CA Trip and Western States 2013 Crew Report

After two long years (and two months after the race), I'm finally able to write an official post about my experience at the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run, my second go around as a crew member. It's hard to know where to start, except to say that this race has a special place in my heart. It's what inspired me to start running more - particularly on trails, eating better, training smarter, and to start this blog. To thank for this is Olive Oil Joe Uhan, good friend and talented athlete. I've always believed that we all need inspiration from flesh and blood people aka otherwise "normal" people who do great things. I found not only inspiration in Joe's first finish back in 2011, but in the community of amazing people that this race draws. This post recounts my experience, but if you're interested in hearing it straight from the runner, check out Joe's race report here.

**WARNING** This might be my most epic post ever, so grab some snacks and a few beers (or beverage of choice) and settle in for the long haul.

My experience this year was markedly different from 2011 for myriad reasons: a different mix of people, different outcome, and the chance to spend more time with Joe both before and after the race. I flew in to Sacramento a full week before the race and had a wonderfully relaxed build-up to race day, opposed to organized chaos in 2011 marked by a bilateral inguinal hernia that I ruptured on my flight to Sacramento, all of which was endearingly referred to back then as a "clusterf*** of awesomeness." Here's the rundown of my week+ with some of the highlights from this year.

After visiting my good friends in Folsom for a few days, I drove my white Nissan Versa rental up to South Lake Tahoe to stay with Joe and his "other running half" Jacob Rydman in a small rental house they acquired to chill out and acclimate themselves to the altitude. It didn't look like much from the outside, but was plenty comfy for the three of us, and sported some "flat, money singletrak" out back at the end of the road just a few blocks away, where we got in some good easy runs to stay loose. Extended hangout time with nothing on the docket was pretty sweet, as I don't get that much anymore with Joe, and it was cool getting to know Jake, a soft-spoken badass with a bright running future ahead of him. The days were spent chilling out with episodes of Seinfeld, Arrested Development, some old school rap gems, and an original Nintendo complete with Mike Tyson's Punch Out. We also managed to snag some sauna time for heat training at the local gym, and included some drills each day to stay loose. I shouldn't really be using "we" so much here, as they were the ones doing the heat training and staying loose for the race, and I was just lucky to tag along. Other than that, we had a lot of good food, including the largest salad I've ever eaten.

The proper start to any CA trip - In N Out Burger.

Wednesday, June 26th - First Official Run in the Mountains!

The first real highlight of my trip was my long run in the Desolation Wilderness above Emerald Bay on the west side of Lake Tahoe. I needed to get in some good miles to keep with my training for the Moose Mountain Marathon in September, and thanks to Jake's recommendation, I now have another run to add to my list of top runs all time. Starting at Bayview Trailhead (which I passed in the car 3 times like an idiot), I checked out the map and decided to head up and around Upper Velma Lake. It looked like about the right distance to do in about 3 hours, calculating 15 minute miles with all the climbing. Noting the necessary trail junctions and turns in my head, as I didn't have a map to take with me, I set off for a new adventure.

The trail starts by climbing about 800' in the first 3/4 mile up forested switchbacks, giving way to peeks of Lake Tahoe along the way and providing absolutely no warm-up at all. It was a brutal start to try and keep a steady pace, but I was determined and invigorated. Passing Granite Lake along the way, I made a mental note to plan on a swim on the way down if so inclined.

The phenomenal view of Emerald Bay from the switchbacks.

Higher up the trail with a view of Granite Lake.

From the top of the climb, it evened out a little and headed away from the lake further into the wilderness, climbing and descending until leaving the forest and heading down the mountain on the backside, often taking some effort to find the trail. The view of the canyon and the mountains on the far side was spectacular, with the familiar scent of granite, coniferous scrub and mountain dirt rising from the warm summer air. It's a scent I recognize instantly and love unconditionally. It has become the trademark of my summer travels.

After the first two trail junctions and feeling confident that I was on the right track, things got trickier. I finally reached the edge of Upper Velma and hit rushing river, too deep and too swift to cross safely on my own.

With people - no problem. Alone? Not so much.

Thankfully, after poking around a bit, I found a nice makeshift bridge across and was on my way.

Thanks to those who came before me.

The trail was sweet, flat, and fast from here, leading to the base of the mountain, where the forest once again turned to solid granite, making the trail extremely difficult to find. It led to yet another "water hazard," but this time with no discernible crossing. I spent about 10 minutes searching for a way across until a hiker who I had come upon at the previous crossing caught up to me. She and I worked together to find a way across, finally choosing to take off our shoes and "ford the river" at the edge of the lake where the water was much calmer. Everything seemed golden from there, except that we couldn't find the trail. With the way the smaller granite chunks had tumbled down the mountain, everything looked like marked trail. We spent almost a good hour with this whole ordeal, until finally we decided it would be better to just turn back. I was a little disappointed, but this was turning out to be great feet time in any case, and I wanted to get back to running and end the route finding. The way back was good, but I was finally getting low on energy. The sun had been baking me all day, and I needed more than just gels to fuel me. The climb back up the mountain was slow, but my mental state remained positive. Once I hit the final section of switchbacks, I flew down at an almost scary pace, making it to the car at almost exactly 4 hours on trail, only 2.5 of which was actual running. It was at this point when I realized that the decision to turn around was wise, because I had remembered the map wrong and turned off too soon onto a dead-end trail. All that searching for nothing! Here's the map in case you're interested. I just did the red section to Upper Velma and back, totaling about 10.5 miles.

My route - The red line from the east to the south point and back.

Altogether I was thoroughly pleased with my debut performance running in the mountains at altitude. The hiker that joined me in trying to find the way across the river had mentioned that she wanted to turn around because she'd been on trail for 3+ hours and it was getting late. I had made the same distance in an hour, which simply reinforced the reason that mountain running is so awesome. Naturally, running is faster than hiking, but to cover so much distance so quickly in an otherwise desolate place that normally requires a big pack and a ton of gear is just a cool feeling. It also gave me a lot more respect for the ultrarunners who do this for 100 miles!

On to Squaw Valley! 
After lunch Thursday we made our way north to the majestic start of it all - idyllic Squaw Valley, home of the 1960 Olympics. The drive up the west side of Lake Tahoe was gorgeous, and for the first time I was actually able to see the lake at water level. Now I know exactly what the bumper stickers "Keep Tahoe Blue" really mean. Turning away from the lake, Squaw Valley appeared in no time, and the excitement mounted.

Trivia of the Day - Walt Disney was the MC for the Olympic games here, and after seeing the unique rock formations on the mountain, he sent surveyors on horseback to sketch it all out, later using it as the basis for Thunder Mountain at Disneyland.

In 2011 I was gung-ho to participate in all of the clinics and festivities to take it all in. Unfortunately, I arrived after the crew meeting had started, but Joe assured me that I was now old hat and didn't need to go. It's always fun to get a taste of "Tropical John" Medinger up close, but there were other things to take care of. I found Jake in the parking lot and we went in to check out the free lodging that Jake's pacer Connor had connected us with through team Salomon. Apparently, Connor had been given a suite to himself by Salomon and had tons of room for us, thereby allowing us to cancel the rooms in Truckee and stay closer for free. As soon as we walked in, I felt immediately uneasy. There were people everywhere, including Salomon's best ultrarunners. I felt eyes all over me and could almost hear "Who the **** are you?" from behind them. I told Jake I was gonna head out and connect with Adam, one of Joe's pacers who had just arrived, and left quickly. Not my idea of tons of space, and even if it was free, I was definitely uncomfortable staying there. Thankfully, Connor said that there was another suite that he was switching to, that definitely had more space. Adam and I went to find it - suite 405 - and for some reason, 405 was the only number not on the fourth floor of this building! It was odd, but as we were looking up and down the hall, Jake called and said he had run into some of the Injinji guys (his sponsor), and they invited us to stay with them at their rental house just a little ways down the road, guaranteeing us plenty of open beds and a cozy space to hang out. I was in. We drove out there and it was incredible! A beautiful house with ample space and plenty of beds for us all. It was here at the table where Joe and Jake tackled their final gear needs, namely the creation of some sexy sleeveless cutoff tees ala Scott Jurek, mutilating their Lake Sonoma 50 race shirts for a good cause. Jake was rather liberal with his, cutting it off to just below the nipples, which I think is illegal in some states, but he does have the abs for it.

Like a 60's James Bond film.

A great place to crash, especially for watching Runaway Train to get psyched.

Back to Squaw for the veterans panel discussion. There was a great deal of confusion as to where this was happening, and no one really seemed to know. I was told by several people that it was in the conference room of the Squaw Valley Lodge, where it had been in previous years, but when I arrived there, a couple of guys were just hanging out chatting, and there was no evidence of a panel discussion happening. Joining a crew of others who were also looking for it, including the likes of 2012 Montrail Ultra Cup winner Denise Bourassa, we finally figured out that it was a short hike over to the Olympic Valley Lodge conference room, a much bigger space than the previously-used one, and for good reason. This year's panel was jam packed with veteran goodness: Ellie Greenwood (winner from previous two years and women's course record holder), Tim Twietmeyer (25-time finisher and 5-time winner), Ann Trason (14-time winner), and Gordy Ainsleigh (the guy who started it all in 1974). It was truly an historical event to witness, and if you're interested, you can watch it here.

Although I had missed the feeling of community at the clinics during the day, I got my fill hanging out with the OOJ posse over dinner and gear sorting at the suite where Joe's mom Meredith was staying. An exceptional group of people to be sure, and it was a good way for us all to get to know each other better. The evening wrapped up with a quality showing of Runaway Train (spoiler link) back at the Injinji house, a film that for some reason caught Joe's interest in a big way. Who doesn't like Jon Voight?

