A fungi thing happened on the way to Stanton Lake

Today was a perfect fall day -- warm, sunny and orangey filtered autumn light -- so we did a little hike near GNP to Stanton Lake.  It was shroomtastic.

Sonja was furious because she had to hang out in the car while wearing the cone of shame, but Zeke had a nice time I think.

Ted and I are good at bringing plenty to drink on our hikes.  It's important to stay fueled.

The grassy area here was perfect for laying in the grass, staring at the sky and taking a million photos of butterflies, none of which I'm going to post because I was frustratingly unable to capture just the right photo.  Zeke kept trying to eat them.

May as well ride this train. . .

I realize how incredibly sadly pathetic it is to be so pleased with myself over winning an age group award in a tiny marathon with the finish time I had but since I've never done so in a marathon I'm going to ride the self-congratulatory lame train as long as I can.  And since blogging is profoundly egocentric to begin with, I may as well go full bore.  Iris took this picture of me accepting my award:



Yay me!  Super awesome!

 The results have been posted and I was 12th woman out of 92, 3rd out of 28 in the 30-39F and 33rd overall out of 183.  I may as well enjoy this morsel of awesome since I always, literally, place last or close to last at trail ultras.

Salmon Marathon Report

This week I decided at the last minute to sign up for the Salmon Marathon in Salmon, Idaho. I think my upcoming 50 miler is in 3 weeks so it seemed like it would be a good training run. In the few weeks preceding the marathon I'd done a 28 mile trail run (last Saturday), a 21 mile trail run (that preceding Monday) a 23-25 mile mega-hike and a bunch of other hikes this summer. My neighbor and I run 5 miles in the morning a couple times per week.

the view from our hotel room on the Salmon River

The main reason to go to Salmon was that a bunch of my running buddies were going.  I figured it would be fun to go spend the weekend with some girls and get some running in.  I went into the race with no taper, dehydration (don't ask) and little road running training.  My last long road run was the 10 miles raced at the Solider Field race in Chicago on Memorial Day weekend.  I knew that, clearly, I should set an agressive goal under these circumstances.

Iris, Danni, Mary Beth (aka Flatlander), Mary Ann, Ruth, Deb and Callie

I had it in my mind that now that I'm in a new age group I should be able to qualify for the Boston Marathon with little effort.  This is pretty dumb since I'm slow by nature and though my PR is 3:37 the vast majority of my marathons have been over 4 hours.  Anyhow, I've run Boston twice and think it's a ton of fun.  When I accidentally called my friend Ed the other day instead of Ted, Ed, who lives in Boston, informed me that he would complete his PhD soon and if I wanted a free place to stay I'd better hurry up and run Boston again soon.  So, I decided my goal for Salmon would be a 3:45, my new BQ time.  I think this comes out to roughly a 8:35 average pace.  I guess since I haven't run a marathon in years I forgot that it's actually hard for me to run a fast marathon and requires specific training and good pre-race preparation.  My splits looked like this:

1 -- 8:27
2 -- 8:27
3 -- 8:24
4 -- 8:20
5 -- 8:31
6 -- 8:13
7 -- 8:40
8 -- 9:02 (uphill)
9 -- 7:30 (downhill)
10 -- 8:13
11 -- 8:16
12 -- 9:02
13 -- 8:07
14 -- 9:27  (these next few miles involved the uphill slog of death in some manner)
15 -- 9:39
16 -- 9:14
17 -- 8:14
18 -- 8:12
19 -- 8:39
20 -- 8:41
21 -- 8:41
22 -- 9:01
23 -- 9:14
24 -- 14:14 (gave up)
25 -- 10:38
26 -- 9:09
.2 -- 2:04

At mile 23ish I did some number crunching and decided I wasn't going to make it so I stopped.  Relatedly, around mile 23 I developed a muscle cramp in my hamstring and calf and it started seizing up and hurting.  I probably could have pushed through if this were a matter of life and death, or I cared that much, but I sort of didn't and threw in the towel.  My finish time was something like 3:54.   I can see where I could have easily shaved off about 4 minutes. . . but a 3:45 wasn't really in the cards.

