White Mountains 100 -- Part I (Introductory Ramblings)

This is ridiculous.  I’m not doing this.  As I sat shivering in the tent, waiting for the warmth of the stove to make the discomfort of being very cold go away, it was 100% clear to me that my apparent drive to put myself through hell in the name of sport needed to stop.  I looked over at the volunteer stoking the fire for me and bending backwards to try to help me in any way he could, even though the sauna like conditions must have been unpleasant for him, and felt terrible that this wonderful guy was having to expend time and energy warming some dumb girl who, evidently, lacked the sense to avoid trudging through the Fairbanks backcountry in the cold.  He was bundled in thick snow-machining garb, complete with the “bunny boots” that are ubiquitous in the Fairbanks area.  “This is really nice of you” I told him.  “It’s fun” he lied.  He heated some water and made a hot water bottle with a Nalgene for me to put in my shirt.  I started to warm up both physically and emotionally and after probably an hour of sitting in what is not intended to be a checkpoint, and is instead intended only as an emergency warming station after the “ice lakes” section of the White Mountains 100, I ventured back outside.  This is fun!

photo credit: Lucy Bettis (me early on in the race)

The White Mountains 100, like Susitna only much harder, is entirely on snow machine trail and can be travelled by bike, ski or foot.  I was one of a half-dozen idiots to do the race on foot.  Snow biking or skiing is typically, though not always, a better mode of transport in snow.  This year skiing was tough since there was constant fresh, dry “sugar” snow that makes for terrible glide.  The skiers were putting kick wax on their skate skis since there was no skating to be done.  My sled felt especially heavy for most of the race since it too was having trouble gliding efficiently.  I was never able to weigh it but I am guessing that my sled was only 20 pounds max.  I was only carrying food and extra clothes (plus some emergency stuff like an emergency bivy and matches). 

The week prior to the race I had decided to bag it.  It was stressing me out and my heart wasn’t really into it.  But then after talking to Jill I decided that it would probably be fun and I should do it.  Of course, I later realized that I was talking to someone who had only biked the course and was able to finish in under 20 hours.  (That said, she would love walking the course and think it was the best thing ever).  I was worried that my ambivalence would make it difficult to finish the race, and I was right.  I couldn’t, at any time during the race, explain to myself why I was there or what my objective was.  I asked myself at one point to focus on what had been good rather than chanting repeatedly in my head “this is horrible.” “I eventually warmed up after the ice lakes.  That’s all I got.”  Although I recall that I had all these negative self-chats and chastised myself for ignoring my friend Kevin’s reminder that I had previously promised myself to be kind to myself (something I consistently ignore), I cannot now feel anything but warm and fuzzy about the experience.  I also know that I kept asking myself “what exactly is so terrible?” and found that the answer was always “I am fine, this is sort of beautiful and neat.”  It was both beautiful and neat. 

TO BE CONTINUED...

Dogtooth Dash 2013



This weekend a sizeable group of friends and I (there were 8 of us total) went to Golden, BC's Kicking Horse ski resort for the second time to do the "Dogtooth Dash" ski mountaineering race.  Somehow I was able to convince my friend Emily, pictured below on the left, that she should come do the "rec" division, even though she only started skiing this season and only began tentatively trying blue groomers.  It seemed to me, and I was correct, that she could side-slip the tougher downhills on the course and would enjoy the race.  I'm not sure she enjoyed it, but she finished it with a smile.

friends!

Having convinced her to go, I agreed to do the entire race with Emily and stick with her (unless she wanted to go ahead on the uphills -- she's a fast and super strong athlete).  I'm not sure she had ever done a kick turn before, but she was doing them by the end of the race (nothing like baptism by fire).  She achieved quite a lot for someone in her first season.  She dropped into a steep bowl, got down the double black diamond run (which she had been permitted to believe was not really going to be steeper than a blue run), made it up some gnarly skin track, boot packed with less than awesome steps pre-kicked in, skied giant icy moguls/bumps and generally amazed me.  I can assure you that I would *not* have been doing that in my first season (this being my fourth).  I wasn't totally sure I wanted to be doing it on Saturday, really.


not a blue run (and steeper than this pic makes it look, at least up higher is much steeper)

Meanwhile, Amber stepped things up and did the Elite course, which featured 6,000 ft of vertical climbing (which is a lot) and some impressively sketchy downhills.  For the first time in her skiing career she was side stepping down a run (which she described as a "death chute" -- "%&$ that!" she reported).  I am glad I am not so ambitious.  She is super badass.

definitely not "blue" in those cliffs

Since I have White Mountains 100 next weekend, I was hoping I would not have to do any more than was minimally necessary to make sure Emily didn't die.  I nonetheless chose to use my "heavy metal" setup, with a combined ski/binding weight of 12 pounds (boots add another 6.5 pounds or so), and am now (not surprisingly) a bit sore.      

