Sun Mountain 50 Mile Fun Run

Rainshadow Running hosted the Sun Mountain 25k/50k/50 Mile races yesterday in Winthrop, WA.  I don't know about the 25k and 50k options, but running the 50 miler was hard.   It's not really the elevation that gets you (7500 ft or so of gain and loss), or the technicality (not much, really - soft trail the whole way when I was kind of expecting dust and rocks).  It's just that 50 miles is a long way to run.  And also, it's just that James Varner, the race director, put in the hardest climb at mile 45 (or mile 46 if, like me, you did some bonus miles early in the race), because he likes to see people suffer.  The course, theoretically, was easier than the only other 50 I've done at White River (and I did in fact improve on my 50 mile time there by about 20 minutes, finishing in 9:40), but it was more of a psychological struggle.  It wasn't as hard as that crazy crap that a bunch of us tried in the Issaquah Alps a few weeks ago, but still hard.

I'll let others report on the other distances, but on the 50 mile side, Seattle favorite Adam Hewey got the win by holding off Colin Miller, one of those stinking North Vancouver Canadians who keep invading our country and taking all of our races.  Adam's time was a 6:49, which, for those keeping track, was about 3 hours faster than mine.  In my defense, after the race his blood tested positive for performance enhancing burritos.  On the women's side, Stacey Cleveland from Penticton, BC won in 7:19.  The race's most notable runner, my wife Angel Mathis, ended up with her first DNF, which sucks, but was kind of predicted because she's been sick on the couch for two weeks with some kind of viral plague that seems to have turned into a sinus infection.  Impressively, she still managed to gut out 27 miles during which she reported not being able to breathe, sitting down on the side of the trail, trying to find a spot to take a nap, and walking the 7 miles between the final two aid stations she passed.  She also reported that she would have dropped at mile 20, but was inspired at that aid station by Cam Painter's colorful tights to keep going another 7.  Guts, determination, and questionable fashion sense.  Her husband is a lucky man.

I know I said I wasn't going to report on the other distances but I would like to note that, in the women's 50k race, our friend and relative newcomer to trail racing, Jaime Clark, finished 2nd woman and 6th overall in 4:29  (17 seconds behind the winner Sara Mathewes from OR) in just her 2nd 50k.  I would like to officially offer her a sponsorship from alittlerunny that includes a patch to put on her hydration pack, any of my old tech shirts that she wants, and event transportation in the form of a carpool to any race that both of us happen to be running.  (Angel already called shotgun.)

Personally, I had an unusual day.  The first 14 miles of the course were relatively flat - rolling hills to shake out the legs before the climbing starts - but I didn't feel particularly great.  I don't know if it was the early start, or the lack of sleep from clinical commitments during the week, but I wasn't into it early on.  It was probably only about 45 - 50 degrees, but we were running through exposed fields and for some reason the sun was getting to me.  On top of that a course arrow had blown over, and a large group of us ended up off track, which added on probably somewhere between 1 - 2 miles.  Between miles 14 - 20 was the first climb and descent of the day.  It was 1000 feet in each direction, and very manageable on the Rainshadow scale, but by the mile 20 aid station I was feeling remarkably bad for so early in the race. Luckily, I was able to diagnose one of my major issues, which was that the electrolyte drink I was using was making my stomach feel consistently like crap.  (I haven't run with electrolyte drink in about 6 months, but I figured that since it would be sunny and hot I'd go for it.)  I dumped that garbage and switched my fluids over to plain water plus an occasional slug of Hammer Perpetuum - an endurance-specific product I was trying out for the second time, and which I was actually really happy with.  I don't know that I'd use it exclusively (it's marketed as the only nutrition you'll need during a race), and I definitely want some plain water for hydration, but it was almost immediately soothing for my stomach when I got all acidic from Shot Blocks and gels and oranges and watermelon and coke.

Between miles 20 and 35 there is a gradual 1500 foot uphill and descent, most of which is under tree-cover, and I felt as remarkably good during this section as I did remarkably bad during the first part of the race - which is to say, I have no idea how running works.  One key, I think, was that psychologically something clicked at about mile 22, and I decided to adjust my expectations of the race from "Maybe I'll have an awesome race and find out that I'm great at the 50 mile distance" to "Maybe I'll just have a nice long fun run where I won't die".  After that, when I'd start to feel like crap, I'd ask myself "What would a fun runner do?"  The answer was usually walk, take some pictures, eat something and lighten up.  So I did take some lovely pictures along the way:

   
Miles 35 - 40 included the third big climb of the day, which was exposed to the sun (probably about 75 degrees by that point) and felt predictably hard, but I was still in good spirits.  Great view at the top near the Sun Mountain Lodge:

By the time I made it to the final aid station at mile 44 point something, I was surprised at how quickly I was moving.  I asked a volunteer how much further it was to the end, and when they told me about 6 miles, I thought, "Damn, if I can keep 12 minute miles (not unreasonable), I'll finish in the low 9-hour range!  I must be really good at 50 milers!"  Then they pointed at a giant mountain and said, "Yeah, you just have that one big climb and down, and you're done!"  Then I thought "Dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit."  I'm pretty sure that was the steepest, most exposed, most sustained climb of the day, and it seemed to go on way longer than the reported 2 miles (although I'm sure it actually didn't). At that point it was great to know that I was going to finish, but my climb was fueled primarily by curse words and bitterness.  I'd been leapfrogging for most of the run with my friends Tho and John, and a guy I met on the run named Ryan, and they were helpfully encouraging at that stage.  John had been vomiting early in the race but somehow managed to rally at the end, and dropped us all on the final downhill, which I have to say was pretty impressive.  By that stage in the race, I was walking some even on downhills, but was, for the most part, able to run it in the last few downhill/flat miles.

Overall the event was a typical Rainshadow race, which is to say really fantastic:  Amazing scenery the whole way in one of the prettiest spots in WA (and hence the world), a course that was challenging enough to make you feel like you accomplished something significant in finishing, great support and aid, good marking (despite the blown down arrow) and race communication, and an after party where you hang out with friends and celebrate achievements, drink beer, eat pizza and cheer in the rest of the runners.

Lessons learned, for my edification and yours:

1) Sun Mountain is a really scenic race - consistently beautiful for the entire course. 

2) Traditional electrolyte drinks are not worth the stomach distress for me.  I do better with water, fruit, gels/shot blocks, Perpetuum, and s-caps in a pinch if there's no salt and potatoes at aid stations (my strong personal preference).

3) My Ultimate Direction SJ pack is passable, but I'm not convinced that it's optimal - for the first time I got pretty annoyed with the front-mounted bottles, mainly on the downhills after mile 40, because they were bouncing and hurting my ribs.  I've never had that issue before, but I've also never worn the pack for anything over 50k before. 

4) I think my feet are getting bigger/heat makes my feet swell - I'm probably going to move up a half size for the Camino and Cascade b/c by the end my 13s felt tight around the toes in the heat.

5) Doing anything the second time is easier than doing it the first.  Going in to this 50, I was a bit nervous because I haven't gone that far in about 9 months, but I never really doubted that I was going to finish because I was committed and knew I have a high enough tolerance for suffering to make it through, even if I ended up being super slow.  In the end, I finished in about the time expected beforehand, and faster than White River, despite not feeling nearly as good as I had in that race.

 6) The feeling of a genuine ultra, for me, is the feeling of shifting from "I just have to see how fast I can run this distance" to "I have to figure out how to keep eating, drinking and moving without passing out", and I usually define a tough run as one where I end up walking sections against my will.  I've had a couple of good ultra experiences in the last few weeks, and a couple of tough runs.  It puts to prospect of 100 miles in good perspective for me: eating, drinking and moving for way longer than you want to.  If all goes as planned, in a couple of months I'll be giving it a shot.

Lightweight Pilgrimmage on El Camino de Santiago

Lots of folks know that Angel and I will be heading out with a couple of friends in almost exactly a month on El Camino de Santiago, a 500-ish mile pilgrim trail across Northern Spain which traditionally starts in Saint Jean Pied de Port in France, on the East side of the Pyrenees, and ends in Santiago, 80 km from the Atlantic coast in Western Spain.  (We'll continue on to Finisterre - the traditional 'end of the earth on the Atlantic - if all goes well and we can fit it in time-wise).  It's a relatively flat trip that thousands of people take every year, and have been since the Middle Ages, and it's going to be awesome - 4 - 5 weeks of small European villages, wine, pork products, and new international friends on meaningful journeys. 

I'm going to be writing a lot more about the trip, I'm sure, but the part we're wrestling with right now is packing.  In a lot of ways our experience won't be much like that of traditional pilgrims - I'm pretty sure, for instance, that nuns in 1300 AD didn't sleep in hostels and drink sodas out of vending machines any time they wanted.  But I do want to do what I can to engage with the experience like a pilgrim, and part of what will determine how I experience it will be what I take along.  Lots of folks pack like they were headed out on the Appalachian trail, but my goal is to take as little as possible.  A huge part of the Camino experience that I want to have involves 1) learning to rely on strangers and 2) stepping away from daily comforts and learning to live on the basics.  It also involves integrating running on a lot of days, and a heavy pack isn't really compatible with that.  At a practical level, we'll be averaging 15 - 20 miles a day across 4 - 5 weeks (including, potentially, a 50 mile day at the end to get from Santiago to Finisterre if our bodies hold up), and I also want that to be as enjoyable as possible.  30 pounds on my back seems like a recipe for pain to me.  So, I've been looking around at folks who've done this before with a similar ethos, and found a couple of good blogs - including Michael Stricklan who did it a few months ago, and who was kind enough to send me a long email detailing his experience, and this guy who did it a few years ago and has a decent set of details online. 