Nonetheless, I had fun.  Road running brings out the OCD side of me and reminds me why I sort of switched to trails and ultras.  Now that I arbitrarily set this marathon goal and failed completely I'm back to wanting to run a sub-3:30.  It all makes sense, yes? 

The Salmon Marathon is AWESOME.  Beautiful, logistically easy, fairly fast (though at nearly 5,000 feet to start with what seemed like significant hills to the flatlander and one 1.5 mile slog uphill that about killed me) and super mellow.  There was beer at the finish and the people of Salmon pretty much rock.  I highly recommend this race to anyone wanting a low-key gorgeous race.  Definitely PR material depending on sensitivity to elevation and hills.

The cool part was that I won 3rd in my age group.  And yes there were more than 3 people in my age group :p  I think there were 22 or so :-)  So that made me happy.  My highest marathon placement :-)

Swan Crest Run 2010

This weekend I ran a version of the Swan Crest 57k for the fourth consecutive year.  This is a perennial favorite of mine -- the trail is fantastic and it's always a lot of fun.  Last year it was run as a "fat ass" event and this year was yet more informal and casual.  In fact, my friend Erich and I were the only two humans planning to run and a small group of guys mountainbiked.  Zella the dog ran too.

I started a little early assuming the mountainbikers would speed past me and that Erich would easily finish a couple or a few hours before me.  I hate making people wait, though having Zella assured that at least her master (Brad) would wait around for me. 

I felt quite good early on and enjoyed the run.  Zella and I cruised along stopping for pictures and such.

Erich caught me fairly quickly despite having started half an hour after I did.  We ran and chatted and he ended up staying with me.  This was super nice of him since he's really fast.  It was a lot of fun hanging out.  I started to feel icky after awhile, probably a combination of drinking too much beer and wine Friday night and not eating and drinking enough during the run.  I also went out faster than I normally would which likely compounded my malaise. 

Despite my increasingly slowed pace, we never saw the mountainbikers.  At mile 19 we still hadn't seen them.  We ultrimately took a faster/shorter route back, ending with a little under 28 miles, and waited forever for their sorry mountainbiker asses.  I am endlessly amused by the fact that mountainbiking isn't necessarily faster than running.  I'm sure it's great fun for the mountainbikers, and by no means does speed determine the superior way to enjoy trails, but it doesn't make me want to rush out and buy a mountainbike. 

Sonja had to sit this one out as she had a little incident Friday night involving her escaping and getting hit by a car.  Thankfully she's ok with a couple broken bones and a gazillion stitches.  It was scary but we love our doggie and are sure glad she wasn't killed.

Winter is fast approaching. . .

These pictures are from last Sunday (Jewel Basin hike) and Monday (21 mile trail run with special guest dog Zella) but yesterday I took the day off to hike with my folks who are visiting from KC.  We were snowed on and it got pretty cold.  I tried to pretend to be cheerful but I got pretty wet and miserable.  Thankfully we were able to quickly find coffee/hot chocolate and soon thereafter found beer.   

Can you see my friend Zella in this picture?

Here is a video Dave made of our hike last Saturday.  I forgot to mention in my previous entry the cool music that accompanied our hiking and blared from the sky.  I think Brad arranged that part for us now that he only listens to dance music.  I'm glad Dave didn't include the full 20 seconds of me at the end *not* making progress up the rock chimney.   


Forever Lost from Dave Chenault on Vimeo.

A walk in the Park

When it comes to heights and exposure, I range from extremely cautious to hysterical. For this reason, I was very proud of myself for surviving and even enjoying (a lot) the “hike” we did on Saturday. My friend Brad, who does not seem so troubled by heights, exposure or seemingly dangerous situations in general, took me, Jill and Dave on an epic ridge walk from Two Medicine to near Marias Pass on the east side of Glacier National Park. The hike began on a trail, which was on its own beautiful and featured breathtaking views of the mountains to one side and prairie to the other. We snapped a lot of pictures not realizing that this part of the day would pale in comparison to the rest. The wind was strong but the temperature was nearly perfect.

We came to the spot where we left the trail and headed towards a knobby peak that we were to climb. The ground was a little unstable feeling and rocky, but slowly and steadily we climbed to the top of this knob. I thought to myself: “I hope this is the scariest part of the day.” In hindsight, this was nothing.

