Leadville Training Trip #2

Fri: double crossing of Hope Pass [16.5 miles]
Sat.: DAY- Treeline(Pipeline) to Twin Lakes and back [24 miles]
        NIGHT - Fish Hatchery (base of sugarloaf) to May Queen [9 miles]
Sun.: May Queen to Tabor Boat Ramp [9 miles]

Planning the weekend was more difficult with more people, but also waaaayyyyy more fun. Here are some pictures. I was really happy with how I felt all weekend. I ate and drank pretty well the entire time, I tried out a caffeine pill on the night run and it was fine, DP was a blast to run with through the dark, and all my gear worked as advertised - except I still haven't gotten the opportunity to try my rain jacket. Oh, and my headlamp went out.

The bonus came this morning when I added in my miles for the week on my log.
90.8 miles
Ninety FRICKIN' miles! Holy cow. I've wanted to put in a 90 mile week, just to see that I could do it. I didn't think I was going to get it in though. I'm bouncing in my chair like a 4 year old.

Traipsing through the wildflowers near the top of Hope Pass (Twin Lakes side)

Me climbing up the Winfield side of Hope Pass

At the top of Hope Pass

Taking advantage of the river crossing to Twin Lakes for an ice bath

What? our legs feel great!

After Saturday's run to Twin Lakes and back

Thirteen Thursday Thoughts

1.)    I am hesitant to write in my blog lately, because that requires I VISIT my blog, and see the counter. Yeah, that one at the top of the page. That I put there. That I thought was funny. Avoidance is now my constant companion. I just keep thinking, “It’ll never be then.”  Right? (tick, tick....)
2.)    I also am reluctant to write about my training… because it is going well. I think. I don’t want to jinx anything by putting it down into words. When did I become so superstitious? That is NOT like Analysis Girl at all.
3.)    But because this blog is really all about me, and right now I am all about running, that kinda means that if I’m not willing to write about running… well, you see the pickle I am in.
4.)    I have been terribly consistent in my training. More so that for any other endeavor by far. I have only missed a handful of scheduled miles over the last 3 months. My training log, which I color green for days that I do the scheduled workout and red for a missed workout, is almost completely green. Wow. I didn’t know I could do that. I’ve been saying that a lot lately. I’ll work out the percentage of completed workouts when the race is a week away to boost my confidence.
5.)    I got interviewed as a newbie ultrarunner for the Albuquerque Journal Fit section. It’ll come out in August. I hope I don’t come across like an ass. The only thing I said that I am concerned about how it will come across was in response to the question, “what worries you most – or what aspect do you worry about the race?”  In reality, I think and mull over LOTS of things. I'm not a worry-wart, though. The only thing I worry about is, well, being paced. Yes, I worry about my pacers. I worry that we won’t get along. I worry that they won’t have fun. I worry that we won’t be able to communicate… mostly because I am terrible at it. So, that’s what I said, that I worry about my pacers, and how we’ll interact. I think she was shocked that I wasn’t worried about my stomach, the course, the time cutoffs. I guess I’m odd. And now I worry about what people will think about me worrying about my pacers. What a useless waste of energy.
6.)    I feel like I am getting slower. The facts don’t bear this out though. My speed work and tempo work show I am getting faster, a little. But I FEEL slower.
7.)    I’ve gone through several more shifts in perspective. First, now 30 mile runs followed by 10 to 20 mile runs the next day do not seem like a huge deal. THAT IS MORE MILEAGE THAN I USED TO PUT IN DURING AN ENTIRE WEEK. Ack, who does that? Oh, apparently I do. Huh.
8.)    Second, the ski hill doesn’t seem so bad. It’s kinda fun to go straight up. And then straight back down. And repeat.
9.)    Third, I have finally gotten more used to running in the heat. I ran in DC in 100 degrees and 9X% humidity, and it wasn’t that bad. I can’t believe I just wrote that.
10.)    Lastly, a 40 mile week was a welcome recovery week for me. Wow, what a load off! I barely ran at all. My legs got some bounce back, I slept well and tried not to overeat. However, in retrospect, 40 miles per week used to be a high mileage week. Sheesh.
11.)    My house is dirty and my garden has weeds. Big weeds. It wouldn’t bother me so much, but my brother, sister-in-law and two nieces are coming to stay for a couple of days next week. Guess I’ll be cleaning Sunday night when I get back from…
12.)    Leadville training trip #2. See, you maybe thought that last point wasn’t going to be running related. But it was. Friday: double cross that Hope Pass. Saturday: Twin lakes to Pipeline/Treeline during the day, then night run from near Fish Hatchery up over sugarloaf to the dam and back. Sunday, May Queen to the Tabor boat ramp and back. If this makes no sense to you, the take away message is that we’ll cover ~45 miles of the Leadville course. Woot!
13.)    One of my favorite parts about all of this running is the growing list of animals I have seen in the last few weeks: Marmot, black bear (twice, with growling huffing noises thrown in for fun), rattlesnakes, horny toads, porcupine, white tailed deer (one whole deer family – a doe, fawn and buck all together), Abert squirrels, burrowing owls, coyotes (lots), mule deer, garter snake, hummingbirds, and more.  :)  I love the trails.