Based on their input, the basic packing list I've put together (for my edification as much as yours) includes:

Clothes:
1 short sleeved tech shirt
1 pair running shorts
3 pairs of socks
A couple pairs of underwear (maybe)
Buff to use to cover dirty hair, soak in water to cool, look like a rugged adventurer
Brooks Cascadias (most reliable shoe I've found)
1 Patagonia Houdini wind/rain shell (don't have it yet)
1 pair of convertable long/short pants for evenings - lightest weight I can find
1 shirt for evenings
1 pair $2 flip flops for evenings

Gear:
Silk sleeping bag liner
earplugs
Fastpack/ultra runners pack (I've been toying with the idea of trying to fit everything into my 9.6 liter Ultimate Direction pack plus a waist belt, but we'll see how it shakes out.)
20 oz water bottle
First aid kit
Compeed bandage for blisters and foot protection
1 bar of soap for body and clothes
Travel toothbrush and toothpaste
lightweight fleece towel
debit card, Passport, Pilgrim's Passport allowing access to hostels
camera
small flashlight

Necessary Evil/luxury:

Kobu mini e-reader loaded up with NCLEX questions (I have to take my nursing licensing exam a couple weeks after we get back from the trip, so this will allow me to study along the way.)

I'm planning for food to come along the way, saving enough space to carry a lunch.

Anything I'm forgetting people who've done this before? 

Interview in Trail Runner

For the small percentage of you who follow this blog but aren't on Facebook, I wanted to let you know that Trail Runner Magazine put up an interview I conducted with my friend Ras about his recent outing to cross the Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim 6 times in one push.  Pretty cool!

Here's the link to the interview

Issy Alps Humpdayathon II

First peak - Mailbox.  Happy times.

Maybe it's the post-exertion brainfog, but I genuinely don't know where to start in writing up a report on yesterday's "run". Beautiful, humbling, fun, painful, demoralizing, fantastic.  I usually try to congeal run reports into something short, sweet, funny and entertaining, but this one's going to be long, thorough, introspective, not that funny, and chock full of pictures to convey the epic scale of yesterday's adventure. 

Planned Course and Logistics:

Yesterday at about 6:30 AM, 18 of us left from the Mailbox Peak trailhead to try to run either 50k, 100k, or 100 miles connecting some of the hardest and prettiest climbs in the Northbend/Issaquah Alps area - basically getting the full tour of the best views in the Cascade foothills along the I-90 Corridor in one day (or, well, one push anyway - the 100 milers were planning to take 34 - 36 hours).  It was meant to progress as: First 50k: Mailbox Peak, Mt Teneriffe (that's a hard even to spell, let alone to climb), Mt Si, Little Si.  Second 50k: Rattlesnake Ridge, Tiger Mountain.  Final 40-ish miles: Squak, Cougar, repeat back to the High Point trailhead at Tiger.   It was a new course (they did another route last year - starting at Si and going over Rattlesnake, Tiger, Squak and Cougar) and it would be difficult to come up with a harder route in the area, or a more beautiful one.  The 50k had 12 - 13,000 feet of steep climbing, the 100k route had 20,000 feet, and the 100 mile route had 30,000 feet.  The run was labelled as self-supported, but in reality we had a fantastic crew - a volunteer drove a van that functioned as a mobile aid station and met us at several trailheads, and other folks set up along the route with supplies as good as/or better than any race that you pay for.  So, theoretically, we didn't have to carry much and could move relatively quickly.  I was signed up for the 100k, which I knew would be a stretch, but I was pretty sure I could do it.   

What Actually Happened

The mountains defeated us all.

I made a joke before the start about how we needed a group photo so they would know how many bodies they needed to locate, and I wasn't that far off.  Nobody seems to have died, but the course definitely scored at least a TKO on our group.  No one completed the scheduled 100k route (although one runner probably would have eventually if the rest of us hadn't decided to drop and if we hadn't been running so late that our scheduled aid stations would no longer exist), a significant number cut off at least part of the 50k route, and the 100 milers skipped Si and took a shuttle from Little Si to Tiger to finish out a 100k overnight and avoid potentially crazy snow on Rattlesnake.

It was a genuinely perfect weather day - 65 degrees and sunny with completely clear skies, and folks were in great spirits climbing up Mailbox Peak.  The views were spectacular, and even though there was a significant amount of snow on the top (foreshadowing!!!), the post-holing was manageable, especially since a couple of runners had started an hour before us and established a nice boot trail to follow.  Folks in shorts were scraping their calves to the point of bleeding on the snow, but other than that things were manageable.  A plurality of my pictures are from there because it was the best view of the day (big panoramic views for a satisfyingly large percentage of the climb), and because by the time we got to the other peaks my camera lens was all smeared up with blood and tears. 

 
It took us about 3 hours to get up and down Mailbox, and at the bottom we were happy to utilize our mobile aid station for the first time.  I ate a bunch of fruit, pastry, and some coke with an ill-advised shot of vodka from another runner who is obviously a bad influence on his peers.  From there, we crossed over the Snoqualmie river and connected several miles of roads and trails to get to the base of Teneriffe.  The front group of runners arrived before the mobile aid station that was meeting us, but we decided to push on because all of us had enough supplies to last a few hours until we would meet them again (foreshadowing!!!).

