I would say training is going well, but I’m not sure that’s true. I’ve been active, but I knew these past two weeks were not going to follow a schedule so whatever that means for progress I’m willing to live with.

Totals for last week: bike 70 miles, run about 2 hours, swim 1 hour.

Instead of routine we’ve been in Southern Utah hiking and camping, so that’s what this post is mostly about.

Great Basin National Park

We drove out Hwy 50, “America’s loneliest Road” through Nevada, stopping along the way only for lunch, gas and a chocolate malt in the cute but run down old school American Hwy towns. Just before the Utah border we stopped at Great Basin National Park and camped for the night. The campground had only just opened and patches of snow still lay about. It was freezing during the night, maybe mid-20s, and by morning I was accused of stealing a blanket from my daughter. I deny it.

(Great Basin National Park)

We had a lazy and slow beginning to the next morning as we sat around the fire and warmed ourselves up. Luck went our way when we finally got moving and turned up at the visitor’s center and got invited to join a 10am tour of the caves. We’d called the day before and the tours were sadly full, but this tour was just added that morning. That set the tone of continued good luck throughout this trip.

The tour itself was great and both Patty and I saw a lot more of the caves than we had on previous visits and Kelly loves that kind of thing.

Capitol Reef National Park

Our first stop in southern Utah was Capitol Reef, one of our favorite places.

Here’s some photos of the run Patty and I did on Monday morning there: from the campsite up to the Fremont River Overlook. With the altitude it was a pretty hard run, I’m not sure I’ve breathed so hard since I was in high school (Strava).

(Running in Capitol Reef)

After running we took the scenic drive and stopped at Capitol Canyon and walked to “the tanks”. It was a short hot walk, but the tanks themselves were cool. A series of rock pools that were mostly dry. I’d like to see them filled and flowing from one to the other.

(Capitol Canyon)

We camped on the grass in the walk-in section of the main park campground which was a nice location. Unfortunately someone else was listening to (perhaps) 1950s sitcoms until 1am in their tent (?!). There’s always someone to ruin a night’s sleep.

(Capitol Reef)

San Rafael Fold

Our next destination was the San Rafael fold directly north of the Goblins State Park. The park itself is nothing very exciting, kind of overrun with kids and dogs, and the people who work at the entrance station are some of the most unfriendly and unhelpful people we’ve come across (three separate encounters). Our focus was instead to the north in the BLM land where we dispersal camped and then hiked the Little Wild Horse slot canyon loop.

(Camping near Temple Mountain)

For me the hike was the highlight of the trip, with miles of slot canyons to walk through. Sometime we need to go back and explore this area more.

(Little Wild Horse Canyon)

It took us 3hrs 45 mins to complete the 8 mile hike. Kelly really enjoyed this, not a single complaint was heard though I think she was pretty happy to be done and guzzling an ice cold coke we had in the cooler for just such an occasion.

Moab

To break up the camping we stayed Tuesday night in Moab at a rather unexciting motel, but didn’t really spend a lot of time in the town itself. Wednesday morning I got up and went swimming and knocked out about 2500yds in probably the nicest pool I’ve ever been in at the brand new Moab Rec Center. Huge windows face out towards the red rock cliffs lit up by the rising sun, reflecting the light all across the pool surface. It’s going to be hard to face the Y this week. The swimming itself seemed a little bit of a struggle at the higher altitude but I also eventually realized the pool was 25m not yards, so I wasn’t going as slow as I feared. At least I think it was 25m!

After that Patty and I took turns running and discovered a river road heading south along the Colorado River (Strava). I had to stop and take this picture and contemplate how I can move to Moab and do runs and swims like this all the time. Still working on that plan without much forward progress.

(Running along the Colorado River)

On the way out of town we stopped and walked up the Mill Creek trail to a local swimming hole. It was a hot day but we didn’t see any swimming going on. We made Kelly a deal that if she jumped off a rock into the creek we’d buy her a sushi dinner. She took the bet so I guess sushi is in the near future. She deserved one anyway for the hike the day before, but she was so uncomplaining I never even got to use that carrot.

Canyonlands National Park

We made our way down the Canyonlands as the winds picked up. By the time we got there the winds were gusting up the 50 miles and hour. We decided to camp anyway and it worked out okay even if it was kind of a noisy night and dust and sand would occasionally whip up under the fly and shower down on us.

(Camping just outside of Canyonlands)

The next day it was calmer but thunderstorms were rolling through the area. Our original plan was some 4WD fun up Salt Creek with some side hiking, but it turned out that the Salt Creek drive was impassable, so instead we set out for a 10+ mile hike around a loop within Needles, up Big Spring and back on Elephant Canyon. This was some hard hiking for 10 miles, constantly climbing between canyons, through cracks, over obstacles, and even two ladders. It took us just over 6 hours to finish and we experienced it all: sun, rain, wind and hail and a lot of spectacular rock along the way. In the end both Patty and I were pretty much exhausted, not to mention our poor daughter. She had a few dark moments in the middle, but she pulled through on what was certainly her hardest hike to date.

(Hiking in Needles)

(Kelly says 10 miles)

Trip home

After another night in Canyonlands we headed back home via Natural Bridges National Monument (where we just drove the scenic road), and a long trip through Navajo country to Flagstaff. The next morning we continued in a snow storm back west and made it home is a rather epic drive.

