tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35440849766497388172024-03-14T01:58:47.357-07:00Pirate Girl's Triathlon AdventuresSwashbuckling fun in swim, bike, and run.Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.comBlogger137125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-8871030807652220022012-03-19T22:36:00.000-07:002012-03-19T22:36:39.440-07:00Battle at The CanyonThis battle was not meant to happen. Someone fired the first shot, the other retaliated, and before anyone could blink there was a full on war going down in Sabino Canyon in front of joggers with strollers, tourists, and hikers.<br />
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The weekend before I had just done Tough Mudder and the PF Chang's 1/2 marathon (race reports are forthcoming). I invited The Dark Warrior and The Boulder to the canyon for an easy paced run. I told The Boulder that I'd be going slow because my legs were still fried from the previous weekend. This was the intent until someone decided to throw the glove down.<br />
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We started the run like any other with a 5 minute walk, and then started the run up the first hill. We got into the canyon and the 3 of us chatted as we ran. Nothing is cheery with The DW, so he of course had to start in with the insults, which caused me to shove him at one of the bridge crossings, since he can't swim. He claimed I re-dislocated his shoulder. He then shoves back, but the laws of physics were in his favor and I went flying. I recovered, thanks to my awesome balancing skills. We then hit the climb just past Mile 3. I said, "I'm going to be taking it easy on this climb...I'm feeling Chang's."<br />
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All joking fell to the wayside. My opponent knew of the weakness in my legs and took the advantage. We started the climb and he started to pull a half step ahead. Oh no this was NOT happening! I had no choice but keep up. The pace then drops as we head up the hill shoulder to shoulder. Neither of us is speaking but we both knew what was going down. It was a test before the Surprise 1/2 marathon qualifying race coming up. We climbed up the hill, gasping for air to the point the hikers in front of us turned around and moved out of the way so that they wouldn't get spit on. At this point it was just me and The DW. We had left The Boulder behind for dead. Actually, he was the smarter one out of the 3 of us, opting to run at a reasonable pace. This was MY canyon and I wasn't about to let The DW leave me in the dust on it. He started to drop back. There's a minimum distance to be maintained between runners, and if one slips back out of that range they are officially "dusted." The DW was getting dangerously close to that distance. I wondered if he was cooked before the end of the climb. Turns out he was just drafting and surged forward. "We are idiots" was all I could manage to say in between gasps of breath. After all, we had a race coming up the next weekend.<br />
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We reached the top and looped around waiting for The Boulder to finish the climb up. We apologized to him for our stupidity and headed back down. The return trip was not without more challenges. A few of the bridges were flooded over with water. After the battle up the climb, The DW and I spotted the water and apparently had the same idea and sprinted towards the water. We were both timing the stride so that our outside foot would hit with force and splash the other person. The Boulder was laughing at this scene. All this accomplished was getting one foot more wet than the other.<br />
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As we approached the last climb out of the canyon, The Boulder announced "I'm walking this hill." The DW replied, "Yeah, I'm with you, Ryan." I thought to myself, <em>"I've never walked this hill and I'm not going to start now."</em> We got to the climb and The Boulder dropped back while The DW jumped on my carnival ride and matched my stride up the hill. We sounded like we were hacking up a lung as we ran up the climb at a ridiculous pace, leaving The Boulder for dead again (I will be surprised if he ever agrees to run with us again). The Boulder caught up to us on the downhill, but the shenanigans weren't over. We usually start the cooldown walk at the road crossing. At this point The DW and I sprint to the end, running an 8 minute mile pace. I started overheating even though it was winter, and removed my long sleeved shirt. The Boulder finished his run and we got our Gatorade. I found The DW under the visitor center ramada, carrying his sweatshirt and wandering in circles like a caged animal. Parents taking their kids to the tram ride were avoiding that ramada and keeping the tram between them and him. I had to laugh at the entire scene.<br />
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So that's how running partners turn an innocent recovery run into a battle right before a key race. I must admit I didn't read The DW's point of view before writing this so that I could recount the facts before posting his thoughts on how the battle went down. Just remember, he was probably delirious from lack of oxygen. ;-)<br />