A Leadville experience.

6/20/2010
Dear Diary,

Today, Jean took me up to Leadville to train. She said on the first day we’d go from Halfmoon to Twin Lakes, with maybe a climb up to somewhere called Mt Elbert. After a little trouble finding the new route, we headed down the jeep roads. There were no markings or numbers on these forest roads, dear diary. Although Jean had never been on this new section, we did manage to take the right jeep road to the Colorado trail. We ran on the trail until suddenly we came to a paved road! We had missed a turn. A passing cyclist said it was 3 miles to Twin Lakes, but luckily, dear diary, it was only 1.5.

We filled up with water, and headed back to the Colorado Trail by the right route this time. It was steep! We got to the trail, and then we saw why we had missed the turn – it had logs put across it. We laughed, and kept going. The wrong way. Again. Before too long, Jean turned us around (I was getting a bit dizzy) and got us going in the right direction.

Part way along, she stopped and waited for me, then asked, “Do you want to run more, or hike?”  I had already agreed to the Mt. Elbert (whatever that was) climb, so we started hiking up. And up. And up. We were already at 10,000 ft, dear diary, so how much farther could it really be? Then Jean says, “You know, Mt. Elbert is more than 14,000 ft high.”

“No, I didn’t know that. Of course it is.”

Actually, it was more like,

“No,” gasp, gasp, “I didn’t” gasp, gasp “know that.” Wheeze. “Of course” gasp “it is.”

“And,” says Jean, “It’s the highest peak in Colorado!”

The nice deaf man resting by the side of the trail mimed to me that the peak was too slippery to get to. But we went anyway. And this afternoon, I learned to posthole. There weren't any people at the top but us. We only saw a handful hiking up or down that day. Jean said that today, only the HARDCORE people made it to the top. She says now I can say I am HARDCORE as well as agile.

We saw several Marmots. The first thought he was an Adonis, and posed quite nicely with Jean. “I am too  gorgeous, you must admire me.”

The next was pretending to be a rock. “I am a rock,” he said, “You do not see me.”

After summitting (my first fourteener – hey, it counts even if it was totally unintentional!) and signing the register, we headed down.

After reaching the Colorado trail, we realize we were both out of water with 5 miles to go.

I was thirsty, Jean was thirsty, but we ran. More than 9 hours and 28.5 miles after starting, we were standing by our car. Which I had left unlocked.  Luckliy, dear diary, nothing was taken!

We ended the night with a plate of tilapia and pasta, followed by a starlit icy soak in the pond in the backyard.  A perfect EXTREME SHEEP vacation.

The Hope Pass Double crossing

I had TRIED to take it easy on (6/19) Saturday’s Pipeline to Twin Lakes to Mt Elbert to Pipeline loop. I really had. I tried to keep the effort low. But by the end of a 9.3 hour day of running and hiking up to 14,433 ft, with none of the 28.5 miles below 9000 ft, I was tired. My muscles had forgotten what glycogen looked like. I woke up in the middle of the night really hungry even though we had a big dinner. And a big snack before dinner. And a little snack before bed.I just hoped I'd recover enough to carry me over Hope Pass and back the next day.

Jean had found out from a friend that the high temperatures and voluminous snowpack this year had wiped out many of the bridges spanning the river between Twin lakes and Hope Pass. He directed us to one that was still crossable, just west of Willis Gulch. Out of curiosity, we stopped at Willis gulch, thinking maybe that bridge wouldn’t be underwater anymore. Instead, we found the bridge was split in two, and hanging off of the two banks.  The water raged and frothed itself to a creamy white above it in the narrow canyon. The amount of water flowing under the bridge we did cross was dizzying.