Amber is my hero

I made sure we enjoyed some Caesares, the national Canadian drink (I am making that up but if it isn't it should be).  It was a really fun weekend and it never caesares to amaze me how cool my friends are.

my contribution to the idea pool (stop skiing, get Cesares)

On the subject of White Mountains, I am mentally getting prepared this week by making lists and being generally distracted at work.  This seems to be the extent of my pre-race routine... I will admit to being very nervous having never done this course before.  I am also incredibly wiped and hoping I get over whatever malaise is consuming me. 

Glacier National Park in March

On the way to Choteau last weekend, our friend Phil started excitedly describing a ski traverse he had done with our friend Brad.  He couldn't remember where it started, but he knew it was awesome.  By a stroke of luck, Brad was planning to take a couple of folks on this traverse yesterday and invited me and Dave to come along.  Brad emphasized that it would be a full day so we met at 5:30 a.m. and got started around 7:30 a.m.

It was nothing short of glorious.  We had sun, which makes itself scarce here during the winter, and mild temperatures.  The snow at lower elevations was hard crust, but for the most part we skied great snow and had a wonderful day totalling 7500 feet of climbing and 8000 feet of downhill.

Near the end I hit a wall and my quads were on fire.  I was so tired I felt like I could just puke or lay down and die.  I may have been challenged on a couple slightly more technical climbs... and had to crawl to avoid falling into a stream and duct tape my boots and require an embarassing level of help/instruction/guidance near the end getting out of the drainage... But it was totally worth it.  This is why I live here.  Such a great day.

Jack & Jill Went Up the Hill

Yesterday the C-Team and its honorary member Phil (he's too good at stuff to really be C-Team material) did the first annual Jack & Jill ski mountaineering race at the small, obscure and remote Teton Pass ski hill.

photo belongs to Teton Pass ski resort

There was a le mans start where we had to run to our skis, put them on and then go.  There were two climbs with the first being significantly longer than the second.  Two downhills as well, both of which were totally managable.  The turnout was amazing with more than 40 people.  It's amazing considering Teton Pass is totally and incredibly remote -- almost an hour's drive from Choteau, Montana, a cute and also fairly obscure town on the Rocky Mountain front -- just outside the Bob Marshall Wilderness. 

Dave, Amber and Phil

Unlike last weekend, I was not last.  In fact, I finished third woman (out of how many I do not know).  I was second on the first ascent but the second place woman out-skied me.  I was in the second transition with her but she took off about a minute before I did and finished 2.5 minutes ahead of me.  She won two coolers of beef -- I just aquired 100+ pounds of bison so I should really be relieved that I didn't win more meat.  I am pleased with being third and despite feeling a bit blobby after a week of unmitigated debauchery, felt like I was able to put in a solid effort and ski the wind-blasted ice/hard pack decently.

Amber WON, as did our friend Phil who took the overall and men's win.  Dave did swimmingly as well.  We might have to become the B- Team with all the winning (or Amber and I cleverly discussed just calling ourselves the A+ Team).  All in all a super fun little adventure and an opportunity to get to know Montana that much better.  I think I am in love with Teton Pass, what with its small hill, dogs running around, great bar and food and $30 lift tickets (free with $35 race entry -- oh and there was all-day free beer).    

Kootenay Coldsmoke Powder Fest -- Skimo Races

This weekend Amber and I travelled to Nelson, BC for the Kootenay Coldsmoke Powder Fest’s “ROAM Randonnee Rally” and funner Poker Run (ski mountaineering races).  I decided to step it up and sign up for the “open division” of the main race rather than the recreational division.  The open division appeared manageable (4200 or so feet of ascent) while the rec division looked pretty short (less than 2000 feet).  Part of the objective, obviously, is to burn as many calories as possible so that I can drink more beer and eat more afterwards.  I wasn’t completely sure I could make the one cut-off in the longer race but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to at least give it a try.

Due to fresh snow, a slightly different course was followed (avy danger required modifications -- and trust me there was avy debris all over the place due to the massive amount of bombing/avy control happening).  But this is a basic picture of the course with green being up and red being down (or more accurately skins on/skins off).

from website

 

On the whole, the skin tracks up were really nice and the descents were fun, powdery out-of-bounds runs.  The tricky parts were the “flat” sections with significant downhill sections that were skied with skins on.  I find it difficult to ski downhill with my skins on, personally.  I spent a lot of time doing this:

I have never fallen down so much in my life

There were two “boot pack” sections, the first of which was where the cut-off was, but I made it with more than half an hour to spare.  The second was pretty steep and began on a traverse.  I think we were initially supposed to somehow ski uphill (without skins) to the beginning of the steep climb, but it was obvious from the foot prints that everyone took their skis off in the middle of the open steep traverse.  A short part of the traverse went downhill which was not very fun with skis on your backpack -- the bottoms of the skis were hitting the ground and dragging a bit.  Sort of unsettling really.  The second boot pack section was pretty steep with cliffs on the sides and looked like this:

there was a handy fixed rope at the top but I basically wanted to puke the whole way up