Friday, June 28th - First Mountain Race Ever!

Coming off of my mountain run high from Wednesday, I was totally stoked to take part in the Montrail 6k Uphill Challenge, a new tradition the day before the race, where pacers, crew, and anyone else can register for free to race up the mountain to High Camp. It's a way to experience the start of the race, and a great excuse for climbing the mountain instead of taking the gondola. It was HOT already at 10am, above 80 degrees. My ten minute warm-up was enough to drench me in sweat, so I was somewhat concerned about my ginger complexion on the open mountain. I met up with the illustrious Samuel Jurek and we jawed a bit pre-race until the proverbial gun went off. I took off conservatively and worked my way up, running as much as possible with small steps. It was an excellent challenge, and a ton of fun, until we came to a new section that was covered with mulch! Due to construction next to the standard start area, a new start was used which added 200m or so, thereby taking off 200m up the mountain by adding a short steep climb up a nasty section of mulch instead of winding up on the jeep road. Ugh! By this point, however, I was managing to pass people and not be passed by anyone else. I even managed to sprint the last climb up to the finish with a time of 42:43. Sam's GPS watch had clocked in 2.8 miles instead of a full 6km, but either way, I was happy with my performance. I got my free Mountain Hardware water bottle and Gu Brew at the top and took in the view for a while before heading down on the gondola. 

Racers on the final climb.

Sam and I at High Camp. Photo Samuel Jurek

Getting cleaned up and fed left me just enough time to get to the official pre-race meeting, also in a new location this year and primarily in the brain-baking sun! The highlight was seeing Joe up with the rest of the top 10 from last year, placed amongst a group of elites that he has worked so hard to be a part of.

Photo Jacques Dehnbostel

The pre-race meeting led into the team OOJ pre-race meeting back at Meredith's suite. Joe was incredibly relaxed, drinking Hefeweizen from a Pyrex measuring cup, explaining to us that he's learned a lot in the past two years, was ready, and was going for the win. Words were unnecessary to see how much love Joe has for this race, but he expressed himself quite elegantly with the sentiment that this race has become another family to him, and the course almost like a love interest that one must properly and thoughtfully prove himself (or herself) to. The energy in the room was electric, and I was amped. Joe said many times that waiting around for the race to begin was excruciating; he just wanted to get on with it, not in a nervous way, but in a way that most people can't wait for vacation to start.

All beer should be drunk from its appropriate glassware.

After dinner, Sam and I had talked about a viewing of Unbreakable, the 2011 WS documentary. I thought Joe had his copy with him that I could borrow, but alas, the copy I saw in Tahoe was Jake's. I went out to the WS store area to see if the tent for the film was still there, but everything was cleaned up and all the tents were gone. I spotted the Journey Films van and a couple people still packing up, so I approached them and asked if they had any copies left and voila! I had just enough cash on me to score a copy. Sam, James (fellow OOJ crew member and friend), and I met up at the gelato shop in the Village, grabbed a delicious treat, and joined Sam's runner David at his room for movie night. Thankfully, the film finished about 15 minutes before my planned bedtime, so James and I scurried back to the Injinji house to hit the hay and hopefully get some sleep before the 3:30am wake-up call. Upon entering my bunk room, who did I see standing before me but Dave Mackey, the "gentle giant" and elite ultrarunner. I was a bit surprised to see him there, but apparently he had just arrived at Squaw and was bunking with us for the night. I had the honor of having a "tooth party" with him, as my wife calls it, and as we were brushing our teeth next to each other, I mentioned that I had just seen him on the big screen, appearing in the documentary because he was Geoff Roes' pacer. With toothbrush still in mouth he muttered, "Oh, I haven't even seen that yet. That's when I got dropped." Good conversation, albeit short. It was only after this that the other guys informed me that Dave had taken the mattress off the top bunk and was apparently sleeping in the closet down the hall. Everyone has their own pre-race routine I guess.

Race Day - Highs and Lows (Not just heat and blood sugar, respectively)

My watch alarm was not as annoying as I thought it might be when it started beeping at 3:30am. The velvety richness of the early morning darkness, speckled with crackling white stars, whisked in crisp mountain air from the open window, awakening my senses and invigorating me for the day. I was up immediately and getting my act together. Having put all my ducks in a row the night before, I was up and out rather quickly, with plenty of time before the start, although not quick enough to take Joe to the start. I stopped in at Meredith's to see what was happening, and things were bustling there already. Joe and Jake were suited up and having their morning coffee, seeming relaxed but ready.

BGD, sans D, enjoying some early morning race fuel.

I walked to the starting area to catch the scene. Despite the throng of people and all the activity, it seemed exceptionally calm to me. Joe and Jake were off warming up, so I just chilled and took it all in. I love the start of this race, maybe because of the darkness, with only the warm glow of the ski hill lights, or just because it seems like a community of people all getting ready for a trip together. With about five minutes to go, everyone started lining up, and the elites took their position toeing the line, literally.

Joe with some last minute "stretchies" with a great view of Jake's fashion creation at left.

Just before the gun went off (yes, a shotgun is actually fired to start the race), Gordy Ainsleigh climbed the announcers ladder next to the start arch and offered this bit of advice via Winston Churchill during WWII: "When you're going through hell, keep going!"

Boom! Like a giant, wriggling caterpillar, the runners took off around the corner and up the hill en masse, and I got the impression that this year they were out a lot faster than in 2011, especially young stud Cameron Clayton, who - it seemed - thought he was only running to the Escarpment AS at the top of the mountain. That boy was practically sprinting!

I helped myself to a few bags of ice from Squaw Valley Lodge and James and I took off for Duncan Canyon AS, making a pit stop at the Safeway in Truckee for snacks and then in Auburn to downsize to one car. It was rather ridiculous, but because all of the crew members and pacers arrived at different times, we each had our own rental car. All in all, we probably should have stolen Adam's rental, a Dodge Charger. It would have been much more fun on the road to Duncan and Dusty.

The drive to Duncan Canyon via Mosquito Ridge Road is a true adventure: narrow, barely paved, and precariously winding along the mountainside. We were in a little bit of a hurry to make dead sure we made it on time to meet Joe, who we were expecting to be at the front of the pack. The drive was exciting and beautiful, with the sun inching up over the mountains. Upon pulling in to the AS, we found a Nissan Versa-sized parking spot and grabbed the necessary gear. The woman at the bottom of the trail who was in charge of parking patrol put us on edge with a comment that the first runners may have already come by! Being a slight bit fitter than James, I took the most important gear and hauled ass up the steep trail to make sure. Once I arrived, everyone was standing around looking almost bored. No runners had come by yet and it was going to be a while. Whew! The aid station was a fun place. Just above the actual station a makeshift stage had been set up, and there was a small bluegrass band playing tunes for people. They even had a microphone and speaker setup (running on a generator?) which they used to announce the incoming runners, cutely performed by a young girl. The AS itself was totally stocked! The turkey and spinach sandwiches looked especially tempting, even at 7:30 in the morning, but considering that my breakfast was at 4am, it was almost lunch time! A woman next to me struck up a conversation after noticing my crew shirt, mentioning that she knew Joe. It turned out to be ultrarunner Paul Terranova's wife Meredith. Paul went on to finish 8th with a stout performance.

Finally, we could hear commotion up the trail and the runners started appearing from the woods, bobbing down the hill into the aid station. Some looked rather frantic, some were relaxed, and a few seemed rather clueless as to which way they were supposed to go, which was especially strange because they were the old hat veterans of this race! Joe came down in about 12th place and we jumped out from behind the barrier tape to attend to him. He ignored us at first as he sought a scissors and some lube to deal with the seam piping under the arm of his shirt that he had neglected to cut off with the rest of the sleeve and was suffering from chafing because of it. After following him around and me saying "Joe, we're right here...Joe, right behind you...," he finally stopped and we got things moving. He tossed his heart rate monitor on the ground and said something to the effect of: "My heart rate has been at 170 the whole time, so this thing is useless." We gave him a fresh bottle and his ice bandanna, which James had overfilled "slightly," causing Joe to turn back as he was leaving and with a smug grin said, "maybe a little bit too much ice," dumping half of it out and tying it around his neck, all without breaking pace. James and I agreed that he looked awesome and hung out for a bit longer to see Jake come in and take in the front-of-the-pack excitement. 

Photo shoot at Duncan Canyon to show off the spanky crew shirts.

On to Dusty Corners! We had made a mental mark on the drive out as to where the turn to Dusty would be. Turning onto the road, I paused to take a look at the sign and make sure, not realizing that there was a car right behind me. The guy put his hand out the window and waved me forward to assure me that we were on the right road. Narrow road became narrower and then turned to dry gravel, kicking up a plume of dust behind us. After a while, I noticed that the white car that was so impatiently following us was gone. Had I made a wrong turn? I stopped to see if he would soon reappear, which he did, only for me to realize that he had dropped back to avoid my dust cloud, and here I had put him right back in it like a total d-bag. Sorry! A few minutes later we were at Dusty Corners though, so it wasn't all bad. At this point I realized that the white car was Paul Terranova's crew, including his wife whom I had just talked with at Duncan. 

We were quite early, so we grabbed some snacks and found some empty chairs under the crew tent, which was so nicely placed there by Doug the AS chief. It was a posh setup for crew, and I was certainly thankful for the shade. The pacer/crew duo for Meghan "The Queen" Arbogast joined us in no time, and we had a relaxing time with snacks and water to cool us off. The temp was already getting quite steamy by this point. 

