7/12 Brazen Dirty Dozen 12 Hour race

So I paid a fee on Saturday for the privilege of running in circles for twelve hours...

(No no, that just sounds insane. Start again)

So I was running this great 12 hour training run on Saturday…

(Abort! Abort!)

I just took third male at the Brazen Dirty Dozen 12 hour race on Saturday with 61.22 miles! I set my PRs for 50K, 50 mile, and my distance PR for the race AND for a training week!

(OK, but you’re going to go with accomplishments, accomplishments, accomplishments? Lame.)

I got to hang out with my awesome friend Meredith for twelve hours straight on Saturday! And, oh, by the way, we were running.

(There it is!)

Some races are epic for different reasons. Based in Point Pinole Regional Shoreline, The Brazen Dirty Dozen isn’t the most scenic, nor does it have ridiculous elevation gains, nor is the trail super technical. But it’s a blast to run (even more with a friend!) and I have fond memories of it last year as my gateway ultra when I first made it to 50 miles. This year, I loved it even more as an indicator of my progress: a gut check, a skills check, and a gear check.

Yeah, you know how I go on and on about “don’t try anything new on race day”? I basically threw that out the window and somehow still had a great race. More on that later.

Logistically, the race is around a mild 3 mile trail loop for the first 11 hours, then around a 0.65 mile loop for the last hour. Runners try to max out on the distance travelled. There’s an aid station at the start/finish and one roughly halfway around the big loop. One of the aspects I really, really appreciated while racing the 12 hour is that it lets you focus on the details. Pack isn’t working out? Swap it out at your ridiculously oversized bag of gear. Stomach upset from drinking wasp juice? There’s a restroom coming right up! In many ways, this was the ideal way to compare gear and nutrition lap to lap and tweak the details in a safe, easy environment. Like I said, a good training 12 hour, and three miles is just long enough not to go completely bonkers crazypants.

And at the end of the day, yes, you are running laps for 12 hours. But it’s really not as bad as it sounds. (It builds character, right?) Your world contracts to a series of questions. Should I walk up the next hill? Am I getting enough calories? What do I need to get at the next aid station? This is great practice for a non-loop race, as you can dedicate your brain cells normally used in navigation to more important matters like remembering the words to the Journey song blasting out of your pack.

That being said, I know I couldn’t have pushed myself this hard or even hard nearly as much fun without Meredith. We were both fresh off of our amazing #alaskanadventure and eager to try out our new bag of tricks. I am so proud to say that we raced smart. Our pace drifted from 10 mins/mile to 12, but there weren’t any laps that were obviously too fast or slow. We kept each other in check when necessary, bargained with each other about where to walk, and rehearsed aid stations before we hit them. Communication was key, and thankfully we were on the same page. Chatting transitioned into listening to podcasts then to singing along to music. This gradually faded to terse descriptions of landmarks to literally just pointing and grunting. And then just pointing. But it was companionable pointing. Go team!

Oh, you wanted an actual report of the race?

Through the start chute, around the corner to the coast, past the outhouse, up the little hill with the bad footing, around to the walking hill, then up those 2 inclines to the quick downhill, around the corner to the disgusting outhouse, up the road to the AID STATION, then past the walking cones up the small hill to the first straight section (boo) to the LONGER straight section (BOO!) to the walking log through to the running log, then a quick downhill to the exposed uphill along the ridge to the road and BACK to the start chute. Again. And again. AND AGAIN. It builds character. Really.

Meta report:

Miles 1-26: It was cool and we were still chatty. The miles passed pretty quickly thanks to James and Robin for 6 of them.

Miles 26-33: I’m dreaming about the Hell or High Watermelon I’ve stashed in my drop bag

Mile 33: BEER

Miles 33-36: POST BEER. (Pat carries us through the post beer lull)

Miles 37-40: No man’s land. We’ve got almost 6 hours still to run and it’s getting hot. Music time.

Miles 40-57: Grind it out. Get loopy. It’s ok, there’s nobody on the trail anymore. Howland picks us up for a lap.

Miles 57-61: We made it past our previous distance PR! Everything is gravy! Why are we pushing ourselves even harder now on the small loop?? Howland joins in for a final small lap.