Complete set of photos here.

Sawtooth Mountains in Idaho

Driving out to Boise

Relaxing in Boise

Sawtooth Mountains

Craters of the Moon

Back in Boise

As we drove to Death Valley down the central valley an incoming email buzzed my iPhone. It was from AdventureCORPs. Prediction for the weekend was for near freezing conditions and possibly rain and snow. The email began with “I’m not trying to scare anyone…” But we were scared. We signed up for this ride as a way to motivate us to continue riding though the winter, but still we struggled with the weather. It remains somewhat a mystery how you ride and stay warm, dry and comfortable. But we had overcoming things which previously scared us though: we could now set out in the rain and not be totally in fear. While we’d come a ways, a bad weather century ride was something we weren’t fully prepared for, mentally or physically.

My fitness on the bike seemed to have come around so I was looking forward to a fast ride. We did a couple of 70+ mile rides and a collection of 50 mile rides. In our last ride we threw in a climb at the half way mark that set a new 30 min power record for me (one not on a trainer at least), and that was after hours of riding. That’s not to say I’ve suddenly become a great cyclist, but signs we there that we’d improved. I felt ready for anything. Well anything except bad weather.

Death Valley is one of our favorite places. It’s also the scene of most of our great outdoor disasters. The place has a way to take a toll on man and his equipment. There was the time when we ripped two 4WD tires apart up some jeep trail and ended up dragging the backend of the car miles, followed by hitchhiking through the night. I still think of that trip fondly, especially the part where it also started to snow. Another time a storm came though so hard it broke a pole on our 4 season tent and launched it way up a canyon, completely destroying it. That was fun too.

Thursday night we camped up Echo Canyon, the same place as the tent disaster. It’s a beautiful place when it’s not destroying things. Behind you is a slot canyon that you can drive up to reach a set of mine ruins to explore. In front of you the scene drops 1600ft to the Death Valley floor and then rises 11,000 ft up into the snow covered Panamint range.

Camping at Echo Canyon in Death Valley

Friday morning started still. The sun rise hit the mountains cycling them through a range of pinks and purples and oranges. Even Kelly enjoyed the view. Later in the morning, with Kelly’s Grandfather (Patty’s father) in tow, we headed up the canyon to check out the mines.

Inyo Mine

In the afternoon we drove the course to check out the climb and by evening the wind had really picked up, especially at Furnace Creek. By the time we headed over for the AdventureCORPs Yoga the wind was blowing so hard it was difficult to even walk in the RV park. All you could do was laugh it was blowing so hard. We knew they’d run the ride regardless, but we couldn’t imagine riding in that kind of wind. The Yoga turned out to be fun though as we huddled in the shelter behind the buildings there and the event organizer led us through a yoga routine yelling above the wind.

Corps Yoga the night before the ride (Photo: AdventureCORPs)

Instead of camping we cleared out the back of the car and slept in there parked in the same site as Patty’s parents. It wasn’t the best nights sleep listening to the wind and feeling the car being buffeted around. Hope for even going for a ride was fading but the morning brought workable weather, it seemed. It wasn’t too cold, it wasn’t raining or snowing and the wind was nothing like the night before. The ride was a go and optimism filled the air.

Furnace Creek to Badwater

Distance: 17.3 miles
Time: 1hrs 52min
Power: 156 avg, 169 NP (graph)

The second wave was ready to head off as we circled behind the group so we decided to head off with them. The pace was easy as we headed uphill from Furnace Creek towards the intersection with Badwater Rd. I was feeling the pace was a little too easy and went by a few people with Patty following behind me.

As we reached the top we turned towards Badwater, about 17 miles away. I instinctively changed up to my big ring and thought we’d be off but I then noticed a problem. We’d just turned into a stiff headwind. The usual still mornings in Death Valley were not working that way this morning. The wind was blowing strong from the South and the next 40 or so miles of the course were directly down the valley, south, with no shelter. Just one big wind tunnel. Of course it took a while to think in those terms, for the moment I changed back down gears and started to slog it out.

We were averaging about 10 miles per hour. Long gradual climbs became 6 mile/hr 200+ watts. It was equivalent in effort to real climbing but yet they looked almost flat. Wind is the unseen enemy. Finally a top would appear and I’d barely change out of my lowest gear as I pushed on down the hill at maybe 11 or 12 miles/hr.

At 1 hour in Patty and I stopped and ate a Gu each. Patty was having trouble drinking because she needed both hands on her handlebars in order to not be thrown off into the desert as the wind shifted around. She took in a little fluid and I was glad for my aero bottle although I was having trouble being on the aerobars in the wind as well. Here we ran into Patty’s father and Kelly for the first time. They asked if we were ok, beginning a trend of theirs of turning up while we were stopped somewhere. We handed off our warm gloves since the cold wasn’t going to be our problem today at least.