 

Eventually I made it to the finish, dead last, but pleased to have finished (in 3:47 or something like that).  If it weren’t for the downhill parts I would easily be *not* last.  I am able to pass some folks on the uphills but the descents are still pretty embarrassing for me.  That said, I am improving.  We spent some time chatting with a couple that has done a lot of bike racing and Ironman competitions who did their first skimo race at the ROAM rally -- they both thought it was by far the hardest race they had done.  It's hard to avoid being mostly anaerobic during these things, which is pretty hard physically.  Add to that the technical challenges and you've got a hard race.

The next day Amber and I did the “Poker Run” which was a much shorter skimo race done in teams.  Oddly it had the most difficult descent of the weekend, forcing us to drop into a gully that wasn't exactly easy to get into... but I did it after a bit of consternation.  We were “Damber Damber Dam Dam Dam” and we cleaned up, winning the race (by drawing three Kings).  We also finished well in the top half speed-wise, I would add.  The Poker Run was really fun and included a downhill slolom course.  I no doubt looked JUST LIKE an Olympic ski racer.  Our winners’ loot included avalanche beacons and then Amber won skis.  We are always really lucky in Canada (I previously won an Arc’Teryx jacket and a Dewalt cordless power drill).  We also won really cool homemade belt buckles.

The next and last skimo race of the season will be the Dogtooth Dash in Golden, BC in a few weeks.  I did this one last year, though I bailed on the last loop of the “Enduro” course and did the “rec” course.  This year I’ll likely try to finish the Enduro but will have to think about it since White Mountains 100 is the following weekend...       

Read my Blog Post

Here is the link to a blog post I did for the geargals website.  I am publicly shaming myself here so you might as well see it too.

http://geargals.com/danni-gets-lost/

What have I been up to?  I spent much of the weekend hanging out with a group of rad retired folks (who kick my butt athletically) and it has me wondering how I can swing retirement at, oh, age 40?  Sigh.  The below picture shows me pretending to be awesome but there's definitely something a bit off about my form here.  Oh well.  It was incredibly fun nonetheless.  And yes I will take advice on how to retire in a couple years from now. 

photo by Brian Kennedy

Exorcise with Exercise

 

 

Some weeks just leave a gal feeling completely "blah" and "meh" and "ugh."  A stressful week at work punctuated by the incredibly annoying and saddening theft of yet another purse left me feeling entirely apathetic and slightly anxious.  Although I didn't feel like doing anything at all, Amber got me out for a hike up the ski hill plus a few runs in new (to me)  territory (East Rim).  By the end of the day, I had shaken out approximately 75% of the bad (beers with friends at the brewery doesn't hurt either -- and there may have been ice cream and M&Ms).



Today was Dave's birthday so after a nice brunch he, Amber and I did a little quick slackcountry skiing and after a few hours of nice and mostly untracked snow, some sunshine and some exercise later, I'd finally completely exorcised the remnants of my sub-par week. 

Tis a shame tomorrow is Monday again.

Whitefish Whiteout 2013 - Skimo Season Kickoff

Yesterday was the Whitefish Whiteout, a ski mountaineering race on Big Mountain here in (well, 15 miles north) in Whitefish.  If you don't know, this is a race where you hike up on alpine skis with skins (sort of like carpets) on your skis and then remove the skins and ski downhill and repeat.  The races are typically in-bounds in ski areas but the rules nonetheless require that the racer carry a beacon, probe and shovel.  This race doesn't check, but I carried those things anyhow.  I used my sweet new running pack (thanks Bryon!)  since I knew I wouldn't have a bootpack section on the recreational course, which is my preferred course.  Technically the rules require a 20L backpack.  I was a scofflaw in that regard. 

blurry podium pic (me on right in red hat)

this is also blurry but for some reason makes me laugh 

Amber and I were pretty good about skinning up the mountain for practice and exercise in December, but we've both been battling busy-ness, sickness and just haven't been up there too much lately.  Nonetheless, we enthusiastically tackled the Whitefish Whiteout for the third time.  This year the course was different (for the recreational division, which is what I am still competing in) as, supposedly, people complained last year that the rec division was too "easy."  I am pretty sure that I have said that I wished the rec division was harder, as in LONGER, not steeper or more technical... so anyhow the downhill this year was a treed steeper downhill.  But more on that later.

The good part of Amber's race is that she boldly switched from the recreational division to the "race" division, which is at least three times harder.  She finished in a very respectable time, winning the womens' telemark division.  I am really proud of her and impressed by her bravery.  She reported that there were many moments where she thought to herself "Danni would NOT like this."  I am sure she's correct and am not very close to being ready to move up to that division.