Ahd that was that! We didn’t get any severe GI issues, nor did we overheat, nor did we pull or strain anything, and our splits were fading, but consistent. Well done, team. And a huge, huge thank you to our pacers (Robin and James X2!!!, Patrick, and Howland)

My favorite moment (ok, series of moments) came from my attempts to inject some surrealism into the race via the ole’ horsehead mask. From the finish line announcer on an early lap “I ah don’t know how to say this, but there’s a horse coming across the finish line”

What’s most heartening is that we put the pieces together. One year ago I came into this race completely intimidated, and only jumped up from the 6 to the 12 hour at the very last moment. Now, this is “just” a training race. I’ve earned some hard won experience: when and how to push, how to pick myself up out of the bad spots, and how to pace. What scares (and excites!) me is that I’m finally seeing how much I still have to learn. It’s all too easy to distill an entire day into a single number especially once the soreness fades. But somehow all of those tedious moments spiked with a few exciting ones add up to greatness. Like any race, there were good times and bad, and I’m proud to say that during those bad times I just put my head down and kept going.

Onwards to one more training race,Encounters Overlook, and my A race, the Cuyamaca 100k!

And for the gear nerds...

Hoka One One Stinson ATR: My magic shoes, my 7 league boots, my +Dex footgear...gave me 2 massive blisters. But it was totally worth it! Even at lap 16 I was pounding the (ok not so impressive) downhill on the course, but I attribute my relatively non-beat-upedness of my muscles to the Hokas. Love, love, love them.

Pearl Izumi sun sleeves: These are white sleeves with UV protection and great heat transfer. I wore them for all 12 hours! When the day heated up, I doused them with water and they were a great cooling device. Also, Howland flips out when I call them “arm coolers” so, you know, bonus.

Ultraspire Omega pack: I can fit a horsehead mask and a bluetooth speaker in this and still have plenty room for layers, nutrition, and hydration with NO chafing. WIN.

Ultimate Direction body bottles: These were actually the dark horse (heh) winners in the gear arena. I used them instead of my hydration bladder for the first lap and thought I would swap them out ASAP. Instead, I ended up loving them! I could stuff them in my pack and they were super easy to handle and drink out of. I also want to cover them in this and call them my “one direction” bottles.

Vespa “Wasp Juice” supplement: Oh, wasp juice. Supposedly, this supplement lets you metabolize your fat stores more effectively AND helps with hangovers (THE ONE WEIRD TRICK ULTRARUNNERS DON’T WANT YOU TO KNOW ABOUT) I’m on the fence about this one. I felt great today, but I was nailing my nutrition regardless (chicken broth + pirate’s booty = chicken booty) It’s expensive and tastes...well...it tastes like how I imagine licking a wasp would taste like. But on the bright side at no point did I bonk or feel super hungry on Saturday, so success, perhaps? I also was eating small amounts of real food every 20-25 minutes, so it was hard to tell. I’m going to try again at Encounters Overlook.

Ultragen recovery drink: Supposedly a witches’ brew of proteins, simple carbs, and amino acids. Chugged a hit of this after the race. I attribute my non-soreness to a combination of this and my hokas.

Braven 600: My sole nonstandard piece of race gear. It’s a bluetooth speaker that I slipped into my front pack pocket. The Braven has enough oomph to provide podcasts and music for two. Great morale booster.

Desolation wilderness

I was up in South Lake Tahoe with a few friends last weekend, and the highlight of the trip was definitely a 20 mile point to point run through Desolation wilderness. Thank you to Ethan for planning the route! Meredith, Ethan, Levi, and I started at Echo Lake, then ran up through Dick's Pass to the Eagle Falls trailhead for a technical 20 miler. It was a blast!

Obligatory "before" shot:

It's hard not to notice the altitude. We started at about 7000 feet, enough to bring our heart rates up even at what should have been an easy pace. But that was fine, since we weren't moving that fast anyway. With plenty of rocks on the trail, at times it felt like more of a scramble or a hike than a run! Trevor and Brian, much respect for tackling the TRT 100.

On the bright side, we had plenty of time to admire the views.

The early morning weather was quite pleasant. A bit of a breeze, but not too hot. We kept a pretty steady pace to Aloha Lake, and then stopped to filter some water and toss back some shotbloks. The water was a gorgeous deep blue from afar and crystal clear up close. (But we still filtered it because hey, giardia sucks and this wasn't Alaskan snowmelt)

As we turned onto the PCT, we started to see more and more backpackers with a few ultrarunners mixed in. Everyone was super nice and very respectful of the trail.