Occasionally we’d be overtaken by some riders from the third wave. One group went by in a pace line and while I couldn’t catch the back of them the trailing riders seemed to be getting a good break. I had nobody ahead of me to break the wind and it was brutal. One guy who went by chatted for a bit. We agreed how demoralizing making such slow progress was. Moving forward like that, with vast distances ahead in the wide open desert floor and making 10 miles/hr progress was hard to weigh against how far we had to ride. It seemed hard to imaging pushing into the wind for more than 40 miles, then doing the climb, and then riding back. Even the thought of the returning tailwind didn’t make it seem possible, we wouldn’t even make the cutoffs. How many hours till the turnaround? Five? Six? Instead of that I found comfort in my power meter. I settled on trying to ride around 150 watts, keeping under 200 for the tough bits, figuring I had a long way ahead of me. The most important thing was that I could see I was doing something as the miles came so slow.

I pulled into Badwater a few minutes ahead of Patty. Nobody there seemed to know what the deal was with the cutoffs. We were already an hour late and the day was young. We ate a little food but forgot to fill our water bottles. In my mind I’d not recalibrated the next aid station distance to take into account the slow speed we were moving at.

Badwater to Ashford Mills

Distance: 27.4 miles
Time: 3hrs 50min
Power: 136 avg, 148 NP (graph)

Back on the road and it was more of the same. I slowly pushed myself past a guy and said “are we having fun yet?” “Oh God Yes!” he replied. Patty told me she’d decided to make it a metric century and turn back at 30 miles, or the mile 29 mile marker along the road. I told her to sit behind me and I’d pull her, but it didn’t help, she fell off my back wheel and was gone again. The people on the course were now quite spread out, but usually I could see someone a ways ahead. The vastness was a little overwhelming, such a small bike in such a big place, in such awful conditions. I saw little choice but to keep pushing forward. The road through this section was more or less flat, but would wander out towards the center of the valley and back following the coast line of the ancient lake. The wind grew worse out the further towards the center of the valley you got, or was plagued with cross winds, and at times I was barely moving. For a moment I actually longed to be closer to the valley’s side walls for the ‘relief’ of a steady 20 miles/hr straight-into-the-face wind to deal with.

I stopped a couple of times to wait for Patty, once a little before the mile 29 marker and then again at the marker. Eventually she came into view and looked broken. She was ready to go back but I decided I would keep going at least until the Ashford Mills aid station. The assumption was, of course, that the ride back wouldn’t be so bad. I’d come a long way to ride and complete this century, and trained all winter. That’s a lot of traffic lights on the road out of Danville, freezing mornings where we hardly saw another cyclist all day, my awesome run of flat tires… We’d convinced Patty’s parents to drive down there and look after our daughter so we could do this. I wasn’t feeling like giving up even though I knew deep down all my energy was blowing away in the wind and I may not have it in me to get back. This was uncharted territory for my endurance.

Patty at Mile 30

We said good bye with a hug and we headed in different directions. Back to my 150-160 watts, back to very slow progress. I started to pass some people, clearly anyone around me was starting to fade. I ran out of water too as hours went by. And running out of liquid also meant I was not getting the calories I was counting on but I wasn’t thinking too clearly either because I could have compensated with the Gus I was carrying. My heart rate was also up though this section as the terrain became more hilly and my vision was vaguely blurry.

Eventually I rode into Ashford Mills, almost 4 hours after leaving Badwater, and was seriously close to being done.

Ashford Mills aid station (Photo: AdventureCORPs)

Expensive bikes and people lay on the ground not moving anywhere. Nobody’s race wheels were helping them too much today but there sure was some good looking bikes lying in the sand. Patty’s father and Kelly turned up just after I arrived. They said Patty had ‘flown’ back to Badwater on the tail wind. That sounded good, perhaps I could do this. My spirits lifted. Then again I was beat and still had a 1300ft climb to do before even the turnaround. Kelly said I should do it. After they left I decided to give it a try.

Climb to Jubilee Pass and back to Ashford Mills

Distance: 12.6 miles
Time: 1hr 15min
Power: 120 avg, 159 NP (the climb was 168 avg, 177 NP) (graph)

As I headed out the wind was actually still for the first time as the 6% climb ran perpendicular to the valley. It wasn’t as bad as I imagined it, averaging about 180 watts in my lowest gear. Unlike the wind I could see my goal and measure my energy against the visible obstacle. Interestingly, it really didn’t feel too much worse on my legs than the previous 5 hours and it was quite easy to settle in. I stopped a couple of times because I thought it seemed like a good idea to take it a little conservatively, but before long I reached the top. I felt a moment of victory. I’d been on the bike so long, but was only at the 52 mile turnaround. It was 1:30pm, over 6.5 hours after the start and over 5.5 hours of ride time.

Arriving at the turn around point (Photo: AdventureCORPs)

The organizer took my bib number and a photo of me. He thanked me for coming so far out on the course. I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, probably that I should have given up long ago. I took a moment, clipped in, and headed back down the hill. There was a certain amount of head wind on the descent but I mostly coasted to save energy and regretted giving my Jacket to Patty’s parents. It was cold, but the scenery was was worth the climb as I looked down into the valley and the clouds and light moving in across the mountains. I still wasn’t sure I had another 50 miles in me, 40 by the time I got back down to Ashford Mills, but if the weather cooperated I might make it back before the 10 hour cutoff.

The turn around at the pass

Back at Ashford Mills I grabbed food, some water and used the port-a-potty, but didn’t stay long this time, I needed to get moving. As I clipped in the aid station people were talking over the radio, asking if it was raining at furnace creek. No, they said, it was dust, and the wind was coming from the north. THE NORTH??!! A grown went though the aid station. I was looking a 40 miles of riding north to get back to Furnace Creek. My response? Denial. I peddled off.