There was debate before the ascent whether Teneriffe was a harder climb than Mailbox.  During the Summer I'm not sure, but today Teneriffe was a harder climb than Mailbox.  You head up a trail past a spot called Kamikaze falls, which was beautiful because of the large amount of snowmelt (foreshadowing!!!).

After that we started ascending the snowy boot trail that started where you see the runner above.  It's a crazy climb even when it's dry - lots of using your hands to pull yourself up on roots and that sort of thing.  It's kind of like a ladder made of roots and slippery rocks that goes on for a couple of miles.  Today, a couple hundred feet above the spot here, it was covered in slushy snow, and really slick.  This section was extremely slow going (Strava reported 68 and 64 minute miles), but we eventually made it to the top and were rewarded with panoramic views that were similarly spectacular to Mailbox.

My shutter seems to be frozen shut. 

Folks had been on Teneriffe last week, and it was passable, but the North Bend area got a huge dumping of snow over the weekend.  I'm not sure why, but Teneriffe seemed to have significantly more snow cover than Mailbox even, but at the top folks were still in good spirits, because we just had a quick bushwhack and then an easy downhill logging road to follow to get back to the bottom.  Except that the logging road was covered for miles in 6 foot drifts of pillowy white snow.  The road undulates along the mountain for what seemed like 15 miles (but was probably more like 1 - 2) before dropping down, so the snow depth was consistent for quite awhile, and the snow line was at about 2000 feet, which is closer to the bottom of the mountain than the top.  The five miles at the top of Teneriffe took us about 5 hours by my hazy calculations.  The slow-going was demoralizing, to me anyway, especially because at the 5 hour point  I realized my 5 hours worth of food wasn't going to last me - especially since we still had to climb Si and Little Si (about 4000k of climbing total) before the next aid station.  Halfway down Teneriffe I had 100 calories worth of Clif Shot Blocks left, and that was it, and I was already feeling kind of bonky, if still optimistic enough.   

just an easy downhill road run

The front pack of runners didn't realize it, but after Teneriffe the majority of folks in the back (who we hadn't really seen since Mailbox) tapped out (you can catch a road from the base to the next aid station at the Little Si trailhead just a couple of miles away) - though the three who'd planned on doing the full 100 miles shuttled to Tiger Mountain to finish out 38 final miles.  I'm personally glad I was in the front, because I with no food I would have been really tempted to drop out with them.  Instead, we caught the Talus Loop Connector trail to the main Mt Si trail for another 3000-ish feet of climbing.  As soon as I started heading back up, I knew I was in bad shape.  I was totally out of food, and the old lady I tried to mug along the way for her Snickers bar fought me off.  I could tell I was bonking hard, hating life and generally feeling down and defeated, but I've done Si enough times that I knew what to expect, and I knew that I could keep moving at a slow pace and be to the top within an hour, which seemed manageable - particularly after another runner graciously gave me an energy bar when I started crying.  We made it to the top at a little after 6 pm, and I sat for awhile, resting, and bummed a couple more things to eat from other people in order to help make it the rest of the way. 

I took this picture sitting down on a rock 1) to prove we were there, 2) because I was too blasted to stand up for a fuller view.

It's amazing what a downhill and a couple hundred calories will do for your mood, because headed down the Old Mt Si trail to the Little Si trail I felt good enough to think that I still might try to finish out the 100k if I could find others who wanted to.  I even tried to do a little jump over some rocks and roots just for fun.  Predictably, I caught my foot on one of the roots, almost fell, and immediately started cramping, so I had to remind myself once again that I'm not that cool.  By that point most of the group that I'd been running with had pulled away from me, and some runners who were behind caught up and I just basically tried to coast along with them.

I had been planning to skip Little Si to go back to the trailhead and try to eat enough to recover and keep going (the actual route was 65 miles, so I figured if I cut off the 3 at Little Si I still would get in a 100k), but by the bottom the other runners had decided they were going to drop.  All of them are significantly tougher than me, so I figured that it was okay if I admitted that it wasn't my day either, and I decided to do Little Si and call it quits.  All in all, that made for a nice finish for the day.  It took me a half hour or so to walk/jog to the viewpoint on Little Si, which put me there right around dusk (8 pm or so, if I remember correctly - the planned 5 - 6 hours on Teneriffe/Si had ended up taking over 9).  I'd never been there before and it ended up being a great spot to stop and marinate in the day's accomplishments, and generally make peace with having run a damn impressive 13.5 hour, 13,000 foot 50k rather than a genuinely epic probably 24 hour 100k.