Once we heard that runners were approaching, we got up and crossed over to the side where most people had gathered to meet their runners. James headed up the hill to meet Joe early and get the skinny on what he might want or need. At this point, there had been a decent change-up of leaders, with Hal Koerner coming down first and Timmy Olson in a close second, moving up at least 4 spots if I remember correctly. Cam Clayton, who had took off in a blaze of glory at the start, came down in around 6th place, looking like death warmed over, complaining about something "popping" in his ankle and proclaiming that was going to drop, but try to continue a little further. In fine style, Jorge Maravilla came sailing down the hill, arms out airplane-style, weaving back and forth down the trail, high-fiving people as he passed. After all, it's all about looking good. So far, most of the runners did look good. As the time approached for Joe to arrive, Meredith Terranova came to me and asked me if we had anything to douse Joe with. I only had his dousing bottle for him to take with him, so she disappeared briefly and came back with an extra bottle that she had borrowed from someone so that we could douse Joe on the spot. That's one thoughtful gal! About the time she showed up with the bottle, Joe was coming down the hill, waving. Well, I thought he was waving, but once I looked at the photo I shot, it was clear that he was giving James directions as he passed, pertaining to his ice bandanna.

He had moved up several spots by this point, and looked awesome! He was in great spirits, and it was a total whirlwind as always, here and then gone. James and I were once again filled with excitement after this second contact with our guy, like a well-woven suspense story unfolding in front of you. The one quote that stuck with me when we were attending to him; "It's amazing what you can do when you keep your heart rate down!" It seemed that his initial plan was bearing fruit, so to speak.

Back to Foresthill. James and I braved the crazy mountain roads once more, damn near run off the gravel road by oncoming vehicles blazing at light speed to get to Dusty. We made it safely, however, and things at Foresthill were already picking up. Thankfully there was just enough space for us to park at the "Team OOJ tailgate party" and go grab lunch at Subway. Air conditioning never felt so good! Back at tailgate central, we chilled on a tarp and relaxed in the shade, and I remember thinking that it felt like a long time before any runners came through at all. People-watching also made for good entertainment, especially the eccentric local lady who kept coming up to pacers and crew and telling them that the runners are true American heroes, sometimes snapping pictures of whomever would let her. She also did her civic duty to prohibit people from parking next to the fire hydrant on the corner where she was posted. Just another thing that makes this race so awesome. I made my way up to the AS to check things out, and while visiting the restroom, I ran into a fellow Minnesotan who I had seen after the Uphill Challenge and at the start area. Small world. Eventually, however, runners started trickling in, with Timmy Olson now in the lead.

I feel like the runners were much closer together in 2011, because there were HUGE spans of time before runners came through at Foresthill this year, and reports from previous aid stations didn't seem to be updating regularly enough. Thankfully, there's still plenty of race left once you hit Foresthill, so I wasn't worried.

With at least five different people in our entourage checking every possible online resource, we eventually learned that Joe had checked in at Michigan Bluff and was taking a break to get his legs massaged there, after a long bout of cramping. In fact, iRunfar had posted a pic of him getting worked on, and his face was positive and seemingly relaxed, so it was quite a shock just a few minutes later when Brandie, Joe's sister, got a phone call and blurted out to us rather abruptly, "Joe dropped." Bewildering to be sure, as everything seemed to be going perfectly. After another phone call a few minutes later, we were reassured that Joe had dropped due to his cramping, and was getting a ride back to Foresthill from Connor (Jake's pacer), once he saw Jake come through.

It was a situation that everyone has experienced at least once, where the entire group of people around you goes silent and looks at the ground, as if the wind has sucked all the words out of each and every person's mouth. Then, after a short bout of silence, commentary starts to emerge to act as reassurance that everything is ok. Naturally, it's hard to handle a blow like that, especially because it just didn't make sense at the time, but surely there was a reason for it. This is a fact of ultrarunning - people drop for all sorts of reasons at every possible time, even when everything seems to be going well.

Joe finally showed up in Connor's black beast of a truck, stepping out slowly and stiffly, saying something to the effect of; "This isn't how I intended to roll in to Foresthill." Giving his mom a big hug, there was an apology for letting us all down and a few tears shed by several people. Not only was the DNF hard for him from a personal performance standpoint, but clearly he felt the added guilt of us coming all that way to support him and see him race, only for him to drop at mile 55. That sentiment, of course, was the last thing on all of our minds, and I for one was just happy to be there to help a friend and to experience Western States again. As Joe opened up a bit more, we learned that he had been cramping for the previous 20 miles before Michigan Bluff, and could barely walk, let alone run, once he left the AS. He made it about a mile out of the AS, turned back, tried one more time, and then turned back for good, doing the "walk of shame" back to Michigan Bluff to have his yellow wristband cut and officially drop. The fact that he ran 20 miles with severe quad cramps is badass enough that finishing the race seemed inconsequential to me. Most people would have quit after one mile of that nonsense.

A seemingly appropriate sign for the circumstances.

Now came the point of deciding what to do. Where do we go now? The first thing was to wait for Jake to come by, because although we weren't officially crewing for him, he was definitely still "our" runner, and when he came by, he looked decent - not happy, but decent. There was still hope for a quality finish for him, and so we cheered him on and wished him good luck when he passed.

The group split into different factions, some going back to the pool house in Auburn to swim and relax, Adam and James to head further down course to see what they could see, and I hung out with Joe for a bit in Foresthill, just taking it all in. I was happy to be his chauffeur and take him wherever he wanted to go. It was some good quality time, just he and I, and I think it was easier for him to reflect and voice certain concerns in a one-on-one setting, regardless of if it was with me or someone else. I gave him the other half of my Subway sandwich and after a while decided to head back to the motel to regroup a bit. It took a while for Joe to decide what he wanted to do. He was torn between going back to the pool house to relax and get away from everything, or to go to the finish as he knew he should, to see the top runners come in. I was thankful that he decided the latter.

We all met up at the Placer High School track and watched Timmy Olson win his second Western States in a row, only 30 minutes off of his course record from last year! To understand the gravity of this, one must consider the conditions. In 2012 the weather was very cool and rainy, making the typically smoldering, brain-baking canyons much easier to deal with and the race faster in general. He completed the race in 14:46, which is completely mind-blowing in and of itself. This year's weather was the complete opposite, with near-record heat and the canyons reaching 112 degrees or more! In years with extreme heat, the history shows that finishing times are at least 2-3 hours slower. Timmy Olson added only 31 minutes to his time. Beastmachine indeed.

Proceeding the finish, Timmy was interviewed at the finish line, only to be interrupted by Rob Krar, blazing around the track to finish second, having made up a huge amount of time in the last miles, but not quite enough to catch Tim. One interview turned into a double interview, adding an almost eloquent final touch to a roller coaster of a day. At the conclusion of the interviews, the goal was to get a feel for what Jake was doing, because we had heard he was also slowing down and having problems near the river. It didn't look too good, but he was still moving. In any case, it was clear that Jake wouldn't hit the finish line until well into the late night/early morning. Joe departed to get cleaned up after we decided that it was time for dinner at In N Out Burger! I was stoked...but only for a brief while until the decision was made to go to Auburn Ale House instead. This was not a step down by any means, but I had been craving a double protein animal style. Regardless, a few brews and some delicious food with Joe, James, and Adam proved to be a memorable and relaxing meal.

At this point, I wasn't ready for my WS race day to be done. I had prepared myself mentally to be out on the course at least until around 10pm, and for some reason, I felt I needed to experience just a bit more. James, Adam, and I decided to head back to the track and watch a few more runners finish. Even after a leisurely dinner in town, we made it back to see the seventh place runner finish! We stuck around long enough to see Karl Meltzer finish in 11th place (10th male), who finished over 3.5 hours after Timmy. This is what I mean when talking about how stretched out the race was. I had considered heading back out on the course to catch Jake, but the live splits from the various online updates were showing that he had been stuck at one of the aid stations near Cal St. for nearly three hours, so it didn't seem worth it, mainly because it was unclear when he would get to the next station with crew access, if at all.

By the end of the day, I felt a little lost. The plan for the day had been disrupted so much that I wasn't sure what time it was, where I should be, or what I should be doing. There was a feeling that I had missed something, and I'm sure the lack of celebrating Joe's finish was a big part of that, but regardless, it was another kickass adventure.

Post-race: The Aftermath

Sunday morning brought us to the awards ceremony back at the Placer track. Just as Joe decided to see the first finishers the night before, he wanted to be there for awards, as painful as it might be. Once I connected with Joe, I found out that Jake did indeed drop at mile 80, forcing him to wait at the aid station for four hours in the wee hours of the morning until it closed so that he could get a ride out of there. That's the downside to dropping at a more remote aid station. Not that it was terribly shocking news, but it was a bit of a bummer. I found a spot under the tent in the stagnant, steam bath air and finished up my Subway sub from the previous day as breakfast. It was quite miserable with the extreme heat, but worse out in the sun. Thankfully, race volunteers started poking through the crowd handing out ice cream bars and popsicles, improving the general disposition of all. Sam Jurek and his runner David made their way over to me, David looking a bit catatonic after his 26 hour finish. Sam, on the other hand, was cheerful as always, albeit tired as well. Meanwhile, Joe was in long sleeves under the open California sky, catching up with the other elite runners, which seemed both tough and cathartic for him. It was also quite inspiring to see the final finishers come in under the 30-hour cutoff, receiving huge applause and several standing ovations as they rounded the track just before 11am. Far tougher is it to be out on the course for two sunrises than to finish in record time, as has been noted by many before. Those are the true badasses of Western States. Some of them finished the race and came straight over to the tent for awards, plopping down on the grass, many of whom fell directly asleep. That's dedication. The awards started with the usual affair: Montrail Ultra Cup winners, top 10 men and women, 1000+ mile buckles, and the "geriatric award," given to the oldest male and female finishers. After seeing most of the silver buckles handed out, we jumped ship and headed back to the pool house to relax and cool off.