Cole, Amber and me.  Cole did his first ever skimo race with leather boots and his three pin tele bindings and did awesome.  It was a little weird for him -- he's on the US Telemark team and is accustomed to a much different type of racing...

The good part of my race is that I PRed on the uphill by a little more than four minutes, which is a lot when you're talking about skinning up Toni Matt on the Big.  My prior fastest time was 53:02 and this year I made it up in 48:59.  I worked hard for this PR, especially since I'm fatter than I was last year.  I am always pleased with myself when I feel like I actually tried hard in a physical sport activity.  The deal I made with myself was that I could keep doing the recreational division as long as I give it my all on the uphill.  So I did, but it was extremely painful.  My HR was about as high as it gets, it sometimes seemed to get a little dark and I felt like I could puke.  I felt like, and still do, I seared my lungs.  I'm not sure if that's actually good for me but it seems like a good workout.

The transition was ok.  My skins wouldn't come off easily so I had to actually take my skis off to get them off, which probably added a minute or more to my transition time.  In these races, if you're serious about them, which I am not, the transitions are pretty important.  The fast people rip their skins off and go without removing their skis.  It's worth trying to do it this way, though the people with race skis have a different skin setup that makes it easier to remove the skins.  Anyhow, it just wasn't happening for me.  Whatever.  I got my skins off, stuck them on the strap of my pack (a little awkwardly, I'm lucky I didn't lose them) and headed to the downhill.

The downhill was a black diamond run in the trees that I've never skied but figured I'd be ok on.  It would have been fun with fresh snow (or more snow?)  The entrance to the run revealed that it was extremely skied out with defined narrow paths through the trees.  I am not a good tree skier to begin with but snowplowed my way down the top part of the trees.  No biggie.  I felt confident that I'd get down without much difficulty.  Except then it got much steeper.  I side-stepped through narrow skier-made gullies down the trees until I could see where it opened up.  I got myself into a spot that presented a problem in terms of how to get from where I was to where I wanted to be -- after much standing around and deliberation I invented a "sit down kick turn" -- I sat down in the snow (I was on a little flattish spot below a tree) and changed the direction of my skis, pointing them towards the open area.  Yeah!  Once I was in the open area I started linking turns and skied down to the bottom.  However, there can be no question that the downhill section took me a ridiculous amount of time.  People flew by me the whole time... oh if only I was a better downhill skier.  I guess it will come if I keep at it.  It's a little frustrating though...

My transition at the bottom was quick -- there was a girl in my division also transitioning and I felt uncharacteristically competitive.  I got out of there quickly and headed up the "skin track."  Skinning up a skied-out bowl is not easy, though it wasn't horrible.  The guy ahead of me struggled a little as he didn't seem to be doing kick turns -- I was pleased that the uphill seemed much easier for me than for the others around me.  It was a little encouraging moment of "I am getting better at some of this."  I could relate to the problems others were having completely but was pleased that I'm finally advancing a little with my technical skills.  Anyhow, the chica behind me didn't catch me though I did get passed by the winner of the race division, my friend Ben and the second place finisher, Stano.

I finally finished in about 1:30 in third place.  I got to stand on the podium again, which delights me to no end.  Totally ridiculous how much this makes me giddy (standing on a wooden podium).  Watching Amber finish also made me giddy.  She is so awesome.

On the ski down with Kent, Amber and Cole, as I basked in the sun and the buzz of my two IPAs, I felt so incredibly blissed out and reminded about how awfully lucky I am to be able to do this stuff and have such great and fun friends.

I Have New Year's Resolutions Too!

I won't do a year in review, except to say that I had a great year packed with fun and adventure.  This doesn't mean that I don't have resolutions (goals) for this year.  Unlike many others, I actually like the idea of a fresh new year/fresh new start that allows one to consider what changes need to be made.  A brand new year seems like a good time to actually put them into action.  I therefore hereby do for declare that I plan to:

1) Return to being mindful about my meat consumption.  For awhile I was vegetarian due to my disgust at factory farming and all that, but resumed eating meat upon moving to Montana and experiencing a bizarre blood lust while cooking elk for my parents who were visiting.  My return to carnivory involved promises to myself about only eating meat under X or Y conditions but that quickly devolved into just eating whatever (mostly in restaurants, I don't buy grocery store beef and such).  Well, I need to return to being mindful.  And, I have quite a bit of bison from my local ranch and friend at Spring Brook Ranch -- I know (or have access to) information about all the details of the life and death of my food and it's sourced about 5 miles from my house.  Jim, my rancher friend, is good to his animals and cares about the world a whole lot.  There's no reason why I should ever eat red meat other than this bison or game that my friends share with me (or maybe this fall I will obtain myself).  I want to totally cut out pork (again), just because I think pigs are smart and cool.  Chicken is easy to be less principled about because I think they're weird animals... Anyhow, you don't have to think any of this is rational but it will make me feel better.

