At Sixteen Weeks

There are sixteen weeks until the 2012 Susitna 100. Among the things I plan to do to prepare are: get leaner (I have thankfully shed the 10 pounds I gained over the last year already), get stronger (I plan to hit the gym twice a week and do heavy squats, deadlifts, kettlebell swings and shoulder presses for good measure), get faster (my endurance is fine but I could use some fast twitchers) and get used to walking in snow. We don’t have snow yet, so I should be doing ankle exercises or something. Of course, I’m not. Nor am I doing much that promotes getting leaner. I have been going to the gym at least and hit the track this morning, so 50% is a start.

Since my training isn’t yet in full swing I’m doing what I much prefer to do: think about gear. I still have Andrew’s sled and harness which he let me borrow last year, but I think I ought to get my own pulk system. He uses his with his kiddos and I feel bad for depriving him of it for most of last winter. The main thing I am contemplating is the waist belt system. I want a large pocket on the front in which I can keep many hours’ worth of Snickers, my light and anything else I will need between checkpoints so I don’t have to stop at all except when physically required. I am not sure what the best bet is. I clearly need to enlist Dave as my consultant, since he makes all manner of gear and is a genius when it comes to creating useful stuff.

It also is never too soon to consider what to bring. There is required gear, but beyond that I brought far too much stuff last year. It is required that one’s sled contain 15 pounds of stuff, including required gear. Mine was around 40 pounds. To some extent it helps to know more about the race-day conditions when planning, but assuming it will be cold as hedoublehockeysticks like it was last year, I plan to pack:

 Required gear (sleeping bag, pad, food, bivy, water, lights)

 Feathered Friends puffy coat (this would have saved me last year)

 one extra pair of mitts or gloves (last year I brought a million which was unnecessary)

 one extra hat (last year I brought a million which was unnecessary)

 Balaclava (maybe two since they get gross)

 Duct tape, foot kit, 5 pairs of extra socks (easy to grab from the sled to bring into the checkpoints with me)

 iPods/camera (on my person probably to keep batteries warm)

 copious amounts of handwarmers

 snowshoes (depending on conditions)

 lightweight rain pullover (or heavy one depending on conditions)


The key here is to have the FF puffy readily available the second I get into the sled. In other words, the first thing I do will be to put on my coat before doing anything else. This is key. Second, I will have my food divided into 6 baggies and have each on my person between checkpoints. I do not want to stop to get food. When I leave each checkpoint I want to be able to grab the baggie for that segment, put it in my geniusly constructed and engineered easily-accessible front pocket and go. My lights will be in the corresponding baggie so I don’t have to stop to get my light either. No stopping. Unless it’s really warm of course, all stopping should be only when it’s warm… this is all I have for now. All suggestions and comments are welcome. We do have, after all, 16 weeks to obsess.

Whitefish Legacy Trail 20k

Unsure of whether I should sign up for the 10k or 20k, I decided I should err on the side of over-doing it.  That's always the best choice.  No, I hadn't run since last weekend and had no idea if I would feel ok or fall apart.  I figured it was looking like a beautiful fall day so I wanted to maximize my time outside and hoped for the best.  Indeed, it was sunny and cool with bright yellow aspen trees, sparkly lakes and smooth single track.  At one point it smelled like my favorite scratch 'n sniff sticker from when I was little, though I cannot remember what the sticker was supposed to smell like.  It felt incredible to run -- like running in a dream.  I felt like I was sprinting -- of course my average pace was around 10:45 or something which might suggest I wasn't actually sprinting.  I finished third from last, which was somewhat annoying since, you know, I felt like I was sprinting and all.  And, the reality is that both knees were creaky, as was my left calf and both feet.  I am not 100% but hope to be there soon. 

Next up is Susitna 100 -- Danni's Revenge.  As some of you know, I dropped last year at the last checkpoint after shin pain slowed me to the point where I couldn't stay warm.  This year I have a very warm puffy coat so I should be able to stay warm.  Further, I will do some ankle strengthening stuff and specific snow-walking in hopes of avoiding similar issues.  I have four months until Su which should offer plenty of time to get ready.  My plan is to lose some more weight (I've finally dropped the 10 pounds I gained over the past couple of years), lift more heavy weights, walk in the snow, do ankle exercises and, of course, ski.  I will also run with my girlfriends Leanne and Allison who want to train for a March marathon.  If I do all of these things I should be in good shape to finish Su.

I don't think I'll plan any adventures between now and then.  I should probably do some work...     