Lessons Learned

This run was a free, self-supported kind of endeavor, but going in I was putting more weight on it than I do most paid races.  I was approaching it as a buildup to a potential 100 at Cascade Crest in the Summer (pending graduation from the wait list), with an equal amount of elevation gain being completed across a shorter distance, and a chance to see how I would perform over basically an entire day of running (my longest previous run in terms of time was 12 hours, but that was pacing a friend at the end of a 100 miler, so it wasn't at a race pace for me).  I'm disappointed that I didn't finish the full 100k, and didn't run for the planned 18 - 20 hours, but it was still my longest run in terms of time and my hardest run in terms of exertion, and in that regard it was a significant milestone.  I learned a lot:  

1)  Don't underestimate the elements.  We had a gorgeous day, and I thought I could do the peaks we were traversing under good conditions, but one significant dumping of snow over the weekend essentially short-circuited the plans for the entire group.  The people who were planning on the 50k option did what they set out to do, but I'm sure it was tougher than they'd thought it would be.  You don't conquer the mountains.

2) It's much better to have too much food than not enough.  Lately I've been in the habit of trying to carry less, so on this run I grabbed just what I thought would be enough calories for each segment.  When 6 hours turned into 9 hours, an enjoyable run turned into a 3 hour miserable bonk that culminated in a mental and physical lull that I didn't think I could get out of fast enough to continue on.  1000 more densely packed lightweight calories in my pack would have completely prevented that, and would have cost almost nothing in terms of weight.  Lesson learned dummy!

3) Even when I'm bonking hard, I can keep moving.  I'm not sure where my mind would have gone if I wasn't with people who were able to give me a bit to eat but physically I was at least able to keep walking the uphills and shufflling downhill.  That knowledge could well come in handy if I'm stupid again and don't bring enough food on a run.        

4) I get cold when I'm over-exerted and undernourished.  I've been on multiple overnight runs, snow runs, and runs through pouring rain, but I've never had a problem with temperature regulation.  Yesterday I was having problems though, and I think it's due to the combo of not enough calories and a long hard day.

5) To go in a different direction, the trail running experience is, in large part, about the kindness of friends and strangers.  Volunteers organized this massive endeavor for free.  Volunteers spent their entire day (and in some cases, night) providing aid.  Conversations along the trial kept our minds occupied so the run would be more enjoyable.  People gave me enough to eat while I was bonking so I didn't totally hate life.  Through the whole day, we were reliant largely on people we didn't know.  A microcosm of life. 

All in all it was genuinely epic.  Right now I'm still beat and just want a hamburger, but I'm sure this one will go down as one of my top 5 runs. Thanks so much to everyone who organized and went along! 

Yakima Skyline Rim Aid Station Report

1) Work, class and clinical have been harshing my blogging buzz the last few weeks, so this is way late, and you probably know everything you wanted to about last week's Yakima Skyline Rim 50k by now, but whatever. 

2) I have some found time because I've decided to spend the next day and a half on the couch because: a) YOLO!, b) I'm tapering for a seriously ill advised run on Wednesday at the Issy Alps Humpday 100k, c) I have a paper I have to catch up on for school before Monday and d) YOLO! again.

So, here's a new blog post.

Last weekend Angel and I headed over to volunteer at the Yakima Skyline Rim 25k/50k.  We camped out the night before at the Tall Pines recreation area a few miles from the start in the Yakima River Canyon, which was a great choice because the spot was gorgeous and the weather was beautiful, and it gave us an excuse to get all smelly and eat smores and beer around a fire for the first time this season.  On race day Angel was officially a medic and I was an aid station volunteer, but nobody got very hurt (except Betsy Rogers' knees , which finished way before we made it back to the start), so it worked out that Angel did her duty handing out bottles of water and electrolytes and I spent the day trying to sneak and eat the runners' gummy bears and soda.  It's too bad, because I was hoping to get some practice starting IVs and doing field dressings on compound fractures.  We decided to volunteer at this one because runners should do that sort of thing, we've pretty much blown our racing budget for the first half of the year already, and it'll earn us a free entry into another Rainshadow Running event - Sun Mountain in May.  Working the aid station was great and all - we had a really fun group of people to hang out with, we had to four wheel precariously up a mountain to get to the location, and we got to hang out all day in front of this view:

Photo stolen shamelessly from Susie Van Den Ameele's Facebook

But I admit that I was jealous of the runners all day.  This was our first 50k (last year), and still the hardest racing experience I've had, on what for my taste is the prettiest course I've run.  As runners came through our aid station (it was an out and back , so we saw them at mile 10, and again on their return at mile 20), I knew how much physical suffering and  psychological trauma I was missing out on.  It was a perfect weather day, and much cooler than last year, so I'm pretty sure I could have significantly improved my time.  And Glenn Tachiyama was out taking photos again, getting what turned out to be some of his coolest pictures ever on the course.  I'm sure I would've looked awesome as usual.  After a few hours I got so bitter that I started telling Genia Kacey's son that I'd give him quarters if he'd put dirt in runners' water bottles as they passed through.  (Great kid by the way - 5-ish years old and he soldiered through a 4 am wakeup, 2 hours of driving, and 6 hours at a cold windy aid station with great spirits.  Plus one of the first things he said to us on the ride up was "Adam Levine is my mom's secret boyfriend.") 