The rest of the day and the following couple days brought quality vacation time at the pool house in Auburn where Joe and his family stayed. We grilled out, drank plenty of beer, enjoyed the pool, and reveled in what brought me to love ultrarunning so much - the community it creates. The 2013 WS signature beer that Joe's brother-in-law Nate brewed for the occasion was also passed around - the M9 Beatdown Porter. Of course, we all were hoping for the beatdown to be given and received by different parties, but it was nonetheless appropriate I suppose. It was also one of the tastiest porters I've ever had. Props to Nate! Joe also gave a post-race speech with poise and reflection, thanking us once again for supporting him in this unpredictable endeavor of his.

Post-race speech. Photo Meredith Stevens

As I wrap up this immense beast of a post, I want to thank Joe for another opportunity to take part in this incredible event that I have grown to love so much, and to thank his family for taking me in over the years. Their kindness and familiarity has meant a great deal to me, and such inclusion makes this event even more memorable and meaningful. I do hope I have more chances to do it again!

You've made it! You made it to the end of this post, almost as long as the race itself. Congratulations, you officially have the gameness it takes to run ultras. If you're not a runner, consider starting.

Until next time, cheers!

A Conversation With Myself

Upon reading Andy Jones-Wilkins post last Friday on iRunfar detailing the ever-present battle between the head and the heart when it comes to running, it made me more cognizant of the conversation between my head and heart lately. I thought I'd provide some of the transcript here to support his post.

Back story - Right around Earth Day I messed up my left foot and it's still giving me trouble. Strangely it's the same injury I experienced at the exact time last year, so I've treated it the same. I've run very little, and just when I thought it was good about two weeks out, I ran on it and relapsed, thus the following conversation (and yes, the dialogue in my head is oftentimes this cheesy):

Head: So smart guy, ya just had to run the trails in Ely this weekend, didn't you, and now you're paying for it...again.

Heart: I needed to run to keep my sanity, and besides, the dog needed exercise as well.

Head: So now you're back where you started, limping and unable to run, and there's only two weeks until your first 50km. The farthest you've run in your training has been 14.5 miles on the road, and the longest run you've done has only been 2 hours and 15 minutes, compared to at least 6 hours that you'll spend on trail at the race, and on top of all that, in minimalist shoes! What's the plan, big guy?

Heart: The race is an adventure, with more of a focus on joy and exploration than anything else. If I have to hike a good chunk of it, so be it! I'll have a lovely day on the trail amongst cool people, doing something that will bring me a great sense of accomplishment. Nothin better than that!

Head: We're talkin 30 miles! That's more than a "lovely day on the trail." And if you injure yourself more, maybe a full-on stress fracture, or a fall because you're mechanics will be compromised, what then?

Heart: Ever the pessimist. My fitness is still solid, and there's nothing saying that I can't bike or work out to maintain what I have. I'll stay off my foot, and a good two weeks should be plenty to let it heal. Should I have trouble in the race, I'll either turn around at the first AS and do the 25km, or DNF. I could use a total failure to learn a lesson, but it will at least be a positive one.

Head: What if the lesson is that you completely screw your training for the 50-miler next fall, your ultimate goal of over two years! Will that be worth it?

Heart: I think perhaps you're underestimating my grit...and also my intelligence.

Head: Intelligence? That's what I'm here for! You're pure id, plain and simple, and in any case, grit and stubbornness aren't enough for 50km with so many factors stacked against you as they are at the moment. You're just asking for trouble.

Heart: Just keep running...just keep running...

Head: Well the plan has been shot to hell: no long day training adventures on trail as planned, a complete shortfall of distance training, not to mention the longest winter EVER! There's no trustworthy plan from here on out.

Heart: You're just not thinking outside the box, Mr. Curmudgeon. My plan is to explore the unknown, have an adventure, find joy and have fun on the trail, and learn something from it. I love it when a plan comes together! And besides, there is one guarantee.

Head: Yeah? What's that?

Heart: Post-race beer, a decadent meal, and a hot tub with good friends to celebrate another adventure!

Head: I do like beer.

Heart: Cheers!

The Measure of a Long Run: Time vs. Distance

Holy cow! It's been more than two months since my last post. I certainly didn't intend for that to happen, but life has not only been busy, but the weather and training have also not been cooperating, and I suppose I haven't been feeling all that excited about discussing it. With the first real taste of spring today in all of its 60-degree glory, however, it seems that the much needed vitamin D has inspired me.

For any of you who have read this blog before, you'll know that I typically write lengthy posts, and I'm sure it's part of the reason why I don't write as often as I'd like (do endurance atheletes and/or perfectionists ever do something part way?), but I'm giving myself permission to toss out some "quickies" from now on to keep things rolling...so here goes.

In training for the Superior Trail Races 50k on May 18th, I've done my best to run almost exclusively on trails and put in some longer runs, but the late season snow has been a complete hassle to say the least, and when running in conditions that feel like mashed potatoes, it's very difficult to go the required distance, as every mile feels like three. Thus, I've been doing timed runs instead of distance runs, which is something new to me.

I can certainly see the advantages to doing both runs for distance and those for a particular length of time, but I discovered that I have a dislike for timed runs, for several reasons:

1. Because I have no GPS device and am running on trails that are not mapped well for distance, I have no idea how far I've gone.
2. Due to #1, I also have no idea what my pace is, and can only guess.
3. Because of 1 and 2, I don't feel I have an accurate gauge on the success of my run, because I don't know my pace and therefore will have trouble setting a reasonable goal for the race. Since Superior is my first ever ultra - the longest race prior to this being 25k - I'm feeling a bit obsessive about knowing and planning my race as best as possible.

Distance runs, therefore, are more usable to me, as I can do the same run more than once and judge my improvement and/or fitness gains by the time, or at least can compare it to future runs of a longer distance to see if my pace has remained steady or improved. Being as competitive as I am, I am not satisfied with knowing that I just ran 2.5 hours if I have no idea how far/fast I've gone. Then again, I suppose not knowing how far I ran on the complete sufferfest of a run I had last Sunday makes it at least a little better in that I can plead ignorance, because it felt like I was doing 15-minute miles. Who knows if that's true, but on the other hand, if I did know how far I went, I would have probably realized that I was running much faster than how I felt (I hope - it's usually the case), so once again I'm back to disliking timed runs. The Fonz agrees.

Now the question is whether or not I should just bite the bullet and get a GPS watch or a smart phone. Any suggestions?

One Year Review

Welcome to In Search of Badass, toddler style! It's hard to believe that one year has passed since I started this blog, and the last 12 months have been awesome, not without ups and downs, but nonetheless full of adventure, fun, and contemplation.

As January rolled in and the new year started, it was hard not to notice the myriad year-in-reviews and top (insert number here) lists scattering the interwebs. It's always fun to look back and sum up our time on this planet by highlighting the key events, and although it might be a cliché thing to do, I always enjoy it. My life is always so full that I tend to forget a lot, and being reminded of what happened in the previous year helps me gain a better perspective on time and how quickly or slowly it passes. As I mentioned in my last post, I'm also a list person, thus concise chronological lists fit my ordered, logical brain. In any case, I thought I'd take a moment to recap the last twelve months of my own life since I started this blog, and evaluate my progress toward the reason this blog exists in the first place - being awesome at life and a total badass. Should you need a refresher on the definition I'm using for said evaluation, check out one of my early posts here.

2012
February 
After my return to coaching Nordic skiing from a two-year break, I had the chance to up my volume of running, seeing as we had a freakishly warm winter, with not a single ski meet on real snow. It gave me the chance to run a ton, experimenting with my new Merrel Trail Gloves. I was already in race fever, having signed up for both the Earth Day Half Marathon in St. Cloud and the Superior Trail Races 25km in late May, and it was only February!

The running was shaping up nicely, and I was enjoying the long runs on the weekends. One of the small joys was discovering one of these on a Saturday long run adventure in new territory.

March
If I could choose just one word to represent this month, it would be motivation. I was blogging pretty much once a week, my brain was entertaining and analyzing a million ideas, and I was experimenting with my running a ton (hydration options, nutrition, form), not to metion getting psyched for the half marathon. I had my first ever truly barefoot run, and although it was short, it was thoroughly uplifting (but COLD!). This month also brought what will probably remain as one of my worst runs ever, followed by one of the best. I've actually been itching to do a repeat of that 12-miler to my parents' house sometime soon, but for now, I'll need to wait until the ice melts along the sidewalks.

April
April was a big month. Although my one-post-a-week goal for this blog fell completely off the wagon, it did so for a reason. I was just way too busy! Training took the front seat, along with a few other things.

The month started with my spring break, for which I headed up north to Ely where my wife was doing an externship rotation for vet school at the clinic there. I spent my days between writing curriculum at the quaint little coffee shop on Main St. and running the trails at the Ely Nordic Center, an awesome collection of wooded trails, complete with dilapidated ski jump. I had a monster hill workout up and down that one! We also acquired the newest member to our family, an Alaskan husky from bloodlines of two champion mushing kennels. Skijoring harness and harness for Dart were purchased the very next day.