Ashford Mills to the end

Distance: 13.2 miles
Time: 1hr 03min
Power: 124 avg, 143 NP (graph)

For the next six miles I flew, carried along by a glorious tailwind. I sat at 20-24 miles/hr on the flats, 30+ mile/hr on the downhills without even pushing hard. I remembered for a moment that biking could be fun. I started to think I’d be back in a couple of hours at this rate and that my decision to continue to the turn around point was the right one. Life was good. But that was crazy thinking and altogether short lived. Up the valley the salt flats and sky ominously merged into a dark wall that looked a like a mix of rain and dust, maybe. Still, I hoped I could get somewhere near to Furnace Creek before I hit that or any wind change.

The Wall of Doom (Photo: AdventureCORPs)

It was not to be. Within a moment my tail wind turned to head wind. It was like hitting a wall. I was still 35 miles out and my speed was down to 6 miles/hr and power back over 160 watts. I was a little surprised that my trashed legs were still cooperating, but it didn’t make it any easier. All that energy going into the pedals and 6 miles/hr coming out. I had my head down watching the white line, I watched little pebbles come by so slowly, one painful pedal stroke after another. Then I’d look up at the vast expanse ahead and feel crushed. It was a mental game and in this section I was losing.

My carbopro mix was also a little messed up so I stopped for a moment and poured some of it out and mixed it down with water. It gave me a moment to stand there and contemplate what I was going to do. Make it to Badwater, then hope I could get a headlamp from someone? Hope Patty came looking for me? Sit down right here and cry? All valid options. Shortly after that a strong looking rider came by me, slowly. I said hi but he didn’t say anything back. I though he might be just unfriendly but I now think he was just too deep in his own misery. In my mind I imagined every one else doing so well, cutting though the wind with effortless ease, success being the only option. Most of them were already back at Furnace creek celebrating a fine day out.

When Badwater seemed too far away I refocused on getting to the 29 mile marker (30 miles from the finish) where Patty and I had said goodbye. Some part of me expected she’d still be there and the idea gave me a little comfort.

I neither made it to Badwater nor even the mile 29 marker. In the end some riders ahead of me waved down the Timing company’s pickup truck and started to load their bikes in the back. I rode towards them but didn’t hurry. I wasn’t sure what to do and was hoping it would drive away so I didn’t have to think about it. The strong looking guy also pulled over and started to load his bike on too. I guess a way home had just handed itself to me and it seemed the obvious thing to take the ride too. I was 71 miles into my ride and my day was done.

Montana Timing Saves the Day! (Photo: AdventureCORPs)

The scene back to Furnace Creek was devastation. The organizers were sending out SAG vehicles to collect people and random cars were also bringing riders back home. We were full but riders tried to wave us down. Those still moving were all over the road, not caring. People had stopped in the middle of nowhere and just sat down with their bikes unable to go on. Others were slumped over their handlebars. Many riders had already left the course. Many had called an end to it at Badwater, the scene there was littered with riders who couldn’t make it back the final 18 miles.

In the end the majority of the 400 who signed up DNFd (or DNS.) The results show about 100 finishers in all the distances out of the 400 entrants. What I didn’t know was that the organizers extended the cutoffs so people who finished into the night got an official time. My assumption was that I wouldn’t get a time and be recognized as a finisher even if I made it back and that certainly weighed into my decision to take a ride. If the original 5pm time had still applied only about 20 riders of the century would have finished.

Hats off to anyone who made it back though and the amazing ultra-century and double century riders who finished on such a rough day.

Patty and I eventually reunited after she failed to find me on the course. She had not made it back to the finish line either having hit the wind direction change earlier in the day just past Badwater. After struggling for a while her parents came by and she called it a day and took the ride back with them. She was 50 miles into her ride.

Overall stats

Distance: 71.14 miles
Time: 6hrs 59min (8hrs 13 min total)
Power: 136 watts avg, 354 watts max, 156 watts NP
Graph: HR, Power, Speed vs Time
–

We didn’t hang out long, just enough time to get some pizza. The weather had become drizzly and night was coming. We left and drove out of the park and through to Ridgecrest for the night then home the next day. All in all it was sort of a disaster and an adventure at the same time. I’ve clearly arrived at a better level of endurance but still, after training all winter we were disappointed at how the day played out and that we couldn’t have made it through the whole course together.

Setting out for my ride

Unfortunately it wasn’t all downhill. Turns out I also did 1200 ft of climbing. Anyway, I’m definitely feeling stronger on the bike. Two months until Boise.

More photos of our Death Valley trip are here.

On Sunday we took part in, and completed, the Big Sur International Marathon. This was our second marathon, and, what a difference 9 months makes.

Anyone who knows anything about this marathon knows two things:
1) it is often considered the most beautiful marathon in the country.
2) it is one of the hardest marathons in the country.

These two factors seem to be appealing to us, though it might take some soul searching to figure out our attraction to more and more difficult goals of completion rather than picking something easier and doing better. This is the kind of thing that is drawing us closer to the ultra marathoning world and further away from the flat course optimum speed marathons.