2)  Keeping a training log again.  I'm basically already failing at this but always enjoy having a record to look back on and see what works for me and what doesn't.  I stopped because I was becoming so OCD about my running mileage that it was controlling my exercise life in a negative way.  I think I'm now past that and do so many other things that I can get back to it.  But I'm really quite out of the habit.

3) Drink less.  I'm not a raging alcoholic or anything but I probably don't ever *need* a third glass of wine.  It just seems like such a good idea after two.

4) Get the dogs out more.  With the addition of Rhino to our family it's tougher to take the dogs running since he doesn't do well on leash (it's the totally wrong pace for him and seems to make him gimpy).  So the dogs have been getting short shrift and it's probably why we have so many problems with them lately.  I've resolved to get them out at least three times per week (ideally every other day at least) when I'm in town and take Rhino to daycare on his "off" days so he can run and play with his friends.  So far this is going well but it gets tough when I'm just not home (I'm on the road a lot).

I think that's all.  Happy New Year blogosphere!

Facing the fall line

Learning to ski has been an exhilirating and frustrating exercise in patience and discipline.  I want to be a great skier NOW! but to get there I have to force myself to always push beyond my comfort zone and work hard on on my technique despite my default sloppy cheating ways down stuff that seems too hard.  Each new season (this being my fourth I think) brings a combination of excitement, because it's fun to ski, and anxiety, because I know I will repeatedly force myself into uncomfortable situations where I am a little fearful (though realistically even if I fall it will just be a tiring effort to get my skis back on and get back upright).  I often wonder why I force myself to do this -- but then I find myself finally putting it all together and making turns down something fairly steep but feeling in control, doing it more or less correctly and realizing that I am actually "skiing" (if slowly and imperfectly), not traversing or side-slipping, down "expert" terrain.*  There is something deeply satisfying about making forward progress in an area that is viscerally the oil to my water -- and somehow having fun along the way. 


But then I go out the next day and suck again.  It's progress nonetheless if incredibly frustrating.

*There may also be new skis involved that are quite easy to ski

A case for speedwork

Sure, speedwork makes you faster (if you don't hurt yourself by overdoing it) and is good for your metabolism ("they" say). What other reason can there be for going to the track or making yourself almost pass out on the treadmill?  Well, it just feels good.  No really, it does.  It feels good.  Moving my legs as fast as they can go (which isn't very fast I should add) and getting my heart beating faster than its normal lazy 50-60% of max is exhilirating.  Once I stopped focusing on the time on my watch and instead started focusing exclusively on the effort, I started noticing how I feel when I try to run fast.  This morning while doing 800 meter repeats at the high school track, and listening to Thom Yorke's "Hearing Damage" (yeah, I bought the Twilite soundtrack, bite me), I could feel my legs, pulsing blood (that's what it does, right?), heart, lungs and brain all move in an incredibly harmoniously orchestrated way.  I don't really notice this when running far slowly.  I enjoy my long slogs because they allow me to space out and are fairly relaxing.  Like a nap on my feet.  Running fast is like screaming only less offensive to the people around you.  Even if you're not mad or upset about anything, sometimes you just need a good scream.  It's cathartic.  It expeditiously washes all negativity from the body.  If you still feel the sting of something after a track workout go do some more 400s as fast as you can...       

Recommended Reading

You really must read THIS blog post written by Alaskan blogger Ti.  I personally found it refreshing and inspiring.

If you'd like to, you can read my first ever contribution to Geargals, HERE, which is basically the opposite of Ti's post and totally frivolous.  But maybe then go back and re-read Ti's post to get you back in the mood of awesome.

Dreaming

If you're like me, you spend an inordinate amount of time engaged in daydreams that are so absurd you feel a little embarrassed for yourself each time you catch yourself legitimately agonizing over whether you just "regular" save the entire town by chance (in some boring cliche manner) or whether you do so covertly to hide the fact that you're a highly trained super secret operative (whatever an operative is).  These are not my daydreams obviously -- just an illustration.  (If you don't spend a lot of time running/hiking/biking and/or on the road in your car or on planes, maybe you don't spend much time in pretend-land, dunno if this is normal). 

Anyhow, at the Banff Mountain Film Festival there was one film that fed one of my consistent daydreams -- being part of some sort of major polar expedition.  These two guys from Australia, who came across as fairly regular guys with tremendous ambition and chutzpah, successfully walked to the South Pole and back, being among the first to do so (a funny Norwegian beat them to it more or less but waited for them near the end so they could all finish together, very touching).  If you can watch the movie, I highly recommend it.

I really really really want to do something like this.  I'm going to.  Not sure what, exactly.  (I've commissioned Jill to come up with something since my daydreams don't typically involve real places or things that relate to reality).  But I'm so excited about the (at least imagined) possibility of making pretend a reality.  Why not.