Poison Dart Frog aka Dart

Earth Day Half Marathon, St. Cloud, MN. The time had finally arrived. Anna and I headed north to St. Cloud for the race, only to be greeted by 40 degrees and rain on race morning. Despite the apparent crappy weather, I had a blast, and was overjoyed that I was able to complete what was at that point the longest running race of my life, and more importantly that I was able to do it in my Five Fingers. Huge triumph! I also managed to surpass my goal of 8min/mi pace, coming in at 1:39:00, a 7:34 pace. Unfortunately, cramming my feet into my narrow tennis shoes afterward for the long drive home seriously exacerbated the stress on the feet, and I ended up with a nagging foot injury for the next several weeks.

To round out the month, the Monday after the race brought a visit from new friend Mountain and his girlfriend Cherry as they circumnavigated the US on an epic road trip. Mountain is the guy behind the Primal Professional barefoot dress shoe, and it was cool to finally meet him in person and talk shoes, training, Paleo living, and more. I also had the pleasure of showing them the wonders of the Midwest a little bit.

Monkeying around at Midwest Mountaineering's bouldering cave.

Off the beaten path at Minnehaha Falls.

May
Post-Earth Day Half, my foot was utterly messed up and I couldn't run. Diagnosis from the doc was inconclusive and the treatment was simply to avoid running for 4-6 weeks. With the Superior Trail Race 25km only three weeks away, I took two weeks off and started running again on the third. Thanks to advice from Dr. OOJ DPT, I decided to experiment with the notion that sometimes you NEED to run to work out the pain, and it worked beautifully.

Superior Trail Races 25km. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect trail race experience! Enjoying the company of my wife and fellow troublemaker Sam Jurek, we had a blast heading up to Caribou Highlands resort for the weekend, and the race itself was almost magical. I didn't quite reach my goal time for the race, but considering that it was my first trail race on truly rugged terrain, I'm happy with my performance and am even more stoked about the 50km this year!

Black Hills Climbing Trip. Back for the 13th annual climbing trip, the gang and I set out once again for a weekend of climbing, community, and camping in the Black Hills, a tradition that is near and dear to my heart, and one that I will not compromise on. It's the one time of year that I can count on seeing my best friend Rob and gather our little climbing community together for some quality time. The weather wasn't altogether agreeable, but we did get some sweet climbs in, including two on my bucket list: the Conn Route near Sylvan Lake, and Waves in the Rushmore area, the latter on which I led the second pitch with not enough quickdraws. Oops!

A helluva start to the weekend. Is there a lake near here?

The view from atop the Conn Route. Don't let the sunshine fool you, it was windy and COLD!

Repelling off of Waves.

June/July
Summer started off very well. Anna and I took her brother and his family, including their 5-year-old to Interstate State Park in WI for some climbing. It was a blast hooking the little guy up on the approach climb and letting him go. Hopefully he'll maintain the desire to climb!

In my mind, he needed some extra challenge, so I added it ex post facto.

I also did some solid running again, quite a bit of it totally barefoot, although the pavement was getting hotter by the day, and I did burn my feet a few times. I also made my own huarache sandals from shoe remnants I had lying around, which I meant to blog about, but never got to it. Perhaps in the future yet. Stay tuned.

Ze Vaterland. After school got out, I headed once again to Rottweil, Germany with my students on the exchange my colleague and I started in 2005. It was a total blast as always, mainly due to my awesome German counterpart who is constantly on the go and providing adventures for me. The adventure highlight was definitely climbing for the first time in Germany on real rock! A friend of my colleague and his son are avid climbers, so they took me up into the Schwabische Alb for an afternoon.

Max leading the first route.

The route I led - a slanty, slippery 5.9+ with few bolts.

The one big negative of the trip was due to a poor decision I made to play some pick-up soccer with my colleague and his friends. The game was fun, and I even scored two goals, but deciding to play in my Trail Gloves was a bad idea. They were too flimsy for all the sharp lateral movement changes, and one of the guys - a German-sized man - stepped right on my foot with his cleats, which put me out of running for the rest of the summer, and quashed my plans to run the Superior Trail Races Marathon in Sept. Lesson learned.

Wyoming Trip. Two days after arriving home from Germany, Anna and I left on a road trip out west for my dear friend Jen's wedding at an outdoor chapel in the mountains, which was altogether breathtaking and inspiring. On the way, we stopped in to Custer State Park in the Black Hills to camp and enjoy one of my favorite places on earth. We didn't get much time to climb, but we did manage to get on the spelunking tour at Jewel Cave National Monument, the second largest cave in the world. The tour is four hours long, 30 stories underground, and travels about 1/4 mile, starting in a room with a 50-foot ceiling and squeezing the cavers through its tightest spot - a mere 8" x 24". This was my fourth time on the tour, and it never gets dull.

The "brain drain" in all its chest-scraping glory.

The following two weeks was the largest single chunk of time that I was at home throughout the entire summer. I spent it trying to heal my foot while simultaneously training for a mountaineering trip to Colorado in August.

August
Colorado 14er Trip. After a long five years of not bagging any 14ers, my former college roommate Bret, his high school best friend Steve, and I took to the rock once again for my third go at summiting some of the 14,000ft peaks in Colorado. Bret and Steve are on the quest to do all 53 of them in their lifetime and have succeeded in almost as many as their current age (mid-thirties). I just like going with to enjoy the challenge and the amazing scenery. This particular iteration brought us to Long's Peak on the Front Range in Rocky Mountain National Park down to Mt. of the Holy Cross in the Sawatch Range and finally to Mt. Sherman in the Mosquito Range near Leadville. I'm not sure whose idea it was to start with Long's and its 14-mile round trip with 5,100ft of elevation gain, followed by 11.5 miles and 5,600ft of gain the next day on Holy Cross, but it was enough to kill our original plan of doing Tabaguache and Shavano the following day.

Long's was incredible. We stayed with my wife's aunt and uncle in Estes Park in their guest apartment high up on one of the mountains outside of town. It's truly an amazing place, and the perfect staging point before our long day ahead. After about 4 hours of sleep, we got up at 2am and headed to the trailhead.

The view from the deck, with Long's on the left.

On trail by around 3:30am, we started through the woods with headlamps, passing through the various ecological zones until we left the trees and vegetation behind for a kingdom of rock. I'll let the pictures do the talking from here.

Chasm Lake junction at 11,500 at dawn.

The long boulder field with a view of the infamous North Wall.

This mountain - and all 14ers - don't f' around.

Bret and Steve in front of the Keyhole, where things get interesting.

"The Narrows" linking the 600' vertical slog of "the trough" and the last pitch to the summit.

The final 300' of slick Class 3, known as "the Homestretch."

After bonking at the keyhole and barely making it to the summit, I learned my lesson; fuel early and fuel often. It was scary coming down the Homestretch with shaky legs, but altogether an awesome summit and the highlight of the trip.

Since this post is already beyond long, I'll share just a few shots of Holy Cross and Sherman, and will consider writing a separate post on this trip, even though it was half a year ago.

Mt. of the Holy Cross, before the weather got real sketchy.

Quick summit pick before hauling ass down in 20-30mph gusts!

After two long and exhausting days of climbing, sandwiching a terrible night of camping, we checked in to the Leadville Super 8 for the night, before our last - and easiest - climb. We happened to roll in the same weekend as the Leadville 100 bike race, which was super cool. The place was hopping, and it was cool to feel the energy. I in particular was imagining how it might feel the very next weekend when the ultra would be held. Good timing, indeed.

Most densely packed bag EVER, and what comes from shopping at lower altitude.

Almost at the summit of Sherman, climbing from below right.

The new summit pose. "If you crotch it, you OWN it!"

So long, Colorado, and thanks for all the fish...er...I mean fun.

Family Vacation, Lake Wisconsin. Four days after getting home from Colorado, Anna and I took off for Wisconsin to hang with her family for a week. Her parents rented a cabin on Lake Wisconsin, and it was a great way to spend some quality time with cool people, coupled with plenty of time outside in the sunshine. We brought our two kayaks and Anna's homemade canoe, and they got a ton of love. I did my first long solo paddle from the north arm of the lake down and around to the railroad bridge near the Merrimac ferry, totaling around 11 miles. It would have been a bit easier had I not been on a schedule to get back for dinner! Altogether a solid solo quest battling the wind in open water for the first half.

Labor Day in the BWCA. Before returning to work, Anna and I took a long weekend to the Boundary Waters for a canoe trip. Putting in at Baker Lake out of Tofte, we made a leisurely trip out of the five days, mainly because we put in on a very long, narrow chain of lakes without too many options, unless we wanted to suffer through a 300 rod portage in either of two possible directions to get to bigger waters, but with as many people as were out there, we didn't feel the need to chance portaging and paddling all day just to find no vacancy in any of the campsites. Being used to hauling ass on all my canoe and kayak trips, it was a little disconcerting at first to just stay put and take day trips, but it ended up being a blast. It was Dart's first canoe trip and she was a champ in the boat, and we did plenty of swimming. I also spotted my first wild otter!

Best idea ever! Brown ale in a Nalgene, available at Fitger's Brewhouse in Duluth. (Glass is prohibited in the BWCA)

September
In regard to adventure and general badassery, September was pretty quiet. One week after the BWCA, I headed right back to the same place as a volunteer for the Superior Trail Races fall series, which I had intended to run before I got injured in Germany. I worked at the Sawbill/Britton Peak AS with the Immerfall family, who have been volunteering at that aid station for as long as the race has been in existence. It was a very quick trip, but a fun and valuable experience watching the first 100-milers come through around 2am Saturday and then the 50-milers and marathoners later in the day. Altogether I spent about 17 hours there with a three-hour nap at around 4am. I had a blast, learned a ton, and if for some odd reason I'm not running it this fall, I'll be there again helping out.