I think the reason for this is probably a combination of not being naturally fast, our desire to run our races together, and our past life hiking these same trails that we now run. We seem to be in it for the challenge of completion and the beauty of the journey. Perhaps speed will come, (and I’ll come back to that in another post), but for this marathon, again, completing it was the goal, enjoying the course was paramount, and a sense that we did well and ran strong for our current abilities in the face of adversity important.

However, I was also asked several times about what time I wanted to run. Since Big Sur is said to be 20 minutes or more slower than other marathons I said if I could PR (against my other injury plagued first marathon), or break 5 hours, then that would be complete success. With the six hour time limit and the prospect of more hill running than I’d ever done, I imagined a scenario where I could only walk uphill, limp downhill and generally walk aimlessly for hours until I was either pulled from the course for taking more than 6 hours or preemptively leaped into the Pacific Ocean. I hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but couldn’t discount it completely as I truly wasn’t certain my body was ready for this.

Finally the time had arrived. My parents were visiting from Australia and my parents-in-law took on Kelly early Saturday morning while we packed up and drove south the 2 hours to Monterey. Our pack list filled all the space of a notepad page, imagining hot or cold race conditions, cold start with warm finish (note: buy throwaway gloves at expo), cold waiting for bus (what if they have run out of TP? camera?) , post race needs (what if we need to stitch our own arm back on?), if we had our car nearby, or not, what to bring to eat (what? 8 packets of Gu??), what to buy down there (pasta place reservation?) etc. We had a surprisingly complicated checklist for what should require a pair of shoes and some sunscreen.

EXPO

Down at the expo we picked up our race numbers and chips and then shopped for a while. I came away with $80 of Big Sur branded (mostly Asics) gear, so really hoped I’d finish, and also a signed copy of Bart Yasso’s new book. He’s the chief running officer at Runner’s World and maybe the nicest most interesting guy in running. He also has a quoted as saying that if he could run one marathon he’d make it Big Sur. How can you not like the guy?

I asked him about running the course and he said to negative split it, that although the second half in hilly, it’s a net downhill and to save yourself in the first half and use the energy to work the downhills in the second half.

Later in the day we saw Jeff Galloway talk. Now here’s my problem: I’m a runner. I’m a sucky runner, but still a runner. That means, I run. I don’t walk. Walking is not the challenge running is. On the other hand, I’d rather make it through an event strong than ‘run’ hard the first half and then implode at mile 18. So, we listened to him answer questions about his walk running, the strategy of dropping the walk run ratio down to 1:1 or 1:2 on the hills, and other Galloway wisdom and by the end we both thought for this race it could be worth a shot. For this kind of course, where the ups and down were going to make energy conservation critical, we thought it couldn’t hurt. We’d keep our planned pace, but we’d do some walking.

RACE PLAN

So we formed a race plan over our spaghetti and marinara that evening, largely formed off advice we picked up at the expo:

1. We’d use 4:1 run/walk ratio. This was very different from any walk/running we’d done before (mostly either walk through the aid stations only, or walk 1 min every mile). When the time hit a 5 min mark, we’d walk a minute then run again. We’d do that until Hurricane Point (a 2 mile climb starting at mile 10) where we’d do 2:1 (run 2 min, walk 1) to get to the top. If the going got tough later on we’d do 2:1 and then 1:1 until we completed the course.
2. We’d run 11 min/mile average pace until the hill. After that we’d do the best we could for the last half.
3. If Jeff Galloway ran by us (pacing for a 5 hour finish), we’d run with him.
4. Eat a Gu shot 15 minutes before the race and every 45 mins on course
5. Run down hills with caution, don’t brake, shuffle. Save the quads!
6. Drink a cup of water at every aid station.

RACE

We spent the night in Salinas, CA, about 30 minutes of iceburg lettuce fields east of Monterey. Set alarm for 2:45am, woke up at 2:30 and made coffee. Yes, 2:30am. It was vomit inducing. I put on my race t-shirt and shorts. Stuffed an iPod shuffle deep into a pocket in case the going got tough. Added 8 Gus. Yum. Over that I layered a long sleave shirt. Over that stuff, a pair of fuzzy pants and a fleece. We grabbed our stuff and headed back to Monterey. Outside it was warm, already. I knew I wouldn’t need my fleece.

We parked in a garage and boarded the school buses for the start line. It took more than an hour to wind their way down the coast in the dark. Half the people on the bus were talking loudly to each other, nervously telling strangers about their lives, while the other half stayed quiet, silently knowing what lay ahead, that perhaps by the time that made it back to the finish line hours later they might be changed forever. That makes some people disappear into themselves while others cover it up with apparent mindlessness.

The area where we started was filled with people already. It was good people watching. There were people doing push ups. There was much personal grooming. That a large number of people still run in cotton socks was an interesting fact. After a final trip to the port-a-potties we headed to our start spot on the road. A lone bagpiper played nearby. Once in position, it wasn’t long before the national anthem was sung and the doves released. I’m not kidding. The gun fired and (3 minutes later) we were off. This is the point when you wonder how you got yourself into this again. Too late though, there’s only one way back home. Start running.

For the first couple of miles it was hard to settle into anything, and walk breaking was difficult for fear of being run down. But we did it. Patty took charge of calling ’5 seconds’. In 5 seconds we’d try to find some road shoulder to walk on. Way before 60 seconds we were itching to start running. But we held steady. Slow now will get us there faster later. Don’t worry about the people running by. Stay on the plan.