Sonja's Adventures in Murder

you have seen this already if you're my Facebook friend

I was in Missoula for work and received this photo texted from one of my neighbors.  Just moments earlier I had received a call from a different neighbor letting me know that the dogs had escaped and Sonja killed a chicken.  There were police (three squad cars) there and everything.  Secretly I was glad that I couldn't do anything and poor Ted had to go handle the situation.

After talking to one of the police officers, I learned that the chicken owner declined restitution stating "it's only a chicken" or something like that.  We wanted to do something neighborly and apologetic since it's still a pretty terrible thing to have your chicken (what if it were a pet?) murdered in cold blood in the middle of a work day.

After getting a rough guesstimate of the address, I delivered a card and restaurant gift certificate to the neighbor who seemed to be the appropriate neighbor.  She called that day saying it was sweet but all her chickens were fine, and really they're just chickens.  I then delivered the card to the neighbor who my neighbor who took the incriminating photo thought it was.  Nope.  Wrong neighbor.  She believed it was across the street and that perhaps his chickens were running loose again -- he was in the process of fixing his fence.

Not wanting to repeat this more than a few more times, I knocked on the door.  It was his chicken.  "Happens all the time" he said.  Well, I sincerely doubt that but who knows.  He was rushing out to go hunting and didn't really have time for more than a handshake and brief introduction.  All the other chickens were fine and uninjured he claimed.  Neighbor relations achieved.

Next week we are slated to appear in City Court for having loose dogs.  Our first appearance in front of the new District Court Judge -- Ted's new boss and all.  Never a dull moment with our dogs.  It did occur to me that our neighbors' chorus of "it's only a chicken" might not be heard in other parts of the country.  We're lucky I guess to live where chickens are "just" chickens rather than prized pets.  Or are there such places?  Clearly I was not raised on a farm.  And should not get backyard chickens.

EDITED: Oh yes there are such places.

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/11/13/nyregion/displaced-by-storm-couple-seeks-rental-with-access-to-chicken-coop.html?hp&_r=0

Blah blah blah

Sheikh Yourbooty (on the right) and Kathy on the left (not a great pic of Kathy but didn't take enough pics of Ted's Halloween costume so this is the best of him)

After a whirlwind of adventuring I've been, well, working.  I know, not that exciting.  I am planning on White Mountains 100 in March, if I get in (I am 4th on the waiting list) and plan to throw my name in the hat for Western States, though it's extremely unlikely that I will get in (which is just as well).  Ted and I have a couple legitimate vacations planned.  We're going to Key West for Christmas and Mexico in late March. 

From a training perspective I plan to focus on getting faster between now and February (not really because it will help me at White Mountains but because it feels good and involves shorter workouts).  I think my endurance base is good enough to just ski tour/skin up the mountain again this winter and try to make sure I get a few longer days in.  So really I don't plan to train... (as per usual). 

That is all.  I will have little to report for awhile so until I come up with something interesting to say, which happens never... ok until I take more pretty pictures, see you.

Le Troisième Le Grizz - pourquoi pas?



garden gnomes on the Le Grizz course



For reasons I still don’t completely understand I decided to go ahead and run Le Grizz on Saturday.  This is a 50 mile run along the Hungry Horse Reservoir on rolling road that I completed as my first 50 miler in 2007 and then again ran in 2008.  Although I was already wrecked from the Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim the prior weekend (which I did already wrecked from pacing Jill 48 miles at Bear the weekend before that), I figured I’d see “just how much this thing can blow up!" (to quote Jill who did something similar this weekend).  My initial plan was to crew for Utah visitors Meghan and Bryon -- Meghan is training for her annual MDS adventure and Bryon needed a Western States qualifier -- but since Iris was willing to devote her entire weekend to crewing and making things happen, I figured why not run.  Bryon particularly made it seem like a great idea since he was reportedly untrained, having done nothing but work around the clock like a madman all summer.  Stupidity loves company.  And, rather than get a good night’s sleep and all that, thus increasing the likelihood of a successful day, we enjoyed a pre-race sampling of various Montana beers and whiskey. 



Hungry Horse Reservoir

4:30 a.m. rolled around just as early as it sounds and we headed to the start, which is probably only 10 miles from my house as the crow flies but is a 2 hour drive.  I felt pretty calm about the run since it is incredibly easy to drop out (what with it being on a road and all) and I had no business being there in the first place.  It’s not like I *want* to be injured.  I did, however, want another day of doing nothing but being outside, listening to music and snacking.  It occurred to me that one of the appealing things about ultra running for people like me (who stay within their comfort zone during runs as much as possible rather than pushing to the limits) is that it’s a way to do nothing for many many hours under the guise of doing something.



more views during the race

 Anyhow, despite being pretty tight from my feet through my lower back, I ambled along for close to ten and a half hours and crossed the finish line feeling no worse for the wear. Well, maybe a little but not too bad. Bryon and Meghan both finished somewhere in the mid eight hour range -- Bryon with his flask of whiskey, which reportedly got him through when his legs began protesting. My friend Rebecca finished her first 50 miler as well and seemed pretty cheerful when she crossed the finish line. All in all a success.