And the trail went up...

 ...and up...

...and up...

 until we hit about 9200 ft. The last climb was a doozy and we were all sucking wind, but we made it!

We grabbed some snow up top for hot heads and blasted down the trail. We were missing the oxygen, and even getting down to 7000 ft made a huge, huge difference. The trip back was just more of the same: breathtaking vistas and gorgeous views. The quality of folks we ran into started changing, too. We chatted with some folks training for a 200 mile race (is that even a thing???) and our Hokas ignited a debate as we passed some saner folks only training for 100 milers. "See you in 25 years!" they called after us as we shot down the trail.

Eventually the trails became less technical, and we knew we were close when we ran into day hikers. I saw a guy with a straw hat and a tropicana bottle of water and then a girl in flip flops and a bikini, and I knew we were just about done.

And we're still smiling! It was a tough 20 miler that took 6:30 (including breaks to pump water) but we all felt fantastically accomplished and not too beat up. Spiffy.


Gear retrospective:
Ultraspire Omega pack: Once I got used to how relatively low this pack sat, I loved the monstrous amount of gear I could carry. 2 liters, nutrition, an extra layer, and a water filter? No problem! Definitely my choice for backcountry runs.
Pearl Izumi sun sleeves: I call these "arm coolers" to Howland's consternation, but they were great at keeping the sun off my arms. When I could spare the water, they felt like they supercooled my arms.
Hoka One One Stinson ATR: Still loving these. I did a run in the Marin Headlands which felt like I was flying. Less flying today because of how technical the trails were, but they did a great job of cushioning my feet at the cost of an increased risk of rolled ankles. They're definitely on my list of race gear moving forward.

Bonus: Margarita shotbloks soaked in patron are AMAZING after a day in the sun. My friends assure me that they are less amazing if one hasn't been on the trail for hours, but I still respectfully disagree.

See you on the trails,

David

Alaskan run camp retrospective

It's been more than a week and I'm still dreaming about Alaska during my waking and my sleeping hours. I'm still trying to figure out why it was such a special time for me and why it's lit a fire under me and kindled a passion for trail running.

Admittedly, it came along at just the right time. I've been running road races since about 2008. I've had some good times and some breakthroughs, but I'm now honestly a little tired of that scene. Recently I've begun to branch out into trail running. It's such a different experience: laid back people, super small races, and amazing scenery. It's hard to say that this camp was a natural progression of that curiosity, but it definitely was a great way to hang out with my brethren in amazing, amazing scenery.

And as much as I drool over running in breathtaking vistas, it's really the people who have stood out on this trip. It's the mentality that drove 12 strangers to hang out together for a week. Except, really, that we know we were never strangers. We have the shared experience of exploring forest paths, racing along mountain ridges, and slogging uphill when the occasion demands it. There's a bond in the knowledge that this common experience is what we seek out and what we thrive on. I've been described as an endorphin junkie and it's totally true. There's so comparatively few of us out there that just getting in a room with 11 other passionate trail runners is a thrill. Being able to share new experiences in the day and tell stories about it at night was something truly special. Finding like minded folks gives us a sense of legitimacy; I went from "that guy who always carries so much gear" to "the dude who does a lot of road races." It's nice to be brought into the fold.

And in what other sport do you have a chance to hang out with your legends for a week? Geoff and Krissy are amazing athletes, but also warm, fun, and welcoming people. In my mind, they epitomize the best aspects of trail runners: passion, self reliance, and determination. It's evident that they love what they do, and the fact that they're really, really good at it seems almost beside the point. That enthusiasm is infectious! Trail running is a sport where the training is as much fun as the competition, and as I'm find out that's a slippery slope. Now that I have the skills, the gear, and the shared experience with my buddies to draw on, there's nothing hold me back. (I'm going to run Western States sooner or later!)

And really, their lessons in the end are the ones that get distilled into buzzfeed lists and motivational posters. Pursue your passions. Push yourself beyond your comfort zone. Surround yourself with energized people who will support your adventures. Treat rivals as friends, not enemies, and competitions as a way to bring out the best in yourself. I've heard them all a million times, but now they're all illustrated in faces and landscapes in Juneau, AK.