Slickrock 100

Turn up the signal, wipe out the noise... I have no idea what Peter Gabriel meant when he wrote Signal to Noise, but when it played on my iPod, set on shuffle, at sunset, it seemed the perfect accompaniment.  You would guess that I learned my lesson about iPod shuffles at sunset after the Susitna-Gorecki-sunset meltdown, but I'm glad I didn't.  Anyhow, the ability to "wipe out the noise" is why I love being outside for silly lengths of time.  It's basically impossible to think about much less worry about things like work or whatever else.  Everything is boiled down to the essential: move forward, eat and drink (or rather "go forward, move ahead, try to detect it, it's not too late, to whip it..." (that's Ted's addition to this report)).  Maybe also: check out the scenery.  Anyhow, onto my "report."

Meghan, Danni, Beat and Roger at the rainy start

I ran the Slickrock 100 this weekend and it was my best 100 yet.  I felt great the whole time except for some minor foot achiness near the end.  I never had a low and had fun the entire time.  Who thought it was possible?  I flew into SLC and my friend Meghan, who I backpacked with in the Uintas, picked me up and took me out for Indian food in Salt Lake City.  I am so ethnic food deprived here in NW Montana.  It was a real treat.  Saturday we met up with Beat and our new friend Roger from Australia, who is hilarious.  We attended the pre-race meeting where we learned of a "quicksand situation" that would require a complete course reroute and then had dinner at the Moab Brewery (the race is outside Moab, between Arches and Canyonlands).

stunning scenery

The start of the race was rainy, as was most of Saturday, but it was beautiful nonetheless.  The new course was going to be tougher than the original race course, so my goals had to go by the wayside (since I didn't formally train it was somewhat absurd to have goals) but I didn't really care.  I was just there to have fun really.

that Cherokee drove up that...

The course is run mostly on jeep trail, and I was astonished by the places people take motor vehicles.  I mean, I would NEVER get in a car that was going to drive straight up a rock wall.  NEVER EVER. 

Martin did not want to be photographed -- silly Martin!

I ran into my friend Martin who lives in Helena and got to chat with him for a short while before he was far ahead of me.  That was a real treat since I rarely get to see him, except for at the occasional race.

The race was mostly uneventful, which is a first for me.  I was happy and never cried.  The only thing that was somewhat eventful was when Jill (HERE is her report, which is much more interesting than mine), who flew in from California to pace me (thankyousomuchwhatagreatfriend), met up with me at mile 53, we got to chatting and took a wrong turn.  It was awhile before we realized it and ran back to the correct road.  We then continued on for sometime until we pulled into the aid station, where we were told "you were already here."  Ooops.  We went back the way we came in the wrong direction.  We even remarked "so strange how this is downhill both ways."  Yeah...

busy on the slickrock

After realizing this, I started remarking politely: "*$%! &$^! &$^!"  The race director was there and said I could subtract the distance from the final out-and-back (on the second reroute).  Wow.  I have never heard of that.  I was back to being supremely happy.  It was great too because Jill and I got lost a second time.  We even said many times "we are going to pay close attention now!"  And I would say we did.  But sometimes it's hard in the night in the desert to go the right way I think.

random grave of child

I will have to Google Mary Jane Francis.  Poor little girl.

RIP Mary Jane Francis

On the final out and back we calculated by our GPSs that I had 15 more miles so we set out for 7.5 and were going to turn around.  The turn around was about 4.5 miles out, so regardless of what the total distance was for everyone, I ran 5.5 miles more than everyone else (who didn't get lost).  I am guessing I ran close-ish to 100 miles though a tad short, up to 5 miles short (which would be 10 miles for the other runners).  Someone else thought it was more than 100 -- Garmins aren't 100% reliable but I would put my money on the race being short.  Regardless, trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth, I finished in 25:24, a significant PR for me.   My best 100 time (of the two prior ones I'd finished) was 29:10 or something like that.

the Colorado River

I am really pleased.  I feel as if though training could allow me to someday run 100 under 24 hours.  I'd like to retire from 100s but this really fueled my interest.  There's nothing better (or rarer) than a race that goes smoothly.  I should probably stop now while I'm ahead but that hardly fits with the excessive unhealthy nature of ultramarathon running.

sunset

sunrise

my puffy hand -- "the hot" as Meghan would say

The only weird thing was my puffiness.  I get puffy normally, but this was out of control.  Does anyone know how it's possible to get so puffy?  I think my electrolytes might have been off already due to wine consumption earlier in the week, but I have never gotten this grotesquely puffy.  Gross.  But fascinating.  Can't look away, can you?

pacer Jill Homer

our camp area

All in all, it was a great weekend and a fabulous race and I couldn't be happier.  The race itself wasn't without glitches but weather and brand-new-ness of the race combined to work against the RDs.  I have no major issues and appreciated the opportunity to go wipe out the noise.