We ran through redwoods towards the coast. Some kids were out now to watch us and the sun was out. It was already in the mid-60s and I’d started in just shorts and a t-shirt and never even begun to feel cold. I had a moment of thinking that was a little bad, but perhaps that should have worried me more. It was going to be hot. For now, it was perfect running, looking at the trees and the little streams and campgrounds or two nestled down in between trees. And the running was easy too, so life was good. But hold steady. Our pace settled into an 11:01-11:03 average. Perfectly on plan.

By mile 6 we’d cleared the trees and headed straight towards the coast and the Big Sur lighthouse perched atop a piece of marooned coastline. From there we curved north and started up along the coast. The road climbed slowly past cow fields with the Pacific ocean behind them. Cresting the hill we headed down to sea level and then onto the big climb: Hurricane Point. This hill was approximately 600ft up over 2 miles. It’s work, but it’s very doable and never gets too steep. Both of us felt strong the whole way up. At the top we stopped and posed for pictures (in hurricane force wind), the view was spectacular. People headed up the hill behind us, a trail of runners stretching along the coast in front of us.

Then started our way down. Easy on the quads. Easy. Easy. Easy. At the bottom was the famed bridge that is seen in many photos of the area. It was also 13.1 miles, halfway there. As we ran across the bridge a man was playing a baby grand piano.

Behind Patty the ocean was a deep deep blue. “This is Californian living,” said Patty, “this is why you moved here.” It was magical. And it was living.

We continued on. The next major hill I came too was the first sign of fatigue onset. It wasn’t too bad, but the climb up the Big Bad Boy had taken something out of me that I wasn’t going to get back before the end of the race. It was only going to get worse. The course became a fairly steady stream of climbing and dropping with little which you’d consider flat. Where there were hills, which is to say, everywhere, they had no name, but were still the equal of any heart break hill elsewhere. It was hard running. By mile 18 I was getting tired and my legs and I were having conversations. Our pace average had taken a hit on the big hill (with one mile in there taking 13 minutes), partially recovered on the following downhill (ran some nice sub-10 sections in there) and stabilized at about a 11:12 pace. All in all, the race to mile 20 was pretty good. Why don’t they make races 20 miles long?

I remember at the San Francisco marathon a pace group leader giving the following assessment of running a marathon: run the first 10 with your head (be smart, don’t go too hard), run the second 10 with your legs (it will get harder, use you legs to hold the pace), and run the last 6.2 with your heart. Not long after mile 20 I knew where she was coming from.

Around me the scenery was only more spectacular. Cliff sides we ran along were covered with flowers and dropped spectacularly into intimate little coves that you’d never see from a car. Sea gulls would soar by us against clear blue sky, while a we ran by a musician playing the harp. This is 80 or 90% of the experience of running Big Sur. The beauty of Big Sur far outweighs the challenge. And the two experiences become separate. While your legs can be saying lets stop. We’re done. Your mind can be saying “Hell no, this is living. Let’s keep going. This is fun.”

By mile 23 I was hurting on the uphills. I was tired, there wasn’t too much glycogen left, but largely it was this: I was very dehydrated. My HR was high and I unable to keep it down on the hills. Patty, we need to do 1 minute run, 1 minute walk, okay? What? My HR is 195! You know, like, as though I was sprinting the final 400 yards of a 5k, only we’re doing a 12 min/mile up a hill and there’s still 2 miles to go. I don’t want to blow up here. So we walk-ran up the last few hills and cruised down the final downhills. They still felt good.

Soon we crossed the Carmel bridge and headed into the finish line. People cheered. It was amazing. A life moment. Our chip time was 4 hours, 57 minutes. A 10 minute PR for the two of us.

One of the organizers shook my hand as he placed the hand crafted medal around my neck. “How was it?” he asked with such sincerity. “It was hard” I said. But I felt like it wasn’t a very good answer to his question. It was a momentous spiritual journey that I’ll never forget. And it was hard.

CONCLUSIONS

Well, I’m still digesting this. The race itself was a perfect race for me. We beat our expectations on all levels. Our second half was less than three minutes slower than the first half (and some of that was picture taking). Not quite Bart’s negative split, but I’ll take it.

But there were things to learn from it, as always. Here are some initial thoughts:

Water. Hydration was the big issue. By the time we finished it was in the high 80s. Under those conditions I know I need a lot of water. It seems likely I need more water than I can reasonably take in at an aid station. I either need to practice that, or I need to run with a bottle like I do in training. And then I need to think about sodium intake.

Food. The 100 calories (1 gel) every 45 minutes worked well.

Knees. My knee is still a problem, but my PT and I are working on that. After the race I had someone at the medical tent tape ice onto it. It was borderline annoying during the race approaching ‘pain’ in the final few miles. Ugly afterwards. Back to those exercises.

Walk/Run. This was the brave experiment of this marathon, and I think it works. It doesn’t sit right with me, but at this time and this place it made for a much better (and faster marathon). Being a slave to a watch is not fun either, but being in control of the outcome of your race is. Like they say: walk before you’re forced to.