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<strong><span style="color: blue;">Sabino Canyon – "Third Times a Charm ?" or "Thrice Bitten" by The Dark Warrior</span></strong><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">Someone said that "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again; expecting a different result." So why would I go running the canyon with Pirate Girl, again, after the last two horrific episodes ? She said it herself: all her running partners are crazy. That’s the only reason that I can think of that would have the three of us back running the same paths at the same time (yes, even our partner of the infamous Phone Line Trail was back – showing that insanity is contagious). Either it was insanity, we were easily duped. It happened on the heels of Pirate Girl having the lack of grace to have qualified for the ascent before I did. I’m sure that she has bragged about it elsewhere, but she and the other poor dupe had run "Tough Mudder" on Saturday and she then went out and ran PF Chang’s the next day; and qualified, before me. Now the pressure was on. Not that she tried to up the pressure by comments like "guess I’m on the other side of the fence ?" So when she said "I’d like to go on a nice, slow, recovery run up the canyon", I was caught (subtext "nice and slow so that even an old guy can keep up"). I agreed to go, even though I no longer think of those particular paths as part of a canyon; "lair" is the first thing that comes to mind (like the giant spider in "Return of The King"). I expect that someday, they’ll find my and the other guy’s dessicated bodies at the side of the road. "I wonder what killed them ? It looks like a giant Black Widow did this !".</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">The day started out ominously; it was bright and sunny. To my recollection, the worst things happen on days when it is bright and sunny and you run with overly cheerful people – who have just qualified for the race over which you have a challenge going. The first words were a lie "My legs are sore; so let’s go nice and slow " ( like cheetas pursuing their prey). It was cold so I had on what my partner calls my "homeless" attire : this consists of nylon pants, nylon shirt, slightly used sweatshirt (okay, so Salvation Army wouldn’t take it – it’s warm), and jersey gardener’s gloves (contrary to some, the tips of the fingers are not cut out).</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">We started running and the pace was o.k. Until we got to the first place where the stream crosses the road. In the back of my head, there was a little voice shouting "Danger!". Having read pirate girl’s blogs, I remember that, during a Thanksgiving run, she likes to hit the water in order to drench the people around her. And time slowed down. I noticed where her left foot was (being the one closest to me, it would "accidentally" hit in the deepest part of the stream). I lookded to where the stream was (where was the deepest part of the stream ?). I determined how I was going to have to adjust my stride so that my right foot would "accidentally" hit the deepest point. And we were off. Suddenly it was a sprint (like the opening of Best Buy on Black Friday). Obviously the other guy hadn’t read the blogs, or was wearing waterproof clothes; because he continued at a normal pace. It was a tie. In fact, it is a wonder that we didn’t step on each other’s feet. I’d say that she got more wet than I did, but I don’t thing that it is true,. She’s very skinny – have you ever thrown water at the edge of a piece of paper ?</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">So, after the water hazard, we changed positions. I was on the extreme right. I should have wondered about this. As it was I didn’t have time, or the concentration. I was too busy trying to stay on the road after a dastardly push on the shoulder (I think that, in hockey, the term is "chucking"). I have a messed up left shoulder (old war injury from tossing a teen ager into a wall during practice) so I innocently tried to step out in front so that she couldn’t hit it again. This was at the base of the long hill that ends the normal trail in the canyon. So, pirate girl decides to catch up (so she can throw another cheap shot). I decide to speed it up to stay out of the line of fire. You see where this is going ? Pretty soon we are screaming up the canyon (ok rasping and choking). We’re so loud people are moving out of the way and staring. She’s starting to gain on me; two thirds of the way up, she passes. Decision time ; slow down and wait for the other guy (and take a load of BS) or keep up the pace. I know that we are approaching the circle at the top and if she gets too far ahead she’ll get an insurmountable lead. I opt for pushing it and staying just behind. At the top, she shows a little mercy (not for me, I assure you0 and begins running circles as we wait for our "third". </span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">Running back is mostly uneventful. Except where we encounter the stream; I guess it wasn’t an "accident". And the place where we encountered the dreaded "walkers". Why is it that, when out in groups of four or more, walkers will line up abreast and take up the entire width of the road ? In this case, it was