Bryon and Meghan at Kintla Lake


The rest of the weekend was incredibly fun but went by too fast. Meghan, Bryon and I went to Polebridge for some pastries and visited Kintla Lake, which I had not yet visited in my nearly six years here. Such a fun weekend.



Meghan has the best smile/laugh

 The gloomy grey sky has settled in here in the Flathead. This time of year it’s entirely possible that the sun won’t make another appearance for a long while, so I’m glad summer ended with a bang and that it’s now time to rest.



Kintla - winter's a comin'



Allison turns 30 in the Grand Canyon - badassery ensues

 My buddy Allison, pictured above, just turned 30 years old this past weekend.  I know, so widdle.  At some point she expressed interest in doing the Grand Canyon rim-to-rim-to-rim as her gift to herself, and naturally I thought it would be a great idea and facilitated this exercise in self-punishment.  Nobutreally the Grand Canyon is a beautiful place but ultimately, in my view, a double crossing is just plain hard. 

 We followed the South Kaibab trail down, which offers exceptional open views, the North Kaibab trail up the other side and the Bright Angel trail back up the south rim.  I like this route and it offers some variety.  My two Garmins recorded different distances and I'm still not clear on total distance but it was somewhere between 45 and 50 miles.  The Grand Canyon is a tricky son-of-a-gun since going down is so easy and pleasant (and fast) but ascending is so slow-going and challenging.  This is particularly true when the temperatures are a little warmer, as they were this past weekend (as compared with Thanksgiving and January, the two times of year I've been there).  This reality (that it's really hard) set in like a baseball bat over the head for Allison as we neared the end of our climb out of canyon on the north rim.

 As we neared the end of our ascent, Allison informed me that "this is the worst thing I've ever done" and "I hate the Grand Canyon."  She told me that she had promised she wouldn't even think it or ask but that she wondered whether there was a shuttle on the north rim that could transport us back to the south rim.  It turned out that there was, but we would have to sleep on the rim and wait until the next morning.  This was not an option as we had nowhere to stay.  So, we sat and I watched as Allison processed the predicament she was in -- namely the reality of having to do the thing she least wanted to do in the whole wide world: descend back into the canyon and double back.  I could completely relate to how she was feeling, so it was a little heartbreaking to witness.  That said, I knew she'd recover and be fine and that she could do it.  She just needed to let her mental game cycle through until she was back from the depths of despair.

 And then, suddenly, she popped up and said "LET'S GO."  Yeah!  After that she didn't complain a peep and kept a solid hiking pace the entire remainder of the day/night.  We watched the sun fade and the light turn "slanty" (to borrow my friend Emily's phrase) until there was no light whatsoever and only a million stars.  Once darkness enveloped our surroundings the scorpions, tarantualas and rattlesnakes came out of their hidey holes which made for some interesting wildlife sightings.

 Carefully avoiding what appears to be an epic attack squirrel problem, we eventually climbed our way out of the south rim.  Despite the long rest on the north rim and essentially hiking the entire thing, we still finished within a few hours of our target finish time but missed the pizza pub and had Combos, chips and beer for dinner before passing out at our hotel.

I think Allison brought in her 30s impressively and showed herself that she is fully capable of doing the seemingly un-doable and digging deep to push on.  There are times we can't imagine anything worse than what lies ahead, yet by taking one step at a time we find ourselves on the other side, a little weary but stronger.

So a Mormon and a half-Jew run through the mountains...

 Jill finished the Bear 100 this past weekend.  There was no doubt in my mind that she would finish and finish strong, but this was something of a test for her.  She timed out last year at Tahoe Rim Trail 100 and while she has only been running for a few years, her immediate ambition was to run 100 miles.  She is just like that.  Her only other "summer" attempt was at TRT, and I think she was left feeling like she had something to prove to herself.  So, this was a pretty big deal but it was obvious to everyone (except for her) that it would be a slam dunk.  This was also the romantic scene of her and her boyfriend Beat's first date, which made it an even more emotionally charged place for her.  I suspect that her lovey-dovey feelings waned as the exhaustion set in.  I didn't ask though.

One reason I knew Jill would be fine is because she comes from a long line of Mormon pioneers and, as we all know, Mormons have endured some pretty substantial hardship (not to mention persecution) throughout their journey.  In fact, Jill is a direct descendant of the founder of Hyrum, Utah, which is in the Cache Valley where Bear 100 is held.  Said founder was one of Bringham Young's right-hand men.  Or something like that.  Perseverance and an ability to endure hardship and suffering is in Jill's blood (though she'd probably want me to note that she's not a practicing LDS peep or even a religious person).  So, it comes as no surprise that she uneventfully made her way 100 miles through the mountains from Logan, UT to Bear Lake, ID.