Not really about the dirt thing.  Actually, I got my fix of running in the area by doing the 25k course a couple of weeks beforehand with the Seattle Running Club, going out at dusk the night before the race to the top of the first climb to enjoy the view in the evening light, and running the last 10 miles of the course in with Genia Kacey after our aid station duties were finished.  I did regret not running, but it was still lots of fun to see the race from that perspective, and get a sense of the variety of experiences that people have on this kind of ultra - marketed, believably I think, as the toughest 50k in the PNW.  One thing I learned is that, no matter where they fell in the pack, people who train primarily on roads were amazed by the course's beauty at mile 10, and destroyed by the climbs at mile 20 - one of the early leaders borrowed a volunteer's phone to tell his wife he was going to be later than expected the second time we saw him.  Classic ultra experience.)  Another thing I learned is that the people you should take racing advice from were 1) The Seattle Running Club's Maxwell Ferguson who added to an increasingly impressive resume by destroying the course record in 4:55, and looked fresh and happy when we say him both times around, and 2) our new Canadian friend Alicia Woodside, who finished as third women's, but more importantly seemed to be having markedly more fun than anyone else on the course.  You should also ask my friend and sometimes training partner Chris Chamberlin what he's been having for breakfast, because he took over an hour off of his time from last year's race. For those scoring at home, that's like 2 minutes/mile, which is a lot.

It's only the 3rd or 4th time I've volunteered at an aid station, but I've sorted out that the real keys to success are:

1) try to find the station in the prettiest spot with the coolest people
2) try to look busy when the station coordinator is around
3) bring booze for the runners
4) don't ask runners if they have anything to drink that you can have
5) stop going through people's dropbags
6) don't encourage people to quit, and
7) runners aren't happy when all you have at the station is sugar-free Trident and balsamic vinegar. 

Just get up and keep running.

Bill Iffrig just trying to finish his freaking run.

First off, as I think we can all agree, screw people who bomb other people.  

Now that we have that out of the way, I just wanted to note that Bill Iffrig's awesome.  I don't know him any more than the other billion people who've seen this picture of him, but he represented Club Northwest, the Seattle running community, and runners in general so well yesterday.  This picture and his story have gone viral in part, I think, because it's so representative of the whole situation:  A tough, venerable old Runner (Bill, and the Boston Marathon itself) gets knocked down at the finish line by some asshole.  Then, they roll over, recover, and keep running.  Screw you asshole.  Endurance is what the marathon is about.

Here's a story and the really scary looking video of the first explosion and him going down, if you somehow haven't seen it yet.  I haven't read many stories online that actually give him his due as a runner.  At 78, he's one of the top age group runners in the country, and finished 2nd in his age group at this one - running a time that's pretty slow for him actually.  Check out his times on Athlinks.  He's fast.

Top 9 Best Things on the Internet Relating in Some Way to WA Trail Culture

Today I spent 9 hours in class, so needless to say, by about 4 PM I had finished reading everything on the internet.  After this exhaustive survey, I was struck by how much our local internetters stood out, and particularly how excellent WA outdoorsy types are at internetting.  Seems like every week they produce some new, amazing web-thing.  I've thought for a while about updating the links over there ----->.  I still haven't done that, but I thought that gathering together some of the best places on the internet would be a step in the right direction to highlight the amazing things you people are creating to keep us on the trails, even when we're sitting around on the computer, nursing stupid hamstring pulls that we got stupid bouldering.  What follows is my own personal Top 9 Best Things on the Internet Relating in Some Way to WA Trail Culture, in no particular order. The focus is on material with a creative edge, rather than straight informational race reports, trail descriptions, or training blogs, because that's what I like and this is my list, damn it.  It also focuses on live/active blogs or sites that are updated regularly, because as all endurance athletes know, quantity is more important than quality.

Before I get on to that, I should just note quickly what actually got me thinking about how high the quality of web-production is in this area.  While all 1000 of my Facebook friends had brilliant and hilarious status updates today, there were two things that I was particularly excited to see on my newsfeed: 1) a new Shoeless Joe interview on the Seattle Running Club site, and 2) the posting of the first Ultrapedestrian podcast featuring all of the coolest people in the Washington trail and ultra running scene.  Excellent work to those who produced both of those gems.  Excellent work also to those who continually produce these gems, and apologies to anyone I forgot:

1) Did you know that the guy who wrote that Killian Jornet NYT article, Becoming the All Terrain Human, is a Seattle guy?  It's true.  His name's Christopher Solomon, he's a freelance journalist, and if you click on his name back there you can read more of his stuff from Outside and so forth.  There's at least an hour's worth of class-time killing excellent writing there.  And if you haven't read the Killian article, 1) you really do have to, and 2) you obviously don't love Killian as much as you should yet. 

2)  I'll mention Glenn Tachiyama again below, but the other day on Facebook he posted a beautiful, life-affirming video produced by Duct Tape Then Beer.  I don't know who those guys are, but they make amazing web media out of Seattle for Arc'teryx and other companies.  I've only watched a couple of their videos at this point, but they're the kinds of things that make you want to drop your laptop, walk out of class and head to the mountains.  Watch this!:

35 from ARC'TERYX on Vimeo.