I am extremely, extremely thankful for these shared experiences, my health, and the new trail buddies I now have across the continent. You guys are already missed.

This chapter of our story is done, but the adventure goes on. See you on the trail.

Alaska Mountain Ultrarunning Camp

It’s been some time since I returned from Geoff Roes’s amazing Alaskan running camp. I’m currently sitting in a comfortable office with precisely zero rocks or chunks of ice in my shoes. I’m not covered in sweat and I’m happy to say that I smell great. I’m in 0 danger of wiping out down a snowy hill or of losing my shoe in a mud puddle. I haven’t had to do ANY bushwhacking to get here, nor have I recently spotted any bears.

Needless to say, THIS SUCKS. Send me back to Alaska. Please?

Here's the short version:

and the short, short version

Let me start from the beginning. Meredith talked me into going to run camp this last year, but it wasn’t a hard sell. We’d spend a week up in Alaska in a seaside cabin, eating fresh homemade organic meals, and running the trails near Juneau with not one, but two world class ultrarunners. What wasn’t to like?

To my surprise, the biggest challenge was just explaining to nonrunners why I was going.

“So...you’re heading out to a cabin in the woods with a bunch of strangers and you’re just going to run for a week? Why?”

After an breathtaking, magical, transformative week, I finally have answers for them:

Because spending time doing what you love is never time wasted.

Because enthusiasm is infectious and strangers who share passions are about 10 minutes away from being “fast friends” (running entendres are the BEST).

Because personal growth never happens inside of your comfort zone.

Because in what other sport do you get to spend a week hanging out with some of your sport’s legends?

And because, well, this:

Like with the best trail races, I am coming away from this experience a different person, both humbled and triumphant, with great memories and new friends.

The camp:

Geoff Roes (at my right shoulder) is the camp organizer and invited Krissy Moehl (lower right) to help coach this session. Both are amazing, warm, passionate people who also happen to be badass runners. Geoff's wife Corle also had a huge contribution as camp mom, helping to look after 12 hungry, hungry runners with copious amounts of fantastic food. Huge, huge thanks to all three of them for taking such good care of us!

Here are our digs: a cabin at the Shrine of St Therese

that also happens to have gorgeous views out the front window.

The running:

Day 0: Geoff picks us all up from the airport and we quickly become The Real Ultrarunners of Juneau Alaska. Everyone is super chill; there’s folks there who are just starting out in trail racing and folks who have run multiple 100 mile races. Everyone’s got a story to tell but we are all united by a keen appreciation of no longer being the running extremist in the room.

Day 1: The weather is great, so Geoff decides to take us up the iconic Mt Juneau. The trailhead is literally 3 blocks from downtown and, like the rest of Alaska, it is breathtakingly gorgeous. We’re met there by some local runners who are just as friendly as can be. We gear up (hydration packs and dry fit all around!) and set off down the trail together. The flat portion quickly ends, as we start to ascend. The happy chatter slows a bit as people concentrate on breathing as our run becomes a fast hike and we start to wonder what we’ve gotten ourselves into. I fall in behind Guy, one of the locals, and his amazingly fit dog Puzzle. Guy sets up the mountain at an effortless pace while giving me the guided tour of the Alaskan mountainside, while I’m struggling along behind him sucking wind. After an eternity, we make it to the top and my heartrate falls enough for me to actually see what we’ve done.

WOW.

We set out across the mountain ridge and it feels like a movie. (cue slow pan from aerial shot)

It’s hard to concentrate on finding footholds since there’s so much natural beauty around and below us but miraculously none of us eat it.

We then hit a series of snowfields and Geoff teaches us the finer points of glissading. There’s about 3 inches of soft snow covering firm footing, so we quickly learn that the only penalty for slipping is an exhilarating few seconds sliding on our asses. We bomb down the mountain, whooping like kids and laughing like idiots. It is a unique feeling that leaves us helpless with pounding hearts and breathless laughter.

Oh, by the way, the water is pure snowmelt. Thirsty?

The return trip takes us from rocky paths to lush forest and then, magically, we’re back at the van where we’ve stashed sandwiches and beer. WIN.