Limp In, Leap Out

According to its Chamber of Commerce, this is the motto of Hot Springs, Montana.  I can't actually find any proof, but according to Elisa, Hot Springs has the second most healingest waters anywhere.  Well it's hard to beat that.  Thus, we rode bikes to Hot Springs on Saturday, taking a rather arduous back road route.  I mean, there's no point in "tapering" when you haven't "trained" for a race, right?  Am I right? 

Because it's Elisa, she taped speakers and an iPod to her bike.  We couldn't possibly do this ride without Madonna.  She tried to tell me that the only song on the iPod was "Lucky Star" by Madonna, but she wasn't facile enough with the iPod to put it on repeat so the truth was quickly revealed.  It was actually really great fun having tunes the whole time.

The road basically climbs for about 20 miles then goes down for about 5 and is then flat for 20 more miles.  Hardly seems fair but the road was pretty bad in places which made the downhill a little scary.  My brain was shaking so hard I couldn't see.  So I rode my brakes quite a bit.

My favorite thing was that of the things Elisa was carrying in her small backpack, she had a bottle of homemade raspberry wine that she reported "tastes terrible until the second sip."  She brought this in case we found ourselves stuck in a ditch killing time, waiting for a ride or something (we saw almost no cars and there's no cell service so the wine would have helped for awhile I'm sure).

Alas, there was no sitting in the ditch and instead I drank the raspberry wine, to which I added water for rehydration purposes, in one of the hot springs pools.  I certainly came in limping and left leaping but I'm not sure if it was those healing waters or Caleb's homemade raspberry wine...

I'm sure that it's all good preparation for the Slickrock 100 this weekend.  If nothing else I'll enjoy the company of friends and get to enjoy some desert before hunkering down for winter.

No man is an island

Last weekend I returned to Madison for my ten year law school reunion.  I was on the fence about going but am really glad I went.  I had the chance to catch up with good friends.  Cheryl drove all the way up from Chicago to basically just have lunch with me.  My friend Angela came along for the football game which was great because otherwise I wouldn't have had the chance to see her.

I had the chance to catch up with two of my besties from law school.  There were four of us in a study group and we remarked as we caught up over beers that we couldn't have done what we all did alone -- together we made us all 300% better.  We all did super well in school and it's because we were together and spent every finals period at our table in the library helping each other and holding each other accountable.  These were and still are incredibly good friends as well, and though we hadn't seen each other in many years it was completely natural as if we'd just hung out the day before.

Jake, me and CJ

I thought it was a good reminder that I would never be where I am today without my friends.  I've been fortunate enough to be blessed with so many incredibly good friends who have helped me through so many things in life.  I could never be a hermit.  I'd be dead hermit :p 

Me and Cheryl

It was great to get back to Madison.  I tried to visit as much as I had time for -- that included every bar we could squeeze in.  Definitely a weekened of debauchery but it was incredibly fun. 

a "tech dingy" (tippy sail boats)

I used to sail!  Maybe someday we'll sail again.  Flathead Lake is pretty big though.

Union Terrace

Orpheum -- where Ted and I had our wedding reception

Where Prof. Komesar taught us to "lawyer it both ways"

law school atrium

My home for three years -- law school library

More on the Uintas trip + nearly shoulder season

HERE is Meghan's writeup and pictures.  I've said it before and I'll say it again -- she's awesome.

It's the time of year where I don't have much to say -- it's because I'm tired and ready to enjoy the shoulder season.  To me the shoulder season (i.e. no longer great hiking but not skiing season yet, or can't hike yet but the snow sucks for skiing) means sit around and eat bon bons.  Or something.  Until ski season I might do nothing.  (Other than "run" Slickrock 100 in two weeks).  Maybe one last hike if my schedule permits...seeing how it's actually fall and beautiful and perfect hiking season.  But I'm ready to do nothing. 

Four days in the High Uintas Wilderness



Meghan heading up Red Knob Pass

 I just returned from a four day backpacking trip in the High Uintas Wilderness in Utah. I believe the Uintas are the only mountain range (or one of the very few at least) to run east/west rather than north/south. Perhaps this is one of the things that makes them such a magical place.

Danni and Meghan right before setting out -- courtesy of Meghan Hicks (taken by Bryon Powell)



Danni and Meghan on the first full day


Awhile ago I was musing about how much I really longed for a backpacking trip --- I believe on my blog. My friend Meghan Hicks contacted me and let me know that she was planning to hike the Highline Trail in the Uintas – 80 miles of it – and invited me to come. Within seconds I’d booked my flight and started planning, which for me of course means considering and acquiring gear… anyhow, I shouldn’t admit that.