3) Along with running 200 miles at a time, and circumnavigating Mt Rainier twice in a row in one push, Ras Tafari makes running at the back of the pack seem cooler than winning races.  He and Kathy Vaughan are two of the best people you'll meet.  They have a great blog at Ultrapedestrian.com, and I love that they're putting together a podcast now.  The first one is here, and it highlights some of the most interesting people and events in WA ultrarunning this year, including Stacey Nievweija's amazing 173 mile solo road run between Vancouver and Seattle in February. 

4) The best photographer in all of trail running-dom is of course Glenn Tachiyama, and we're super lucky to have him taking pictures of us at our local races for free.  He's an amazing guy, an amazing runner in his own right, and one of the real stars of the local trail scene.  You can view and/or buy his pictures online - and you should, of course: Glenn Tachiyama Photography.

5) Jenn Hughes is a single mom who started her own successful, innovative, women's clothing business and runs 100 mile ultramarathons and week long stage races through the desert.  No big deal.  She also has one of the best blogs I've found (it's aimed mainly at a female audience, but then again so is Better Homes and Gardens, but that doesn't stop me from reading).  She's the epitome of strong, beautiful trail running women.  Buy her clothes, but first read her blog at Run Pretty Far

6) Erin Earle started a blog at the beginning of this year, and it's been consistently amazing!  She weaves together life and running in really thoughtful and beautiful ways, and you should really check it out if you haven't yet: sakura blooms. 


7)  I don't really know Trey Bailey, but he seems to be good buddies with some of the best runners in the state, has an epic mustache/hair combination, posted naked pictures of himself on Facebook, and won last month's Editor's Choice award on Trail Runner Magazine's Blog Symposium for one of his posts on UphillRunning.com.

8) The Seattle Running Club has a nice site and blog in its own right, but the Shoeless Joe Interviews really are my favorite.  Professional quality journalism, interviewing top runners on the local and national scene.  All of Joe's questions are stupid, but I think his piece with Uli Steidl might be my favorite interview ever that wasn't on a Zach Galifianakis "Between Two Ferns" episode.  His most recent entry with Jodee Adams-Moore may be, I think, genuinely notable.  He pulled an ultrarunning journalistic coup by scoring the first substantial interview with a runner who seems to be on the front end of her career, and who has the potential to compete at the highest levels.  It's super long, deep and personal in a roundabout way, and manages to be consistently entertaining.    

9) This veers away somewhat from my emphasis on blogs with a primarily creative focus, but The Seattle Mountain Running Group site is singularly cool.  It blends race reports and trip planning tips with more personal elements like gear sharing and philosophical reflections to create a great little hub for the trail running community in this area.  Their Facebook group has been a major catalyst for growth in the trail running community in the Seattle area, and really Western WA as a whole, and I'd be remiss if I didn't include them.   

Gorge Waterfalls '50K'

It's been over a week, which is longer than I like to wait before writing a race report (my thoughts get stale after a day or two if they aren't refrigerated), and I'm tired after a long day of driving and running so I"m prone to writing nonsense, but what the hey?  I've said before that this blog will publish anything, and it's as true today as it was then.

At the beginning of the year, I decided that I wanted to focus on running primarily WA's classic ultras in 2013.  Like most of my New Year's resolutions though, after about a month I gave up on that idea. "Screw it", I thought, "I'm just going to run a bunch of Rainshadow races again".  I ran Chuckanut, and I'm on the waitlist for Cascade Crest, but other than that James Varner is pretty much setting my racing schedule this year - Orcas in February, Gorge Waterfalls last week, volunteering at Yakima Skyline Rim in a couple weeks (and previewing the course today), Sun Mountain in May, El Camino de Santiago 800k in June (just kidding on that one - that one's put on by the bones of St. James - no relation to Varner, I think). Rainshadow races just end up being more precisely what I want my running experiences to be - the toughest grunts in the prettiest locations, followed immediately by a bunch of food and beer with good people, all produced without pretense.

In my one year of trail running experience, I've already done five Rainshadow races: Yakima Skyline Rim, Angel's Staircase, Deception Pass, Orcas Island, and Gorge Waterfalls.  If I were to give out high school superlatives to those races (and why wouldn't I?) they would be: Yakima - "Most Athletic",  Angel's Staircase - "Best Features", Deception Pass - "Most Friendly", Orcas Island - "Most Popular", and Gorge Waterfalls would probably be "Most Likely to Succeed".  It's only been around for three years, but it has drawn some of the most competitive fields of all the Rainshadow events (and the biggest name racers - Max King has the course record, and Hal Koerner was there this year - allowing Angel a treasured opportunity to flirt shamelessly: "If you ever need a place to stay in Seattle...").  And the race, which has a bigger field than some of their others, sells out in about an hour.  It's an amazing course, but my theory is that a big part of their success has to do with location.  It's in Oregon in the Columbia River Gorge (it starts really close to Multnomah Falls), so is super close to Portland and is reasonably accessible for both Washington and Oregon runners.  I'm happy about that - Orcas seems to be a relatively high profile/well-known 50k, but it's great to see another one of James' events becoming important in the trail running world, because it draws attention to the fantastic job he's doing putting together races that are, in my opinion, better than other races.