Day 2: It’s raining. Hard. And so we’re sticking to the least technical run of the week, a flat jaunt through the forest to a glacier viewing point. We quickly abandon all hope of staying at all dry and just lose ourselves in the rhythm of fast footsteps. Trevor is gleefully jumping in every puddle he can find and the enthusiasm is infectious!  After a few stream crossings and countless puddles to jump in later, we pop out into a gorgeous vista.

The trip back is a blur. Well, at least Samir, Garrett, and Jim are a blur as they accelerate to what seems like Mach 1. In what will become a recurring theme for the week, they admit to underestimating the distance back and kicking it in for multiple miles. (Geoff confesses to exactly the same mistake when guiding his pack back!)

And then when we get back, Corle has made us hot muffins and it’s the best thing in the world.

Day 3: We’re offered a choose-your-own-adventure today: go up and over another peak, or stay low and blast through another forest. I take the high road (for once) and we are paired with Rachel, a nurse transplant from Pennsylvania, and the garrulous John who is our primary guide for the day. In a Wester States-esque move, we start out by climbing out of a ski area and straight into some gnarly "trails"

...which go up…

...and straight into a snow field. By this point, I am seriously bemoaning the fact that all I had were road shoes (they’re pretty grippy road shoes, ok?) But when it starts to sleet….and when John shows us a mink skeleton on a windy hilltop...I’m starting to rethink my decision to go up and over.

Fortunately, it warms up quickly and we get some bushwhacking to raise our spirits.

Hey, where’d the trail go?

The run culminates in a 2ish mile stint down a raised boardwalk. It’s slick, there’s mud on either side, and the steps are annoyingly varied in height and length. It’s a finicky little section which demands our full attention about 5 feet ahead of us at all times, and for some reason I love it! It feels like a mini-obstacle course and after our slow going uphill it feels like I’m flying.

Elapsed time? 3 hours for 7 miles, and we are DONE. Off to the brewery for celebration beers.

Day 4: This is it, the big one. We are going up and over four peaks: Gastineau, Roberts, Sheep, and Clark. We start out climbing, of course, and gradually make our way up to the Juneau tram station to the astonishment of the cruise ship tourists. 

Our reward is getting higher than the eagles.

But wait until you see where we head next (Four Peaks!)

And then the fun begins. I elect to stay with the lead group, and cut a counterpoint to their chatter with my grim determination to keep on breathing. We get up Gastineau and I’m seriously reconsidering my optimism in staying in the lead pack. These guys are FAST. Fortunately, Krissy and Geoff talk me into staying up with them. One line sticks out in particular, delivered to my sweat soaked self atop an Alaskan Mountain: “You are stronger than you think.” Coming from two world class runners, this was quite the confidence booster!

Which was good, because we promptly set out in a combination ice climbing, snowfield traversing, glissading, scree surfing, and bouldering journey that took us up some gnarly slopes and across some truly breathtaking vistas that had me shaking in fear, awe, and fatigue. Crossing the icefields was one of the most physically and mentally demanding challenges I’ve ever done. Geoff and Jim were quick to casually powerwalk their way across, but Garrett, Samir, Krissy and I were left gaping at their surefootedness. We eventually followed, but with agonizing care. John was with us again there and he demonstrated recovery techniques by suddenly flopping down to show how we could arrest a fall by digging in our fingers and toes. He nearly arrested my heart, but he made his point.

(Thanks to Krissy for some of these amazing shots!)

The run back was fantastic, as usual. Gorgeous vistas, amazing terrain, great company, etc. etc. etc. Funny what you can get used to!

Day 5:  Our last day was unique in that there was precisely 1 person who knew where we were going, even amongst the locals. We started out by heading up a trail and boardwalk (where, I might add, we had seen a mama bear and her cubs disappear just the afternoon before) to a cabin in the woods.

After a breather to warm up, we set off directly across the meadows.

Or, should I say, the bog.

And just like that...we were done.*

Not shown: General smack talking, life story relating, beer sampling, pained foam rolling, cards against humanity-ing, guitar playing (ok, just Garrett), detours down icy hills, cow parsnip, eagle fights, and all around good times and shenanigans

The takeaways: coming soon!

*Ok, Garrett from Kansas did team up with me and Meredith to run the most awesome midnight 5K ever. Oh yah and there were other random adventures we had in Alaska.

Thrift shop!

Gee Mer, I don't think we should have left those fish heads here.

Yarr!