Hills. Good technique down hills worked really well. The final hill we ran down was our fastest. After 5 hours our quads were still going strong (not as good today!) Something to take forward. We can always be stronger running up hills, but all our trail running certainly helped. We’ll get stronger.

All in all, we had a fantastic time. I haven’t even mentioned how well organized this is too. Everything was perfect for every aspect of this event. Like the half we ran last November this is a class act.

done. running.

We camped there for two nights in perfect camping weather. This run took us a couple of miles up a canyon along a jeep road. It was pretty hard going on the way up as it was uphill and the footing was very loose rocks. On the way down those same rocks were like pillows for our feet to crunch down on.

From Death Valley we headed into Arizona where the temperatures were not as nice. Flagstaff was in single digits and windy when we got up so we decided to pass on our planned run in Buffalo Park. We Northern Californian dwellers are not built for those conditions (or at least lack the right apparel!)

A couple of days later, now in Moab, UT we woke up and, because Kelly was still asleep and we were in a dark motel room, we checked the iPhone to see what the weather was like outside. “28 degrees.” Not bad. A run looked on. “And a chance of snow.” Hmmm. We checked the radar image and a big green and yellow blob hovered over Moab. Double hmmm. I got up and looked out the window. White. Snow. Everywhere.

When Kelly woke up she was pretty excited. She’d never seen snow actually falling before.

We spent the first part of the morning hanging out in a coffee shop and then playing in snow at the local park. While there I noticed how many people were out running! There was even a couple doing intervals across the park’s snowy grass. If they could run, so could I. We went back to the hotel and got changed and then took turns in putting down a 3 mile run.

While I won’t go so far as to say it was really all that nice running into the snow, it was refreshing and something different. Plus, with almost 3000 miles of driving in a week, it got my legs moving.

We left early and the day was already warm in Oakland. We drove east to the town of Davis in the central valley and stopped and had breakfast, then took in some of the farmers market across the road. Kelly rode the old merry-go-round which is powered my someone pedaling! We also watched some hula dancing. The pickings at the market are still slim but we did buy some cheese, bread rolls and slightly too early strawberries there before heading towards the mountains.

Up into the mountains we drove thinking it was too late. In fact there was so little snow that we ended up at Donner Summit, the highest point as I-80 crosses the Sierras, as it was the only area with snow at highway level. With so little snow up in the mountains people around here are now talking about water restrictions this summer. I remember last year people saying there was so much snow pack that there’d not be restrictions for years to come. Ah, easy come easy go.

It turns out, however, that the little snow we found was perfect for what we wanted: some snow play. Usually we head down back roads until we can find a plowed pullout or jeep road. We get out, climb the bank, and make our own fun away from the crowds. At this time of year, even along I-80, there wasn’t any crowds. We parked in a snow play area just below Donner Summit and headed off to find a sled run.

Patty crossed the river first. I stood back uncertain her idea was sound. She prodded the middle of what was admittedly a small stream with a stick and then with hardly a hesitation leaped into ankle deep water and headed upstream along the middle to a place where she could cross the snow bank on the other side. Kelly and I followed, impressed.

The other side was sledding heaven. Someone had built a long chute which we could use. Here’s Patty making a run…

And there were little hills that Kelly improvised her own ‘butt slide’ on…

We built a snow man, of course…

And later, Kelly also went down the main sled run by herself, a first…

We probably stayed for about an hour. The air was warm, there was nobody else there, the sled run was ideal and our snowman rocked. What could be better? So what if we were on the only snow patch in the Sierras!

Our checkout time was noon so we raced back to the hotel to shower and get out of our room around 12:03. We decided to fuel up ourselves and the car before the projected 90 minute drive to Anza Borrego. I had spotted a Chinese restaurant just down from Peet’s so we went there and go broccoli beef and vegetables with tofu. I was having serious vegetable cravings and this did the trick. We fueled the car and hit the highway. The drive out of San Diego was strange-you hit a National Forrest right away and yet there are no trees. Eventually we did some climbing and driving through rolling foothills with large oaks, and then finally hit some dessert.

ANZA-BORREGO

We drove into Borrego Springs and found the visitor center. Behind the counter were a bunch of senior volunteers who didn’t look like they were going to be very useful in helping us figure out where to camp. At some point though I hear this man telling Peter advice about off road driving, here is a great canyon to camp, etc. Apparently this man had been traveling around AB his whole life and had too many recommendations for us even to remember. He came up with once canyon that was just a few miles from the visitor center and since it was nearly 4 and therefore about to get dark, we headed for that.

The drive up to Glorietta canyon was really easy-sandy roads. As we got to the top there were already 2 cars there but on closer inspection, they didn’t look like they were camping so we just looked around and waited. We found a very nice spot off of the road and Kelly started scampering around on the rocks. As it got dark I made some dehydrated stragonoff and we settled in to enjoy the spectacular rising of the full moon over the mountains.

It was a relatively warm night but Kelly was excited to get into the tent (we had been promising her camping for nearly 2 weeks) so she and I retired somewhat early. I woke up early and went out to see the sunrise and watch the moon go down. Again it was warm and pleasant. We had coffee as we sat in our chairs and watched the sun light up the mountains and valley.