Also in my opinion, if we're gauging just by this year's course, Gorge Waterfalls is actually one of the less Rainshadow-y of Rainshadow's races.  There's about 6000 feet of climbing, which is on the low side for one of their events, about 7-8 miles were on blacktop including about 10k on a road in the middle and a couple miles of paved trail going up and down Multnomah Falls, it's mostly run on heavily trafficked trails, and the course was actually significantly shorter than 31 miles.  Varner miles are supposed to be longer than normal miles!

Having said that, it's undeniably a great race, for the following reasons: 1) By my count, there were literally a gazillion waterfalls on the course, including the awe-inspiring Elowah Falls at the turnaround and Ponytail Falls that you actually ran behind a couple of times, allowing Glenn Tachiyama to take awesome photos of you getting passed by some guy who has at least 10 years on you.  2) By my count, there were literally a gazillion parties associated with the event - so many parties!  They hosted the first (of hopefully many) Trail Running Film Festival the night before at McMenamin's Edgefield, had free local microbrews and fresh pizza cooked on this amazing stone oven pizza trailer after the race, and then had another party at the Edgefield where their signature old-timey band, The Pine Hearts, played around a fire.  We had perfect weather for the race - 70 and sunny! - which made it a lot more fun to hang outside and drink for the post-race festivities.  3) The short course and glut of blacktop made me feel like I was so fast!  I ran a 4:34 50k (that was only 26 - 27 miles long)!  

All joking aside, the run did actually go well for me, at least as far as time and placing goes.  I didn't expect much because I raced Chuckanut 2 weeks before and only ran once during the week prior to Gorge, so I started slow, not really trying to work my way up in the pack in any intentional way.  Not expecting much and starting slow have historically been the key to success for me though, because I think I tend to run by feel more that way, rather than trying to establish a place in the pack and blowing up, or trying to follow some half-baked race strategy that doesn't work.  It's hard to really figure out whether my time was good for the course, because I don't know the actual distance, but I did finish ahead of a lot of people who usually beat me handily, and I mostly kept up with my friend Adam Gaston - who usually destroys me and who'd been tapering for this race since last September.  Based on that, I think I continued my string of solid races since turning in a stinker at Deception Pass in December.  It was very much a "slow and steady wins the race" approach for me - I started out probably in the back third of the pack for the first major climb, and didn't really start picking people off until about a third of the way in when I settled in with Adam and basically used him as a pacer.  He gave me a great tip at Baker Lake - if you want to run faster races, just find people you know are faster than you and stay with them.  That was actually kind of my strategy.  He dropped me during the last mile or two when my stupid legs started to cramp, but for the most part it worked.  Next race I'm just going to look at the favorite on Ultrasignup and run with them.

In terms of how I felt, this one actually didn't go that well for me.  I'm not sure if it was the heat, a faster pace, my decision not to take electrolyte tabs, the lack of one of my normal key foods - potatoes and salt - on the course, or lack of running during the week, but I cramped more on this race than maybe any other I've run since my first marathon 2 years ago.  It started up in my legs at about mile 17 - 18, and shifted intermittently between muscle groups for the rest of the race - calves, hamstrings, groin (which has never happened before), glutes.  It was worst on the final downhill on a busy trail near Multnomah Falls, to the point that my foot was stuck in a constant flexed position due to calf cramping and I had to hobble along, cursing under my breath, offending grandmothers and scaring small children.  I don't usually run through cramping, but this time I told my calves that I hated them and was going to hurt them, and I forced myself to keep running and eventually it let up for the most part.  I was pretty beat at the end of the race, and I've had a rough recovery this week.  It took a couple days longer than normal to feel like I had my legs back, and I was in a really bad mood for most of the week.  (That could be partly because it was my first week back to school after spring break though.)  Don't worry though.  I seem to be better now.

Among the real runners, it seemed to have been a relatively fast race.  Christopher Kollar from Montana finished 3 minutes off of the course record set by Max King on the same route last year, finishing in 3:22, ahead of some obviously fast guy named James Bonnett from Arizona and a bunch of notable PNWers - Zach Violett, Ian Sharman, Yassine Diboun, Jeff Browning, Jonathan Heinz, Jason Leman and Hal Koerner.  I include the whole list basically because, man, Oregon has a strong racing scene right now.   Among women, 11 of the first 12 women were also locals, including Stephanie Howe, who got second at the North Face 50 mile championships this year, and who destroyed her own previous course record by 18 minutes, finishing in 3:49, ahead of Catrin Jones, an Arc'teryx athlete and killer marathoner from Victoria.  And hey!  I just noticed that my friend Shamai Larsen finished 9th overall!  Nice showing Shamai.