just as we were coming to a bridge. We were still running at a hellish pace, and I wasn’t prepared to stop and walk behind the idiots. So, I sprinted up and stepped between the last person and the edge of the bridge. There was plenty of room (at least 6 inches), but I may have brushed them a I went by. Apparently, the rest of the group decided to shoot the gap with me. </span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">By the time we came to the last hill, two of the three of us were dying. The other guy says "I’m not running up the last hill’ . I say "I’m with you". Pirate girl just nods and smiles sweetly (like a pirhanna). We get to the foot of the hill and as two of us start to slow down, she takes off. I’m not falling for it; and I half expected it so I take off also. I later hear from our third member that a park ranger took a picture of us (must have thought I was trying to mug Pirate Girl). We made it to the end. By the time we did, both of us were dying. As we came up to the ramada, the third person caught up to us (in his defense, he was never very far behind). The two of them went to their vehicles to get water, I stayed behind and took off my sweatshirt and gloves and started walking around so I didn’t "set up". I must have looked pretty bad because people were avoiding me and mothers were staying between me and their children. Another fine run in the canyon (lair ?)</span>Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-33257450446160326492012-03-15T07:24:00.000-07:002012-03-15T07:24:58.059-07:00Secret TrainingWhen running partners are apart, they keep up the training so that they aren't "left behind" when the break is over and the run together again. Over the holidays, The Dark Warrior and I would text each day how far we had run. Weekly mileage was very similar even though we were on opposite ends of the US. While I was running Sabino Canyon to Prison Camp, he was running the white sandy beaches of Florida (I have no sympathy for him, and neither should you). Below is his story.<br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><strong>"Christmas Running - keeping up with a 'cheating' running partner" by The Dark Warrior</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">So, here it is February, and I'm about to write about training that occurred over Christmas. This shouldn't surprise you. My speed in writing just about matches my speed on the half marathon. Not exactly fast. However, I keep being reminded of this challenge I made with a trail runner. A young, fast, vindictive, sneaky trail runner. I don't remember exactly how this bet came about; of course, I don't remember much of the seventies either (thankfully). Be that as it may, I promised to document every mile leading up to the Ascent. Elsewhere I mentioned the peculiar relationship between running partners (best friend, worst enemy). There is nothing that illustrates this like enforced time away from each other. In this case, over Christmas, we had almost 4 weeks apart. She stayed in Tucson, I had to go to South Alabama where we have part ownership in a beach house. Ok, it's in Florida but it's only 20 miles from Alabama. Trust me, it's close enough. The locals refer to it as “the Redneck Riviera”. Joy.</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">Time away from your running partner is traumatic. For one thing, you know that they are sneaking in extra miles to shave time off their averages. For the second, she has the high tech gizmo that tells you the distance and the speed. Without her, I have no idea how far I've run. The closest I can come is a ball of kite string and a stop watch (even using a tape measure, it takes a while to measure your total distance). Finally, without your partner, there is no one to motivate you by suggesting "want to take a nice, easy recovery run up the canyon?". In other words, no one to lie to you in a little disguised attempt to take you out and kill you - what doesn't kill you, makes you strong...or fast...or paranoid (ok, so my definition of motivation is a bit warped).</span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"></span><span style="color: blue;"><br /> </span><span style="color: blue;">The Florida Pan Handle is an interesting place to visit (sort of like Hell: nice and warm for a while, but you wouldn't want to live there). The area that we have the house is the same place frequented by Brittany Spears, Cheryl Crow, Miley Cyrus and Paris Hilton (I did give the Hell analogy, didn't I ?). It does have a few redeeming features. At Christmas, there are miles of beach frequented by only two or three people. In addition, there are around 70 miles of relatively flat bike path. And, finally, there is a National Forest with miles of Biking/Running trails. So, I arrived in Florida sans running partner. The first thing that I did was to run 4 miles along the beach. Sounds relaxing, right? Wrong! The beach is about the worst place that there is to run if you're training. First, beach sand is like quicksand, only dry. Running in it is horrible due to the effort required and because it has a tendency to find its’ way into your shoes and immediately start rubbing sensitive areas. The remedy for this is to run where the sand is hard. The only place where there is hard sand is next