. Thankfully they weren't pollinating yet or they would've had to serve Claritin and Kleenex at the aid stations along with the Gu. That'd be a gross combo.
The race started at 8:30am at Brown's Farm in Mazama. As we all jumped around trying to stay warm and looking like fleshy pogo sticks I started talking with a nice gal from Renton who was running two legs as part of a relay team. She was training for a triathlon this summer. We chatted and ran together to the first aid station. After that, I was running pretty much by myself for the remainder of the race as I passed folks or was occasionally passed by a number of well-conditioned 50 and 60 year olds. It was humbling. Fortunately, my race strategy is fairly simple: I like to run negative splits so I tend to start races at the back of the pack, running slowly as my body warms up and gets into gear. I find that passing people, especially in latter stages of a long run, is a very rewarding experience and gives me momentum along the way. Those little milestones keep me focused on the task of just crossing the finishing line.
The section between aid station #1 and #2 has the paved country road. Very boring section. I was glad to be done with it. Once I left aid station #2, the herd began to thin out and I saw our first and longest climb of the race. But first we had to navigate/cross some bog-like spring-fed sections which were very muddy with standing water. I don't think anyone was able to avoid the glop. One woman in front of me stumbled through it until her feet were covered in muck. It was funny. I wasn't even trying to avoid it because I love mud. Right after the muck came a nice long climb, the first real climb of the race. It was fairly steep for about 1/4 mile but eventually leveled-out into a nice gradient. It was followed by some pleasant rolling sections and a few more short grunt sections that I just power hiked. This course has so many different types of terrain I could write about it for hours. Suffice it to say that there is something for everyone (except sand thankfully).
I don't even remember Aid Station #3 so it must not have been too memorable. Aid station #4 is located just after one of the small lakes you pass. It's at the base of a steep but short climb that takes you into more mountain meadows via single-track. It's just so darn beautiful that you almost forget that you're running through it. As we approached aid station #5, I was not happy to see a longish steady climb up a switch-back but then I remembered the profile map - this was the last real climb! Thankfully, as we crested the top of that pitch, we were rewarded with a nice view of the valley. As you leave this section you immediately encounter a narrow single-track trail just wide enough for your feet but covered in sharp rocks of all sizes and with plants that overhang the trail. Basically, you can't see directly in front of your feet or where your feet will land. I was running on a fairly empty tank at this point and was just putting myself into the hands of the trail running gods hoping that they would ensure that I didn't twist an ankle or blow-out a knee. It was nuts. At about this point the trail descends sharply and steeply into a quad-burning controlled free-fall that only ends when you reach the bottom. I thought for sure that I was going to fall on my face, and that just doesn't happen to me. Or, at least it hasn't yet.
At the bottom, I was thinking that I had conquered the run. Dumb. I was looking for the finish line but then realized that not only could I not see it I couldn't even hear cheering. I thought "Could I really be that far away?" The short answer was "yep". I had to run another 2 miles on flat horse tracks. Why didn't the course map show this part? Talk about a tough section. It was as difficult mentally as it was physically. Only when I was within about 250 feet of the finish line did I actually realize that I had made it. Whew, I was done!!!
But that's not really the end. I still had a half-mile walk back to the Twisp River Pub for beer, the free potato bar and some fun conversation in the sun with fellow runners while they held an hour long drawing for a ridiculous number of random prizes (I think everyone got something - shoes, socks, hydration pack, etc). The MVSTA organized an awesome event and deserve big kudos! I met Chris, Nellie and their two daughters at the pub after thumbing a ride from a very nice local (everyone's super friendly in the Methow and I wasn't about to make the walk). We scarfed down a big order of nachos like there was no more food left in the town. And Chris got me to try a strange British concoction where you mix two-thirds of a glass of IPA with one-third Seven-Up. Those wacky Brits. It was actually quite refreshing, but I'm not sure that I can actually order it by myself given that I don't have a British accent. There's probably a bartending rule for this.
What did I learn? I obviously didn't hydrate properly, especially in a fairly dry climate. And, I didn't fuel properly either. I burned way more calories than I ingested. And, I had no idea how tough running 22 miles could be physically or mentally. Finally, I was pissed that I had forgotten to bring my small digital camera to take pictures of the awesome scenery and vistas. Who knew? It was a great learning experience though. This is one of those memorable trail runs that will probably become an annual event for me. I'll just have to go back next year. Oh well, poor me.