At the top we were treated to incredible views and gale force winds. We sat, snacked and prepared for the remaining “walk” (as Brad likes to call it). Before we set out, Jill asked whether we would be climbing on top of a jagged impossible looking peak. “No way” I said, sure such a thing was impossible and that even if it were, I could not possibly do it. We started heading towards the impossible looking knife edge, and then Brad pre-viewed that our stroll would mostly be mellow walking but that there was “one kind of steep part.”

the foreboding ridge is the one to the right

snack time!  it's the best time. . .

It became quickly apparent that the plan did involve getting on top of the ridiculously impossible looking knife-edged-crumbly-rock peak. And sure enough we came to the “steep” part, which was not so much steep but vertical. It wasn’t super tall but a chimney of rock stood between us and the tippy top of the ridge. I checked to see if I might be able to go around, but circumnavigating the peak wasn’t much more palatable as the terrain dropped off on both sides. Jill and I were both apprehensive, since neither of us are the most intrepid of mountaineers, but we gave it the old college try. Brad took each of us up one-by-one guiding our hands and feet and reassuringly coaxing us up the rock. I shakingly made it up though I had to recompose myself near the top. I believe it was at that point that I kicked a large rock down towards Jill’s head. Brad diverted it with his hand, which resulted in a bloody mess. Although he had blood all over him, he shrugged it off – I was somewhat reminded of the Black Knight in the Monty Python Holy Grail movie. Jill made it up quickly and seemed to have no trouble with the climb.

picture courtesy of Jill Homer

I think Jill and I both strengthened our nerves and skills on this walk in the park. Dave and Brad are both experienced climbers and adventurers. I was really glad to have Jill there, since knowing we were both pushing the limits of our comfort zone made me feel braver. I think I would have just felt like a wuss alone in the company of Brad and Dave, mountaineers extraordinaire. I consider Jill to be pretty badass so knowing we were both apprehensive made it feel more like an adventure and a challenge than a mere opportunity to embarrass myself.

The views were consistently breathtaking. As was the wind. Gusts nearly knocked me over. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced wind like that. It definitely added to the epic nature of this stroll.

Eventually we came to my next challenge, which was a tall (to me) mountain of scree that we were to climb. I’d basically never experienced scree, since I normally confine my adventures to those wacky “trail” things, so the sensation of sliding two steps back for every step forward was unnerving. I wasn’t going to go anywhere if I fell, but the sensation of climbing high on a mountain of slidey shale-like scree was disconcerting. At one point Jill was close by and I informed her that I thought I might throw up. Jill was totally fine. She kindly got ahead and led me to the top. We made it and I again felt elated and victorious. And, by the time I made it to the top, I realized that despite the sliding I wasn’t going to slide all the way to the bottom. In hindsight it was no big deal, though on the way up I was a little nervous.

we really did climb this thing

The rest of the walk was a mix of easy walking on beautifully desolate moonscape and slightly unnerving scree. We walked some cliff bands that rattled Jill a little, since her fears seem to be based more on real danger than perceived danger (my instincts are probably sort of bad from lack of experience), and enjoyed some fun trips down mountainsides of scree. We found a great goat trail that offered an easy traverse on one slope. Those goats make good trails, though Jill keenly noted that goats don’t tend to get vertigo so their trails aren’t always in the most comfortable spots. The scree became fun. Who knew that the deepest and loosest scree was the funnest to walk (or run) down? It was fun seeing Dave’s entire face light up as he ran fast down the scree. I cautiously kicked in my heels to make sure I never lost control, but appreciated the potential for fun.

Dave making a movie of screaming down the scree

Eventually we met up with a trail that would take us back to the car. We had climbed roughly 11,000 feet over the course of 23-25 miles (my Garmin battery was dead and for some reason none of us with our techie gadgetry knew for sure how far we had travelled). I was elated to have enjoyed myself and survived the day. Again I was reminded of how worthwhile it can be to push the boundaries of my comfort zone. My comfort zone is now somewhat expanded. Yay me. I enjoyed my earned and well-deserved beer.

Jill and Dave enjoy their well-earned respective treats

Sunday and Monday were super awesome as well, but I will save my pictures and report for later.