I paced Jill for 48 miles and it was actually quite enjoyable.  There were multiple moments where I wished I was asleep instead (as a half-Jew my capacity for suffering is less than a Mormon I think, so half the race was about right), but on balance it was a fun and high-quality night/day I wouldn't trade ever for beer and a good night's sleep.  I am incredibly proud of Jill in every way and am glad to have a friend I can point to as far nuttier when people give me a hard time for my strange hobbies.

This weekend Allison and I run in the Grand Canyon and go to Vegas.  After that my training starts for White Mountains 100 in March.  Yee-haw!

Weekend Warrioring



Rhino on top of Six Mile Mountain

 Howdy folks.  I've been enjoying the remainder of summer and have been flitting about as if I live a life of leisure.  Well, some of it (a fair amount of it) has been work travel but I've managed to get in quick visit to Chicago to see my buddies Cheryl and Chris' new baby who is pretty much the cutest little munchkin ever.  I paced my friend Fran at Wasatch 100 (and hung out with Meghan and Bryon in Park City, found some awesome Utah whiskey, just awesome) and will pace Jill at Bear.  Evidently, she hasn't had enough yet this summer.  I have a frenzy of activity coming up, both work (two weeks of depositions out of town - three different towns) and fun (an impending Grand Canyon rim-to-rim followed by Vegas debauchery and I am registered for Le Grizz), which will take me through to mid October at which time I will collapse and try to make use of the shoulder season for regaining some balance.  I've been doing little to nothing during the workweek running-wise or even walking-wise and then hitting it hard on the weekend.  It has been *not* good for my fitness (nor for my physique really).  I am diligently working though and enjoying being busy so I can pretend to be really important.  Only two more weeks of giant veggie boxes through my CSA -- it will be ski season before I know it.  Life is good.


I think Rhino enjoyed the mountain top



My exhausting anti-adrenaline campaign (Mount Reynolds)

If you don't already know, I have a love-hate relationship with heights.  I love them because they're where the mountains are, but I hate them because, well, they're scary.  This fear of heights is part of my ongoing saga with learning to ski and trying really hard to become more proficient at mountaineering.  It is also the thing that keeps me from being able to do all the cool climbs/scrambles/"hikes" off-trail that some of my friends do.  I am actively working on this fear while still recognizing that I basically lack the stomach and skill to do what I can do in my active imagination.  Even without those two things (stomach and skill), there are still attainable climbs in the Park. 

On Sunday my friends Tom (of bear bite fame), Amber and I climbed Mount Reynolds.  Based on my careful study of the bible of climbing in the Park (by J. Gordon Edwards) as well as the newer guide to climbing in the Park (Passmore), I determined that the easiest route up Reynolds was a route I could handle.  Nonetheless I was a tad nervous that it would actually be horrible.  Anticipatory fear is the worst enemy I have in these endeavors.


Danni and Amber near summit (photo by Tom)

Tom is pretty experienced climbing in the Park and thought my planned route might be too tame and suggested a route with significantly more exposure.  I temporarily agreed but nearly started crying out of sheer anticipatory terror.  I heeded my mantra of "be kind to yourself Danni" and insisted we do the "easy" route (Class II(3)). 

Danni, Amber and Tom

The route, once you leave the established trail, is still largely trail.  This is a very popular climb and a "social" trail is well worn nearly the entire way.  Further, there are rock cairns marking the route so it leaves little room for confusion or error.  There were so many people climbing that it would have been difficult to mess up even without the obvious path and cairns.  Don't tell my friend Brad that I didn't knock them all over as he instructed me to do.

photo by Tom

It wasn't easy, despite being easy relative to other climbs in the Park.  I got a tad nervous climbing the "scree slog" -- not rationally but I do not like the feeling of the earth sliding away from me as I try to ascend.  It all comes down to control and it takes some time to realize that you can, actually, control your footing more or less in scree.  It seems a lot like lacking control though and takes some getting used to.  It's not my first time in scree but this was sort of a refresher.

photo by Tom

This hike felt like a bit of a breakthrough since I quickly realized I was totally fine.  When we made it to the summit and I had no moments of terror at all, I was elated.  It is such a liberating feeling to not feel terror on an adventure that could, on the wrong day or with slightly different conditions, send adrenaline pulsing through my veins.  Adrenaline makes me want to vomit.  For real.  I hate it. 

It was smoky, thus it was slightly less than perfect view-wise.  Nonetheless, the views were pretty good.

Amber walks along the ledge

I am pretty darn proud of myself.  Slowly I will conquor my fear and be limited only by a rational evaluation of risk.  I'd rather my brain be in control.  Visceral responses are unsettling.  Again, it comes back to control.  I didn't realize I was such a control freak :-)

Amber and Tom lead the downclimb

It's all worth it to experience these amazing places with amazing friends.