 Jean, mistress of trails for this Leadville weekend, quickly found the right trail, and then the right turn, and we were on the Colorado trail heading up to Hope Pass. Legs were tired, but not as bad as they were for the Caldera marathon! We caught the trail about 2 or 3 miles out from Twin Lakes, just at the bottom of the incline.  The trail is a pleasure to climb (in training), a little rocky, a little rooty, not steep enough to make you stop. I used my trekking poles all the way up. They gave me a rhythm to lose myself in. The trail is wide enough for two people to walk side by side, if they like each other.  In most places, one side was better footing than the other.  It’s wooded in lodgepole pines, spruce, and aspen. For some of it, a river was just off the path.  Before long, I was running across small meadows with wildflowers – reminded me of marsh marigolds and lupine from Wisconsin. The trail narrowed to one person wide up here, and was less rocky. Finally, I came to the last meadow, where Jean was waiting in the lee of a tree, and where the Llamas will be on race day. Oh, and the aid station, too. I sat and ate a bit.

Above us, we could see the trail between spotty snowfields leading up to Hope Pass through nothing but 0.7 miles of rocks. The wind whipped down the slope as we made our way to the pass. Jean borrowed a pole to get through the snowfields. It took 22 min to cross the distance to the pass.
Time to ascend Twin Lakes side: 1:53 (includes the rest break.)
Distance of climb = 2.7 miles
Elevation difference: 3270

The wind kept me from enjoying the view, and down the other side we ran. The first mile was totally runnable with my poles giving added purchase on the sandy surface in an open exposed terrain. After that, in the woods, the two or three rock slides slowed me to a walk with unstable rocks in all shapes and sizes. After 1.5 miles, the trail was so narrow that the undergrowth was grabbing my poles. For the last mile, the trail was so steep and slidy, that I couldn’t manage much of a run. This will be a challenge on race day, to give and get room on the trail to and from other runners. THIS side was not two people wide at any point. I found Jean at the bottom, and we ran to the road and turned around there (skipping the 2 miles to the race turn around at Winfield).
Time to descend Winfield side: 48 minutes
Distance: 2.6 miles
Elevation drop: 2675

On the way back up, the first mile was by far the hardest. The steep section here was steeper than the Twin Lakes side had been. I was trudging, and immediately lost sight of Jean.  I stopped for 7 minutes, sat on a rock, ate my potato chips and drank. Finally, though, I started up again, still appreciating the poles I was using.  My breathing was labored going up the Winfield side, something I hadn’t noticed on the twin lakes side. (I’m sure on race day, both sides will feel laborious.)  I plodded and plodded. I stopped to catch my breath several times, and on each occasion it eluded me. Finally, as the woods began to thin, the trail eased its pitch just slightly, and I was able to hike with purpose. I even ran across one or two switchbacks. Close to the top, the fierce wind tugged relentlessly at my light carbon poles as I tried to plant them. I gave up on using both poles, and focused on only one with better luck.
Time to ascend Winfield side: 1:44 (includes the rest break)

The first .7 miles of rocks, snow, wind and grief were not fun, but soon over. I caught Jean napping in the lee of a different tree. Before I could do more than take a drink, she was up and running downhill. The poles were fantastic for descending on this wide, slightly more level trail. There were only a couple of rocky sections that were difficult to plant a pole in. Everywhere else, I got a boost because of them. After 20 minutes, my triceps were crying from all of the exercise. I will need to work on that! We turned off of this trail early, but it seems that it would have taken me 45 minutes to get back to where we started.

So… race day estimates? Who knows. Here's a stab in the dark.

3 miles from Twin Lakes to bottom of hope pass = 42 minutes
Ascent = 2 hours
Descent = 1 hour
Road to Winfield = 35 minutes
Total OB = 4:17

Return on road = 28 minutes
Ascent = 2.25 hours
Descent = 1 hour
3 miles to Twin lakes = 45 minutes
Total IB = 4:28

4th time is no walk in the park

I didn’t set out with great expectations, I swear. But at one point, I turned to Bones and said, “This is not how I expected this to go.”  And yet, the Run the Caldera Marathon 2010 may have been one of the best learning opportunities to date for me.

I anticipated finishing in about 5 hours, give or take, after running conservatively and easily, just letting my legs cover the distance. I love the locale of the race, so I was looking forward to seeing the meadow, and the wildflowers, hearing the streams. I was looking forward to being happy out there.

I did not get what I wanted. I guess we’ll see if I got what I needed.

We had to wait at the start for about 45 minutes, as lightning from a brief passing storm had started a small fire. The volunteer fire dept (THANK YOU VOLUNTEERS!) contained it quickly and we started.
My first thought: Wow, my legs are heavy.
Second thought: really really heavy.
Third: I’ve never felt my legs like this. Not even last week after running long with S. Baboo and then running longish with Kenbot the next day.  Not even close.