to the surf. The ocean is sneaky. You'll be running along on wet, hard , sand with the ocean thirty feet to your right; next thing you know, you're sharing your running shoes with five hundred gallons of water, thirty pounds of sand and a pissed off jelly fish or two. Second, the beach slopes at a noticeable angle. If you run 3 miles in one direction, you have to run back in the opposite direction so that you can tweak both knees equally. Next, the ocean and the wind are in cahoots. The wind scallops the beach so that it is in huge "sawtooth" dunes. You feel like a scene out of Lawrence Of Arabia. No matter how you try to gauge your stride, the toe of one shoe or the other is digging in to the top of the next dune (SM - sucketh mightily). Finally there are fishermen and the owners of small dogs. Have you ever noticed that people that own Yorkies and other small dogs almost without exception have them on "reel in" leashes that are at least 40 feet in length. Why, on earth, would you have a small dog on the end of a leash that long? By the time that the dog hits the end of the leash, it is too tired to return on its’ own power. The only thing that makes sense is that owner intends to use the leash, reel and dog to spin cast for sharks. The fishermen are almost as bad as the dog owners. They pound a pipe into the sand, cast their lures out into the ocean, place the handle of the pole into the pipe, and sit down in a beach chair to take a nap. The only way to avoid the line strung at neck height is to note where the ends of the pole are and draw a theoretical straight line to the edge of the surf (if you aren’t busy dodging an ankle-biting Yorkie at the time. So there you have it, the beach is the worst place to train. </span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">With running on the beach so much fun, I decided on running the bike path. It was a fairly uneventful run for the six miles out (minus the point where some tourist leading a gaggle of family members on bikes going the opposite direction shouts out “You make it look too easy, Old Timer!” </span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">Fortunately, he was well past before I could throw the appropriate elbow and play Dominoes with his family. Note to self: consider a bottle or three of “Just For Men” hair color. Running back illustrates how fast the weather can change on the coast: warm and sunny until you’ve gotten as far from home as you intend and then raining and lightening all the way home. Knowing that lightening tends to strike the tallest object quickly makes you realize that, on the coast, YOU are frequently the tallest object. It was this run that forced me partially into the modern age of running. I realized that I could not use my usual methods of determining the distance that I had run (for the record, in order of preference the were : get it from my running partner, get if from the odometer of my car after driving the trail, get it off the Treadmill(shudder)). My car couldn’t drive on the path, so I called up Ms. Perky for advice. She suggested a program available on the internet. After many tries, I was able to determine the distance. I realized, however, that for running the National forest, this wouldn’t work well (sort of like using a pre-Columbian map to find the New World). No, I didn’t run out and buy a run logger. Instead, I downloaded an app for my trusty Droid. I now use this app frequently and I usually get acceptable results. I did say usually; this could be because I’ve tinkered with my Droid’s software (maybe tinker isn’t strong enough – I did a Frankenstienian transplant. Now I have to be extremely care of what commands I give it lest I inadvertently command it to move a satellite or some such). And now comes the great irony of the week of training away from my partner. “How far did you run?” Turns out, without coordinating, that she ran 34.7 miles; I ran 34.5. I knew she was running more in order to improve her times! She Cheats! </span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">Let me interject a progress report. By this time, I had lost 18 lbs. Part of this was weight lost due to training, the other was weight scared off by running trails with Ms. Perky. I went to a party held by local friends that I only see at Christmas. One of the friends notes that I have lost weight and asks me how much I lost. I tell him. He responds by saying that he was able to lose that much when his jaw was wired shut. No explanation, no story, just that statement. I didn’t ask. I did tell you that this was South Alabama. </span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">My final adventure was running in the Washington National Forest. You can get away with this in the Winter. In the Summer, it is a Cypress Swamp populated by alligators, wild pigs, black bear, deer, mosquitoes, water moccasins and idiots (deer hunters). You can’t go anywhere in the Summer without a machete and an industrial can of insect repellant. In the winter, you don’t have the reptiles or the mosquitoes. My intent was to take a moderate trail (8 miles or so). Last time I tried this I was gone for four hours. This time, I had a map, my cell phone and a determination to follow the markers. I didn’t carry a gun because it weighs me down (like