October
September finally included a more normalized running regimen after recovering from the "Fußball incident" in Germany, which led to one of my top 3 runs ever while camping in WI over the first weekend of October with my college friends. The sun was out, the temps were cold, but this 10-miler was pristine, calming, and simultaneously invigorating as I cruised along the country roads through rolling valleys and stunning scenery, complete with quaint little farms, some gravel road to challenge the Five Fingers, and a ridiculously long climb at the end of the run. Paradise!

Monster Dash Half Marathon. Anna, her brother, her friend from vet school, and I rallied together to run the race that Anna and I have been meaning to do for at least two years. I hadn't had all that much time to train since recovering, but it was enough, and I was motivated, particularly because the route is gorgeous, familiar, and mostly downhill. The people (read: costume) watching was key, bringing everything from a full-on spartan complete with sword and shield to a guy carrying a shower ring with curtain over his head for the duration of the race. We kept it simple with a big letter P on our shirts and me with some black make-up on one eye; the girls were chick peas and I - you guessed it - was a black-eyed pea. The race went really well. It took my feet the first mile or two to regain feeling after going numb in the 30-degree morning before the start, but everything warmed up nicely, and I managed a PR at 1:37:18. Although it was a ton of fun, it solidified the fact that I have no more desire to race on roads anymore. Trails are where it's at! It was worth the sweet swag though.

November
No major events to speak of this month. I was running a ton and ski season started. I thoroughly enjoyed the dry-land training with the Apple Valley runner boys as we rolled through Lebanon Hills. I was feeling really fit and was almost reluctant to get on snow.

December
Spotty was the snow and skiing, but consistent enough so that we didn't need to travel to fake snow. Anna and I had our first chance to skijor as well, she taking Dart and I taking her brother's golden retriever. It was a blast, and soooo fast! I could get used to not doing all the work.

On the Friday before Christmas, I skipped out on practice to head to River Falls and join up with Joe and Sam for a mini-WS reunion. Starting with a headlamp trail run along the Kinnikinnick river in the snow, we covered all necessary topics, with the conversation flowing as swiftly as the running. Definitely one of the top runs for the books, and it was the perfect thing to induce proper hunger for the porketta that Joe's mom left for us. I swear I must have eaten at least 3 pounds of meat for dinner, washing it down with a fine selection of brews shared in tasting style. It was here when Joe enlightened me to the notion of "the meat sweats." The evening continued at Junior's bar with more beer and even deeper conversation, concluded with a late night pizza and viewing of Goonies. A stellar way to start the holiday break. There is an indescribable feeling of camaraderie with those two guys, and it's the type of relationship everyone should have in their life.

Post-Christmas brought me back up north for the annual winter ski trip with the team. We stayed at a camp near Grand Rapids, but ended up driving to Giant's Ridge each day due to a lack of snow. I can't remember a ski trip that I enjoyed more over all the years I've coached. It was more relaxed, the skiing was solid despite meager snow, and I was feeling strong. I put in a good 50-60km over the four sessions we had.

2013
January
Skiing, skiing, and more skiing! Coaching dominates my life for three months every winter, and January is the heart of it. Unfortunately, as the race season heats up, the less skiing I get to do, but I managed my fair share. Perhaps it's because both months start with J, but I started planning for June and "the Big Juan" as Joe puts it. I'm already excited to head back to CA to see arguably the most storied ultra in the US, particularly with Joe starting as M9!

_______________

That brings us to the present. Ski season is done and I'm gearing up for both running and climbing again. I'm really gonna enjoy being part time and having my work day end at 1:35pm. In the meantime, I need to get over the cold I have at the moment, which hit me the day after the state Nordic ski meet last week. Perfect timing indeed, and perhaps a sign that I need a week off.

Now that I've detailed the year, let's take a look and evaluate, shall we?

Goals
In my third ever post, I listed off some of my goals. I'll relay them here once again:

1. Be able to climb some 5.11's in the gym before the Black Hills trip Memorial Day weekend
2. Run a steady 8min/mi pace at the half marathon (that may be adjusted later)
3. Finish the trail race in 2:30 or under (average 10min/mi pace)
4. Have fun! This includes my training.
5. Use all of this as an excuse to eat lots of delicious food and drink more beer 

Check, check, nope, check, and (especially) check!  The only goal I didn't meet was my time for the 25km, but had I gone back to those goals before the race, I would have changed that, and probably would have thrown it out altogether, seeing as it was my first trail race and I truly had no idea what to expect. My time was, however, quite acceptable to me, and now I have an idea of what to expect from the course, which is a better trade, in my opinion.

So, have I become more badass? I've certainly had a much busier year than many in the past, and my motivation and action have increased dramatically. Whether it's discovering a new love of running or having this blog as a task master, I've done more, felt more successful, and had a ton of fun along the way. I'm also picking up steam, with the Superior Trail 50km on the docket this May - my farthest distance ever, along with the annual Black Hills climbing trip, a potential 25km in April, and the whole summer off to play! The wife will also be moving to Ely for a year-long position starting in April, meaning I'll be spending plenty of time up there in the woods and on the water. Just for funzies though, let's look at the qualities of badass as set forth in my early posts and evaluate accordingly:

1. Intelligent - Well, I don't think intelligence changes, but I believe I've gained some wisdom and have engaged in more active contemplation, with this blog as proof of the latter.
2. Technically proficient - My running form has improved dramatically since last year, and I've gotten faster to boot. My body is also adapting nicely.
3. Driven by challenge - Having run only 5-milers at the farthest, I did two half marathons and a trail 25km, with a 50km set for spring. Does that count?
4. Daring - Putting myself out there and signing up for races is an improvement, but I can definitely find room for improvement here, whether it be in athletic, social, or professional settings. I tend not to take risks unless they have a high chance for success. I need to fail more.
5. Grit - I haven't reached my limits of pain and suffering yet, so I don't feel this can truly be evaluated except to say that I don't rate myself high on this one. Work for the future.
6. Concern for others and world - See here and you be the judge. I must also express my utmost thanks to all of the amazing people in my life. They are the true motivation and inspiration for me, and I hope I serve them and the rest of humanity with honor and grace.

Whew! Does anyone else feel like they need a shower? If you've made it this far, thanks for reading, and I'll definitely give you points for number 3 above. Until next time, and feel free to leave a comment.

Primal Professional Barefoot Dress Shoe (Prototype)

THE STORY - A Colorado 14er in California?
April 23rd, 2012 - A man named Mountain and his girlfriend Cherry step out of a silver rental sedan on a sunny spring afternoon and I greet them at my door for the first time in person. They will spend a few days with my wife and I along their massively epic US road trip, taking them from their home in sunny California to the cool Midwest, the East Coast, and the baked Southwest, mostly to see their homeland in its fullness, but also to take care of some business. The warmth of their West Coast home radiates from their smiles, and I like them immediately. It's true that his full name is Mountain Evan Chang, and I wonder if he's named after Mt. Evans, the third tallest peak in Colorado at 14,264ft with the highest paved road in North America. Not a bad start to life with a name like that. His female companion Cherry exudes the very essence of the fruit itself, sweet and vibrant. Indeed it seems these two were destined for greatness by their very names alone.

I met Mountain about 6 months earlier when I discovered his Indie GoGo campaign to kickstart his own business surrounding a totally new shoe design, namely for a zero-drop, minimalist dress shoe, or barefoot dress shoe as it were. Choosing to adhere to the paleo diet and live life as an urban caveman of sorts got him to thinking about bringing the ethos of his personal life into his work life, a place filled with modern conventions that are contrary to most everything we know in life to be healthy: sitting all day, slouching in front of a computer under artificial light, wearing constricting clothing, and eating junk food to stay awake to do work that does neither provide joy nor satisfaction. That may be an overstatement, but you get the idea. In any case, like many people devoted to a more primal lifestyle, being barefoot - or as barefoot as possible - is a key ingredient, for various health reasons. Thus, designing a barefoot dress shoe that not only provides comfort and a minimalist feel but also compliments the modern dress shoe style became increasingly more paramount to him as a member of the professional world.

THE DREAM
In my last post, I discussed the notion of making an impact on the world in a positive way, while also leading a kickass life. It's important to allow our dreams to be larger than life, and even more important to dedicate the energy necessary to truly make them a reality, which is what Mountain is doing, and I respect and admire him a great deal for it. Although his initial Indie GoGo campaign failed, he was so confident in his design that he quit his job and dedicated himself full-time to making this barefoot dress shoe happen. He has fronted most of his life savings to put this into production, and the moment has finally arrived. The first run of the shoe will be ready to ship in just months. Having shared in his excitement and being a supporter of his dream, I was lucky enough to snag a pair of prototypes from him to preview, so here's the sneak peek. Check it out.

THE SHOE

Design 
The idea behind this shoe is to provide as much comfort and space in an otherwise classically-shaped dress shoe, allowing for the greatest proprioception and toe-splay without sacrificing style. The clothes may make the man, but the shoes make him complete. Thus, Mountain decided on a high-quality full-grain black leather, round-toe, closed-lace, cap-toe oxford, because it's truly classic and elegant (sorry guys if the word "elegant" rubs you the wrong way - how about sexy?). It is a shoe that fits many purposes and occasions, and it's a great place to start for a minimalist dress shoe.