Meghan on Deadhorse Pass at sunrise




Magical Deadhorse Basin

We began (if memory serves) at what is normally the end for people – Hayden Pass – and planned to finish at Hacking Lake (an 80ish mile journey to be completed in four days), but decided to finish at Chepeta Lake (with a bit of road walking we hiked about 70 miles). We hadn’t factored in delays due to lightning storms, which one does not want to be in above treeline at 12,000 feet. We were in several well above 10,000 feet but managed to not be caught above treeline, thanks for Meghan’s uncanny spidey sense in detecting brewing storms.





Meghan descending into Deadhorse Basin off the pass




Deadhorse Lake (?)

 Another thing we did not anticipate was how technical the trail could be at times, when it existed, and what a disappearing act the trail could be. There was some navigation involved, which slowed us a little, and all-in-all our goal turned out to be a bit aggressive under the circumstances. Since both of us are ultra-runners, it never occurred to us that hiking 20 miles per day could be aggressive. I guess we forgot about how mother nature is in charge sometimes.


Meghan crossing one of many creeks -- Deadhorse Basin



Meghan on Red Knob Pass

To summarize the trip, it was absolutely incredible. The scenery was diverse and ranged from southwesty looking red rock to high scree covered mountains to forested expanses to marshy moose-country meadows. The place was so magical I half expected to see a unicorn fly by. The company was perfect as well, since Meghan is a laid-back easy-going chica. I couldn’t count the number of times I laughed until I cried. I can, however, count the number of times I was annoyed or exasperated – zero. She’s good people.

There were so many incredible aspects to the trip, but for now I’ll recount one that is pretty typical of this trip (excluding the terrifying experience of sitting at 11,000 feet hearing thunder and lightning so close together there’s no counting between the two). On the first day as we approached a significant pass – Deadhorse Pass – a storm was moving in so we set up camp early.

The basin looking back from Porcupine Pass

We missed being pelted with hail by mere seconds and took refuge under our tent (loaned by friend Dave – it was awesome (a Golite Shangri-la 2). Because we began by getting behind, we decided to leave super early before it was light out to make up mileage. (Note: this didn’t work that well as navigation is much tougher in the dark).

The moon setting

The trail up to the pass sometimes resembled goat trails you see in Glacier, which are narrow, slanty/washed out and super exposed. My heart pounded a bit, particularly since the trail was covered in hail. When we reached the top of this amazing pass it took some time to find the trail down the other side. There was a large rock cairn that led us to believe that the route down was right there, though we finally determined that if there was class 4 scrambling involved we would have known about it in advance.

Meghan almost to the top of Anderson Pass

As we descended the actual trail, which Meghan found after scouting the entire ridge while I putzed around and spaced out, the sun began to rise and revealed the most magnificent scenery imaginable. The light, the rock, the basin – it all glowed in hues of orange, red and pink. I felt a euphoria that would reappear again and again throughout the hike.

Meghan almost to the top of North Pole Pass

Long shadows on North Pole Pass

Finally we descended into a hail-covered basin that, though cold, was definitely a likely spot for a unicorn sighting. Enjoying coffee in the brisk chill, breathing in the big-country beauty and watching the sun slowly make its way over the surrounding mountain peaks, I knew that there’s little in life I love more than being outside engulfed in natural beauty. It just makes me feel good.

North Pole Pass (me) (photo courtesy of Meghan Hicks)

near Kings Peak, courtesy of Meghan Hicks (photo and trip)

Our abode -- photo by Meghan Hicks



Me in total bliss descending Deadhorse Pass



Yes you can (2011 Swan Crest -- 50k)

One of the fun things about "running" (I walk a lot) ultra-distances is that no matter what I think I can or can't do in life, and no matter my actual limitations, I have the opportunity to remind myself that sometimes achieving is nothing more than putting one foot in front of the other and continuing on until the finish.

Zella and Elisa

Sunday marked the fifth year I've run the Swan Crest 57k, though due to fires and trail closures this year's course was different and about 50k.  I was sort of "meh" about actually running but my girlfriend Elisa really wanted to do it because she wasn't sure if she could.  She had been musing about the challenge for a little while and though she considered bailing a couple days earlier, she rallied and gave it a go. She totally did it.  No problem.  She put one foot in front of the other until the very end.  That's all it took (along with some patience, pushing through mental and physical fatigue and a little pain).  I'm really glad I got to be part of her experience and am especially glad that I went out and enjoyed the day.  (Also, I'm technically training for a hundred so I should technically do some long runs first).

photo and watermelon courtesy of Brad (well, Brad didn't buy the watermelon but he carried it up the mountain)

Indeed, the day was perfect and the company was even better.  We camped a couple nights, drank beer and ate lots.  A great way to spend Labor Day weekend.