Were small children hanging on to my legs and dragging their weight behind me? No. Had someone inserted lead into my shoes? Doubtful.

Am I really this tired? Huh. Guess so.

I plodded along, feeling like I had already run 20 or 30 miles even though we had just started. I hoped my legs would warm up and return to their normal peppy state…. But it was clear by mile 3 that I was hoping in vain. Lucky for me, Bones was running nearby, and selflessly decided to stay with me.

Normally, chatting or being chatted to while running tires me out. It can make me feel worse about how I’m  doing even if I’m doing well, and can make me feel worse – even guilty – if I’m feeling bad. I’m not sure why. Maybe I assume that the person with me is having an easier time of it than I. Maybe it’s the difference between having to work to listen and understand someone, and being alone with my own thoughts. Which, while running I think about nothing in particular. Maybe it’s about having a witness, a fear of being judged.

But, that day, my head wasn’t a great place to be. It wasn’t happy, and it wasn’t thinking about nothing in particular. It was thinking that “I suck” and “At this rate, you’ll be out here all day” and “nobody else feels as bad as you do.” Chatting with Bones was enjoyable and a relief.

Lots of people passed us on the first climb that goes from 8000 to 10,000 ft. We walked just about the whole thing, except for one or two flatter spots. We did not pass a single person. We saw my friend Barry rejoin the trail – he had taken a wrong turn for an extra 2 miles. I thought that since I was going so slowly, I had an excellent opportunity to try taking in 2 gels an hour – in an attempt to get more calories. After gel #3, I abandoned that plan. No matter that I was walking, it was too much. Back to the drawing board on that one.

Got to the top (9.4 miles) in 1:54. “Waaaaait just a second here. That’s not really so bad. Do I still feel horrible?”
 Yep. 
"Huh.”

I couldn’t help but compare it to my times and splits from previous years:
    Top of climb    finish
2009    1:46        4:54
2008    1:55        5:13
2007    2:04        5:45

So it would seem like I was on track to ~5:13 finish. “No way. You’re too slow, it’ll be 6 hours.” We headed down the long descent. I couldn’t really relax into it, and my brain was definitely trying to convince me to walk.

“Ooo, that step kinda hurt. Don’t you think you should walk awhile? You know, just til it stops hurting? No?
...
How about we walk this little flattish spot. You can run when it gets steeper again. No?
...
Here’s an aid station. I know you’re wearing your hydration pack, but how about you stop for a coke. Some ginger ale?
...

Ah, the watch timer went off. Why not walk while you take your salt tab? You wouldn’t want to choke on it. Just a few steps…”

And on it went. I caved a few times. Especially when it came to the coke at the aid station. :0 After noting the time at the top, I checked our pace – my pace – as we went down and as we crossed the meadow of the caldera. Some 8:10s, 8:20s, 8:30s, 9s. Finally, I stopped looking at my watch – I just couldn’t stand the contradiction. I was feeling so awful, but the pace wasn’t reflecting just how awful I felt. Maybe the battery was dying. Whatever was going on, dwelling on it, trying to reason through it was frustrating. Better just to keep running, and walking the uphills. Forget the watch.

I checked with Bones a few times when I couldn’t stand it any longer, and he’d confirm that we were bound to finish just after 5, maybe 5:15 or 5:20. I couldn’t believe it. But mostly we talked about the Turkey factoid mile markers, the flowers, our training, Leadville, life. I knew I was slowing him down quite a bit. I offered him the chance to leave several times, but he declined. This is antithetical to me – I can definitely learn this generosity of spirit from Bones. For me, a race = goals. So it’s a big leap for me to see the value in setting aside any goals, and just keeping someone company that would appreciate it.

There weren’t any elk in the meadow as we passed through, just some cattle and horses in the distance. This year, the wind was blowing too much for the grasshoppers to be popping up from the ground like popcorn. It was so dry, the soil – aka volcanic ash – coated our legs. Bones made “poof-poof-poof” noises as sound effects as we stirred up clouds of dust with each step. I know the course pretty well, this being my fourth time, so I could tell Bones what was coming up. We had fun.

I felt no different at the end than I did at the start. Tired legs and achy feet. We crossed the line in 5:08, way faster than I had expected. Way happier with my day than I had expected, too. So I guess this serves as lesson 1 on how to run on tired legs. And lesson 1 on how to avoid the pit of despair in your own head. And maybe the preliminary lesson on how to run with friends.