The penultimate feature of the design for this shoe is the shape. The shoe looks like a standard oxford, managing to hide the fact that it is wide enough to give all five little piggies room to splay and the midfoot room to expand without looking like a clown shoe. There were a couple of earlier prototypes that I had the chance to check out when Mountain was visiting, and I felt like was wearing a pair of Ronald McDonald's flattened casuals, so I'm glad that he hit the mark with this current version.

The Primal Professional in the middle, in comparison with my two pair of (very old) dress shoes.

Ultimately the coolest and most unique part of this barefoot dress shoe is the sole. The greatest beef with dress shoes for barefooters, in my observation, is the raised heel in most standard styles. To be a true barefoot dress shoe, or even a minimalist dress shoe, it would need to be zero-drop, meaning no difference in height from heel to toe, while also providing good ground feel, otherwise known more technically as proprioception. To this end, Mountain was creative in designing a sole that tricks the eye into believing the heel is raised, when in fact it's all just a ruse. By having a flexible, zero-drop sole that appears to have a raised heel, form and function become delightfully intertwined. Unfortunately, I did not get the fully finished version of the shoe, because the soles hadn't been produced yet, so the best part was missing, and instead it had just a flat piece of ersatz rubber. Here's a pic I stole from Mountain to give you the idea, however.

Quality 
Mountain went out of his way to find a manufacturer that not only is in the US, but would produce the shoe with the greatest quality, materials, and attention to detail. The leather is incredibly uniform and supple, the stitching is perfect, and it just looks sexy. I can't say that it stands out in the crowd of dress shoes, as there is really no trendy or funky accent to it, but as mentioned earlier, it's a timeless design that will withstand the fashion trends through the years. Although the pair that I received to review are unfinished in the fact that they only have an ersatz sole for the time being, the upper is impressive. Unfortunately I cannot say anything about the feel or quality of the sole itself, other than to say that the pictures look pretty swanky, and this vid - starting at 7:06 - shows superior flexibility. The entire product is manufactured by a company in Wisconsin, for which Mountain searched long and hard to ensure quality, and also to support our own national economy. A high-quality product that also maintains jobs here at home - what could be better?

Fit: The Most Comfortable Dress Shoe Ever?
To say that I was excited to receive the test prototype is an understatement. I had seen pictures of the developments and followed Mountain through the process, and thus have anticipated the final product for quite some time. In regard to the fit, they are definitely roomy enough to provide toe-splay and midfoot expansion. That being said, they didn't fit my foot terribly well. I have a very narrow heel and a wide midfoot (think swim flipper), and in order to avoid the shoe looking too clownish, the extra width in the midfoot continues back to the heel as well, making the shoe wide in general. Additionally, these are a size 7, and I normally wear a size 8 in regular shoes (7.5 in my Merrel Trail Gloves and a 39 in Five Fingers), so the sizing is also a bit wonky.

The other dilemma in designing this shoe came from the trick-the-eye sole. The foot actually rests inside of the outsole, meaning the upper must be a bit shallower to fit more properly when the foot rests so low to the ground. However, making the upper too shallow drastically changes the look of the shoe, giving it a strangely flat profile, so finding the proper shape was a challenge throughout the design process. In my case, along with my narrow heel, I also have a rather shallow foot from top to bottom. Due to this, the cuff of the shoe felt quite loose and sloppy and I never felt I could tie it quite tightly enough. The closed-lace design, while looking cleaner and classier, also hinders the ability to tie the shoe tighter, as opposed to an open-lacing system that is a bit more forgiving. I have tried on numerous closed-lace dress shoes in the past (regular dress shoes with a raised heel), and I've always had this problem around the cuff.

Laces tied all the way, foot resting normally, with visible space at heel, while wearing thick wool socks.

Despite the loose fit around the cuff, the shoes performed surprisingly well. I must admit that when I tried them on, I was disappointed, although not surprised. I know the shape of my foot well and was expecting the closed-lace design to provide a challenge in a snug fit around the cuff. Throwing all of that aside, I decided to wear them to work for a day, and being a classroom teacher who is on his feet all day, they were awesome, even with the thin, rigid temporary sole it has now. That sole, however, made them wicked slippery, and I'm glad that the actual soles will be quality non-slip rubber. Despite the temporary sole, they still looked great with a pair of nice jeans and dress shirt for "casual Friday." I tried them on with my dress pants as well when I got home, and they looked classy as hell.

So the question is; is this the most comfortable dress shoe ever? It certainly has the potential. After about an hour, I didn't notice the loose cuff except for when I went down the stairs or downhill, when my foot was pushed forward more and it cramped my toes a bit. Otherwise these were a sweet ride, and I think that with the actual sole, they will be even more comfortable. Also of note regarding the soles is that they can be replaced when worn out. Overall, I would say that there is still room for growth and improvement in the design, but seeing as this has never been done before, I give Mountain an "A" for effort. I personally am fond of the patent-leather square-toed oxford and would love to see a Primal Professional version in the future.

Is This Shoe For Everyone?
Quite a few people I've met who aren't into the minimalist "movement" don't seem to understand what the fuss is about, or they simply don't care, which begs the question of why to even consider these dress shoes, especially considering that they run around $300 a pair. Allow me to make a few points to address this. First off, let me ask you; are your dress shoes both appropriate and stylish, yet also comfortable enough to wear ALL day without sore feet by the time you take them off? If not, then you should consider these shoes. Secondly, do you want healthier, stronger feet, better posture, and a more normal, efficient gait that will prevent foot problems like bunions, a misaligned spine, and a host of other preventable maladies later in life? Consider how much time you spend at work throughout your life, for which you need to wear dress shoes (if you have such a career). Your feet will thank you for these shoes. Finally, I will direct you to this post by Jason Robillard, who has done some testing on the comfort and support of minimalist shoes while working long hours on his feet as a UPS delivery man, otherwise known as an "industrial athlete." Some of his findings and insights are truly invaluable, showing that you need not be a suit-and-tie businessman to benefit from a minimalist dress shoe. You may decide for yourself that not only is this the most comfortable dress shoe ever, but simply the most comfortable shoe, period. You even have a 365-day risk-free period to test it with free returns and exchanges during that time. That's how confident Mountain is in his product. As I mentioned earlier, you're also buying a quality product that's made in the USA from a small business owner who cares about the economy and the health of his customers (not to mention their style). That's the kind of person I would like to support.

If you're interested in more information, check out the website via the link on the side of my blog, or on The Primal Professional's Facebook page, where you'll find more photos and information on how to get in on owning a pair of these unique and comfortable shoes.

The List: Attaining Dreams and Making an Impact

Happy New Year! Well, it's 2013, the world didn't end, and here we are for another trip around the sun. Now is the time when people start making resolutions to improve their lives in the coming year, be it a plan to get in shape, be more successful in their career, or do more good for the lives of others. Of course, the cliché is that most people tend not to keep their resolutions, but I think it is nonetheless a valuable tradition. It's only a shame that most people do it only once a year at this symbolically fresh start, a sort of do-over now that we've reached the need for a new calendar. I'm a proponent of continued reflection throughout the year, and the last few weeks have brought that in various ways.

Throughout the blogosphere lately, or at least the realm in which I dwell, I've been reading a lot about two complimentary ideas, namely getting the most out of life and doing the most good. The former has included such ideas as selling everything and living a life of travel and adventure, or quitting your day job to replace it with one that you can do from anywhere at anytime and may not require much work at all. The latter has dealt with improving self and the lives of others and the greater notion of leaving a legacy. It's in the combination of these two concepts that interests me most.

On the Friday before Christmas, my two good ultrarunner friends Joe and Sam were back in town to visit family, and we managed to hook up for an awesome night run in the snow along the Kinnikinnick River in River Falls, WI. I don't often get the chance to run with friends, but a run with these guys produces rich conversation, with a flow and honesty that only a conversation while running can provide. We discussed relationships, deeper self-evaluation, future race plans, and interspersed it all with the typical humor that most male runners seem to share. All things considered, it was refreshing for the soul and a rekindling of passion for life.

Later that evening we shared a meal and more than a few beers, continuing our conversation. The three of us are all adventurers, aiming to "do cool shit" as Joe plainly puts it, but we got into the deeper repercussions of said adventure, particularly relating to ultrarunning. It's truly amazing to me still that people can run 100 miles continuously, not to mention at the paces some do, but it begs the question, "So what?" What does it truly mean, what is the value of it? In the grand scheme of things, I argued that in and of itself it doesn't mean squat, because it's not designed as a task you do to help others and improve the world. It's just doing something cool. That being said, on a more individual level it makes a huge impact: for the runner, for the crew and volunteers, and for the sake of human potential. Running 100 miles is a quest that challenges not only the body, but the mind and spirit as well, yielding huge potential for personal growth. It is, however, what you do with this growth that is important. Winning a buckle at Western States is a huge accomplishment, but if you do it just to say that you've run 100 miles in under 24 hours, it changes very little, in your life or others' lives. In Joe's case, he has used his knowledge as a physical therapist and experience as an ultrarunner to help numerous athletes as a columnist on iRunfar.com and through private coaching, not to mention his day-to-day job. Although I have not run a "hundo," my experience crewing for Joe at Western States in 2011 was inspirational to say the least and life changing to be more honest. There are many different angles in how we look at our impact on others, so long as we do consider it and make a concerted effort to be sure we're being a positive force in the world.