BORREGO PALM CANYON

We drove to the VC to wash up a bit and then drove to the Borrego Palm Canyon. There’s a short hike (3 mile round trip) to an oasis up a canyon. It started out well with Kelly scrambling over the rocks as she went. A few hundred yards into it we realized we had forgotten sunscreen and it turned out to be really lucky that I went back to the car for it-the hike lasted a lot longer than we had thought. About halfway through we were having some trouble getting Kelly to keep moving. We had to bribe her with promises of treats, but by about a mile we hit some shade and could see the palm trees so she perked up. The last half mile is along water with some palm trees and she liked that. We had a short break and snack at the end and headed down. Kelly braved the hike down with nearly no complaining at all-in fact she and I ran the last part of it together when I mentioned that there was a Coke waiting for us in the car.

We certainly could have spent more time there-the park is beautiful and we only explored a small amount, but we decided to head to Palm Springs and come back another day. We had lunch in Borrego Springs at a kind of depressing cafe, and hit the road. Kelly napped as we headed to Palm Springs which we entered just as it was getting dark.

PALM SPRINGS

We were a little disoriented but spotted a nice looking Motel 6 and decided to see if they had a room. For $60 including tax we decided to take the bargain-most places in PS didn’t look too cheap.

There was a pool and hot tub at our hotel so we decided to give Kelly a treat and go for a swim. Even the pool was heated to a comfortable warmth which I enjoyed, and a little time in the hot tub was very welcome for both of us. After a quick shower, we went to the Pizza Hut down the road and had pizza. While driving through town earlier, we had seen that there was some big event being set up so we drove up and went for a walk. One of the main roads was closed and full of hundreds of booths of art, food, etc. It was definitely a scene. Later we found out that every Thursday they have this Farmer’s Market type of thing (without the farmers).

CATAVINA

Just before noon we hit Catavina and pulled down a dirt road north of town to get a closer look at the crazy plants and rocks. Kelly had a great time climbing on rocks while Peter and I finally got a close look at the “upside down carrot” trees-the cirio, and the cardon which look like seguaro cacti but are HUGE. There were actually close to a dozen different types of cacti within a few feet of our car-hopefully we can get back and camp here some time.

DRIVE NORTH

We got to El Rosario around 12:30 and eagerly headed to Mama Espinosa’s. This time it was fish tacos for me and Peter and quesadillas for Kelly. Peter and I have agreed that we have never had a fish taco that we really liked before but these were great. We also tried once again for “Mexican coffee” and once again were served “regular” coffee with a pitcher of milk. All of the coffee we have been served has been good but not the special brewed-and-poured-with-steamed-milk “Mexican coffee” that we had read about. Sigh. While at lunch Peter suggested maybe we should just make a run for the border. The idea struck me as pretty appealing-we could be back in the USA that night and at Peet’s SD again the next morning. We agreed to see how it went since we knew we had a few more military check points to go and the first part of the trip had been very slow. On the positive side, once we hit the outskirts of Ensenada we knew that driving at night wasn’t going to be an issue like it was elsewhere in Baja due to the development (lights and the toll highway to Tijuana).

This was actually the emptiest we let the fuel go-getting bolder by the knowledge of where Pemex stations were located for our drive North. We filled up at the station adjacent to Mama Espinosa’s and drove on. We stopped only to switch drivers in San Vicente and when we hit the turnoff for the Bahia San Quintin it was still early so we made the decision to press on. We reached the outskirts of Ensenada just as it was getting dark and drove through a see of shadowy dirt as we made our way into town. While leaving Ensenada the previous week, we had spotted a McDonald’s so we decided to have a break, go to the bathroom, and give Kelly a break before making the final push to the border and whatever it was that we faced there (the “busiest border crossing in the world”). There was a huge new shopping mall with a brand new McD’s, Walmart, Home Dept, etc. We got the Mexican version of a Happy Meal for Kelly (can’t remember the name) and ice cream cones for me and Peter. Kelly finished her nuggets and headed for the climbing structure and made friends with a little Mexican girl there. It was with a little sadness that we got back into the car to exit Mexico. This time through Ensenada we drove past the port area so saw where the big cruise ships land-quite a bit fancier than the part of town we had seen on our first stop there. The toll road to Tijuana was just like driving an American highway-wide with lights, reflectors, etc. so we had not trouble with that night driving. Coming through Tijuana we felt a little nervous but it became obvious when we were getting close to the border-suddenly the cars stopped, nearly all had American (California) plates, and there were people walking on the freeway between cars trying to sell caftans (?) and snacks. After about half an hour we made it to the booth of our lane. The immigration official asked us a few questions and even he was impressed with how far we had come “Guerrero Negro, that’s a long way away”-and he hears answers to that question all day. It was a little strange for me because he Mexican and even had an accent so I kept staring at his uniform to confirm to myself that he was an American immigration official. Once again there was NO sign of any Mexican government presence at all-we were told we needed to surrender our tourist cards when exiting the country but to whom?

We drove on to our previous hotel in San Diego and even though it was empty now it was more expensive than the previous week but in any case it was a welcome sight. We got a room two doors from our previous room and were able to transfer Kelly from the car to her bed without much disturbance (she reported the next day that she didn’t remember it at all). I made a cup of noodles in the microwave and Peter ate a couple of granola bars as we sat in the near darkness and tried to readjust to our by now strange surroundings (i.e. the US).