Remedial Ultrarunning Summer School

I include “remedial” in the title just in case you might think I was in some kind of advanced placement group. No.
Several teachers have been tag teaming the lessons. I can only assume that they find watching their pupil entertaining in some way, as these teachers are way overqualified.

So far, I have had several tough lessons. I shall enumerate:
1.)    Getting up early to run (all the teachers do this): It’s hot here. See #2. Best to run as early as possible. Weekends are no longer for sleeping in. No more Saturday mornings staying in bed until 7. I may have pouted a bit about this, but I’m not telling.

2.)    Running in the heat (Barry, Jim, Mike, Cedric, Tim, Matt): See #1. But, when the run is going to last 6 hours or more, the heat of the day will be a part of the run no matter what direction you take. Better to get used to running in the heat for shorter periods in the middle of the day. I may have dozed off in this lesson – it was warm and I was tired. But I heard something about blood plasma volume. And saunas? Or was that sofas, as in, you should stay seated on yours for the duration of the summer? Doubtful. Anyway, I think water is important.

3.)    Running and hiking up hills (Jean, Ken, Kurt, Kelly): Kelly’s favorite trail is short, and one of the steepest I’d been on until Jean showed me one of her favorites that required scrambling on all fours. The point here seems to be to go until you get to the top, but not necessarily by the most direct route. Ken instructed me to get some trekking poles, which seem useful on the way up. On the way down however, well… that’s another lesson (I hope). Kurt’s method of uphill training involves the ski hill. Repeating the hill over and over is encouraged.  Or sometimes a stair climber. I don’t get this one yet. Maybe I should try it more than once?

4.)    Running downhills (Kurt, Jean, Brian): Once I manage to keep up with the instructors, I may learn something. Kurt got stuck behind me at the Jemez Mountain Trail Run, and he couldn’t stop moaning and groaning about my *ahem* downhill technique. I told you this was remedial summer school. Kurt did point out that the shoes I had been wearing were not up to the job.

5.)    Running at altitude (Jean): Mostly a demonstration lesson, as in, “This trail is at 10,000 ft. Now let’s run.”

6.)     Tripping (Brian): I couldn’t hear most of this lesson – Brian was running in front of me down the trail (he also conducted a downhill lesson). But the demonstrations were instructive. I managed a good fall with minimal damage that LOOKED bad. Which I guess is the point, to make others think you are tough? Like I said, I didn’t hear the finer points of this lesson. Brian seemed disappointed that there wasn’t more blood though. I’m not sure if he was serious. The next day, Ken seemed satisfied that I was making progress in this area, at least.

7.)    Nutrition and Weight loss (Nutritionist Kaylie):  I thought I needed help with this one. I’d like to be about 120 at Leadville, and after Jemez I was 129, a few pounds over my typical weight. After two weeks of running 60 miles per week, uh, I’m down to 123. Ok then. Kaylie said that I can drink 2 cokes a day. Her only comments were that maybe I could eat more fruit, and take a multivitamin for crying out loud. The real challenge has been to finish running early enough in the evening so that I can eat something before I go to bed.

In the following weeks, we are going to cover:
8.)    Eating while running
9.)    Drinking while running
10.)    Running while tired - I think I'm getting the hang of this one on my own...
11.)    Running in the dark
12.)    Refueling post run
13.)    Aid station blitzes

I’ve heard the end of summer exam is a b!tch. :)

Wish fulfillment

At IMSG, I did several things right. I stayed within myself on the bike so that I could do well in the run. I ate close to my target (1680 vs target of 2200 calories). I drank. I took Tums when my stomach was in question. I took Endurolytes every half hour as planned. I enjoyed my day in part because of these things.

But finishing in 14:38 tickled an itch that I can't reach - an itch to try to go so much faster than that. To race.

If swimming a whole 9 times, and biking 115 miles a week gets me a 14:38 on a hard course, what would serious training get me? I think this is a good future goal. You know, Post Leadville.

Of course, now that thought has occurred to me, I can't stop thinking about how much I'd like to race an Ironman. And the Quad too. And maybe a marathon, I bet I could best my 3:53 marathon time. Oooo, what about my 21:40 5K time?

And then at Jay Benson (Sprint distance Tri ) this past weekend, I was the runner for a relay team on a 3 mile course....      *poof*
I ran 20:21.

It's only 3 miles, not 3.1 (5K). But it was 1 week post IM, so my recovery was still in progress. If I add 0.1 miles on to that at the same pace, I'd have finished in 21:02. Wahoo! Plus, I beat all the other relay team runners, except for one. Double wahoo! It's not qualifying for Kona, but it's still cool.