That brings me to a blog post I came across shortly after Christmas from a guy who quit his job, sold or got rid of most of his possessions, and is attempting to ride his motorcycle around the world. Rather than blogging about his travels, he blogs more about how to change your life for the better. The post that struck me most was on the notion of struggle. We humans need struggle. We need it to learn, grow, and create self worth. In contrast, we also seem to work diligently at making things easier for ourselves, thereby decreasing the actual struggle in our lives. It's a strange dichotomy, and for those of us who happened to be born in the right place at the right time into privilege of all sorts, our true struggles are very few, and so we create artificial struggles to overcome, to say that we too are strong, creative, intelligent, and worthy. It is for this reason that we see so many obstacle races popping up all over, like the Tough Mudder, Spartan Race, and Warrior Dash, to name a few. Although the artificial struggles may seem a bit trite at times, they can have value and may also reap huge rewards for the individual. At various points in our discussions when Joe, Sam, or I would voice some kind of complaint or issue, one of the other two of us would simply utter, "first world problems." It's a quick jerk back into reality, to say that our problems are nonsense compared to those who haven't eaten in a week, or must voyage on foot across an entire African country in order to seek refuge from rebel killers, but if we recognize this difference, we can choose to make our "first world" struggles valuable when we put their effects and outcomes to good use.

So the question is, how can you lead the most kickass AND badass life possible, living life to the fullest and still making the greatest difference in the world? That is for each of us to decide, and that's the reason behind this post. I'm reminded of a quote by E.B. White, author of Charlotte's Web, that frames the issue quite well; "I get up every morning determined to both change the world and have one hell of a good time. Sometimes this makes planning my day difficult." It's a valid sentiment, but must it be so? Can succeeding in a self chosen "struggle" yield just as much joy and satisfaction as just "doing cool shit?"

Last Saturday my wife and I watched the documentary Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide. It was not only incredibly well done, but inspiring and thought provoking, to see ideal examples of what people are doing around the world, despite all odds, to make a difference in the lives of others. It is a two-part documentary reporting on six countries around the world where individuals or groups of people have set out to overcome seemingly insurmountable struggles such as sex trafficking, accepted gender-based violence, and unequal opportunities in education for girls. Some of the tales are harrowing, in which the individuals literally risk their lives to save underage girls from a life of rape and violence in brothels. Without a doubt it was a film to make me wonder if I'm doing enough, or if I'm doing anything at all. As a teacher, I can always say that I'm making a difference in the lives of young people, but I am a white male born in the United States, armed to the teeth with the weapons of privilege. Now is the time to contemplate if I'm using my weapons wisely and completely.

The final piece in this whirlwind of thought as of late was a post by Jason Robillard on his blog, detailing his new undertaking called the BRUcrew - a community of like-minded individuals devoted to improving themselves and the world around them by overcoming their fears and stepping up to more meaningful interactions and undertakings. It's a cool idea, although I wouldn't say totally unique. There are plenty of self-improvement strategies and groups out there, but this one found me first, mainly because he's a barefoot runner and ultrarunner and started the group mainly for training purposes, and is now expanding it to include more altruistic challenges. In any case, all of these thoughts and experiences lately have compounded to an idea I had (or stole) from my good friend Jen last summer while at her wedding in the Bighorn mountains of Wyoming. The officiant at the ceremony told several short stories about her and her groom, but one struck me as particularly simple, but brilliant. He explained that while inside Jen's apartment for the first time, he noticed a piece of paper on the fridge on which she listed all of her big dreams. They ranged from smaller, more easily attainable dreams, up to the huge ones that will be years in the making. Now, I've always been a visual person and also a list-maker. I have yellow sticky notes all over my desk and computer at work to remind me of various things, so this idea of a "dream list" struck me as a wonderful idea, to have a simple reminder staring me in the face every time I go for a glass of milk or post-workout beer. Thus I started two lists, in fact. The first list includes only names of people with whom my wife and I have pledged to have dinner or hang out. It will not only keep us on track, but give us something to look forward to in the coming months. The second list, however, is the Big One. I have titled it "The Dream is Reality List," and it includes mostly adventures so far, such as traveling to New Zealand, climbing Devil's Tower, and running at least a 50-miler. I hope to expand that list into one that will include endeavors to make a difference in others' lives, and Anna and I have already started discussing some possibilities, which is the first task. In seeking out answers to the questions posed here, we must first define a tangible and specific action that will be list-worthy.

Should you have similar feelings and desires at the turning of the new year, here are two resources to check out that helped - or will help - me flesh out the specifics better. Check out some of the links and/or additional posts by these gentlemen. They may not be mind-blowing, but they are a great place to start thinking, and better yet dialoging with others. Cheers!

Motovagabond - How to Find Your Passion
Building a Legacy Project: A Good Blueprint For a Life That Really Matters

Joy: Beyond the Runner's High

Nestled in the middle of one of the larger suburbs of the Twin Cities is a true gem for trail runners, nature lovers, horseback riders, or anyone in search of some solitude, beauty, or fresh air. At times it is a compact, cozy place, and yet it spans a rather vast territory, crossing over two major roads each a mile or more apart, and when thinking of the neighborhoods at the farthest ends, you wouldn't be wrong in assuming that you're in a completely different city. It does, in fact, stretch into the neighboring suburb of Rosemount. I'm speaking of Lebanon Hills Regional Park in Eagan, MN, one of my favorite places to run.

I've had the opportunity to train here for many years, and I've still never been on all the trails. That is to say that I'm often a creature of habit and have my favorite trails that get me as deep into the park as possible, away from all other humans, which is often a goal when I run. Lately, however, I've been running with teenagers everyday as a coach for a Nordic ski team.

In the last two weeks or so, something in the universe must have changed, because almost every run there has presented some unique factor to it that has brought me Joy, capital J intended. Runners often talk about the runner's high, the endorphins, and epic runs, but these runs seemed to have gone beyond that simple pleasure, and each run was joyful for a different reason. Thanksgiving week started with near-60 degree weather, allowing the guys on the team to run shirtless during progression intervals, but by the end of the week, Friday greeted us with only 24 degrees and snow on the ground - the first true cold run of the season. For me, the intervals on Monday were almost magical. I felt swift and relaxed, as if my feet weren't actually touching the ground but only mimicking a runner's stride so as not to disparage the kids. The grassy, rolling hills propelled me forward, awakening my senses and invigorating me. It is difficult to fully describe, but at the end of the workout I felt connected to the trail, the woods, the earth itself, and was ready for more. The kids, on the other hand, were spent.

Tuesday was a long, easy distance day. I took my usual group of the top cross-country guys and headed out. Along our 7.5-mile route on the innermost trail in the park, we meandered past lakes and ponds as the sun hung low in the November sky. Rounding a bend and coming upon one of the nameless lakes to my left, a warm, blanketing light draped the woods and water in a content stillness with a hues of gold and burnt umber, flooding my heart with equal warmth and stillness. Even in the forest on a calm day, such stillness is fleeting, and almost as quickly as it arrived, the calm was broken by the greeting of a Great Horned Owl's call from the opposite side of the trail, where the woods had already darkened and become almost brooding. Such somber sound and sight I considered more of a greeting, however, offering up my salutations as we passed.

After a Thanksgiving filled with binging on rich and succulent foods and doing absolutely nothing, I was ready for a run on Friday morning. Despite the cold weather and snow underfoot, everyone seemed chipper and ready to share their stories of how they ate too much. With the holiday warmth still fresh and the air crisp in our lungs, the run was effortless and the surroundings quiet once again. Although I usually dread the first cold run of the season, once I'm out there it's instantly therapeutic. All in all, it was a brilliant "recovery" from Thanksgiving, and also prepped me for Thanksgiving #2 with my wife's family later that day.

Fast forward to last Thursday. The weather was warmer again, and over-under intervals were on the docket. I was in charge of the varsity boys, and this would prove to be a difficult challenge for me, keeping up with them during two sets of 18 minutes of sustained hard running. Although they toasted me on the uphills (they had poles and I did not), the flats and the downs actually provided them with a challenge to keep up with me! It's not often that I can outrun the varsity boys, but this day proved that I'm clearly the fittest I've been in years. This accomplishment was not what brought me the most joy, however, but rather it was as we returned to the parking lot at the end of practice, where the trees faded away and the sky opened up to brilliant shades of imperial violet that caressed the sky as dusk fell, hushing the worries and chaos of the day. For those who don't get outside much in the colder season, this alone is the reason to venture outdoors at dusk. The sunsets are phenomenal, and completely different from anything in the summer. Combine that sight with a successful workout, and you have the perfect recipe for true Joy with a capital J.

After all of these stark moments, I have since felt more open and susceptible to Joy, aware of my surroundings and the privilege I have to run in such a place. Used as a form of meditation, of emptying one's mind of worry or obligation, a run in the woods provides a transparency of soul, allowing for better introspection and the intake of all things positive and inspirational. It is this opening up that, after spending too much time closed off in our own personal worlds of work and daily routine, makes running such a vital component in maintaining health and happiness in life, in a way that may not be as easily attained through other pursuits.

Do runner's experience more Joy than other people? It's hard to say, but I do believe that we are more susceptible to it, and I also believe that there is much more Joy to be found outside in a natural surrounding. Since runners spend a great deal of time outside, our chances are better, even more so for trail runners. This is also the reason why I love to camp, ski, rock climb, kayak, and do just about anything else in nature, and winter is no time to avoid it. When natural beauty and adventure intertwine, framed with an open mind and heart, happiness and contentment are unavoidable, but if you're seeking true Joy, get out and run on a trail somewhere. You might find that which has eluded you, but as LeVar Burton from Reading Rainbow says, "Don't take my word for it."