water) and I’ve always felt that fear makes you run faster. I started out through the forest and had gone a few miles when a herd of swamp deer jumped across the road. They may be called “deer”, but I swear they were the size of ponies. And they jumped a long way. It was like a herd of flying ponies jumping out of the palmettos. I was glad that I was wearing black. Palmettos are nasty plants. They’re like short palm trees that grow in large clumps. I ran past one clump and noted that the wind had come up and was rustling the leaves. Then I noted that the leaves across the path were still. Point of survey – when confronted with evidence of wild animal, do you a) stop, b) run faster, C) go at the same pace and hope they don’t notice? I noticed evidence of the idiot population – the trail markers had often been used for targets. The worst problem was the area that had been the recent recipient of a brush fire. Try finding a burned trail marker on a burned tree trunk sometime. At the end of it, I made it out alive and had only added 2 miles more than I had planned. End of the week mileage – Ms. Perky had 36, I had 35. Like I said, she cheats. So by the end of vacation, I had been able to run six days a week for four weeks. I was ready for almost anything my partner could throw at me. Almost.</span>Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-69844143617233377752012-02-29T06:18:00.001-08:002012-02-29T06:18:51.598-08:00Who hates the treadmill more?Now that I invited The Dark Warrior to write and share his side of our running partnership on my blog, I can't shut the guy up. He has sent me 3 journal entries, which now means I'm behind and must catch up. Our running relationship has transferred to this blog, and I can't be the one behind. Especially because it's my blog!<br />
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On the weekends, DW and I head outside for training, running on Saturdays and Sundays, training for the evil Pikes Peak Ascent, which was all his idea. During the week we go our separate training ways, with me continuing my outdoor runs and him heading to the health club to run the treadmill. Now, I detest treadmills. I will run in the most heinous of weather to avoid them. It's been years since I touched one. On a recent trip to DC, as the plane landed we looked out the window and it was snowing. We got to the hotel, changed into our running clothes, and checked out the treadmills on the 3rd floor. I just couldn't do it. I got my running jacket and gloves, he donned his homeless man's sweatshirt, and we headed outdoors to run in the snow because I refused to step foot on the treadmill. And it actually turned out to be a great run.<br />
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Since the DW spends so much time on treadmills on a weekly basis, below is his description of his loving relationship with them.<br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><strong>"Treadmills - Mobius Strips of Death" by The Dark Warrior</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">The last time that I updated this journal, I described how my running partner tried to kill another innocent and I on the same trail run. Some might ask "Why run with someone that tries to kill you ?" A reasonable question. Pity that long distance runners are as far from reasonable as the Earth is to the Moon. You run with your running partner due to a horrible mixture of friendship and hatred. You're best friends with the person because you spend a frigging lot of time in places where there is nothing resembling civilization with them. You hate them because you're afraid that they may be shaving a second per mile off their time when they're running alone without you.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">Which gets me to the point of this entry. During the week, my partner is free to run everyday due to an extremely understanding spouse and an equally understanding co-worker. She can modify her hours to match the available daylight (I did say I hated her, didn't I ?). I on the other hand must rely on the evils of indoor training equipment. This is because I go to work before daylight in the Winter and leave after dark. There is no more odious task in the world than going to the local meat emporium (fitness center) after work and spending time on aerobic training equipment.</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">In the fitness center, you can elect to receive your punishment in a number of ways. There are those that swear by the exercycle. Typically, these people are reading a magazine and listening to an IPOD or some such. My view is that the only time a magazine should be employed in indoor training is to cover the still warm pile of vomit you left on the floor while you run for the paper towels. Still others swear by the elliptical - "It gives you a total body workout, not just your legs" - news flash : I don't run on my arms. My belief is that people use the elliptical because it has convenient handholds so you don't slip off at level one while discussing the loser you were with on last night's date. Finally, there is the treadmill. I have a special relationship with treadmills; I hate them. If you're a history buff, find a history of the middle ages. Look up forms of torture. I guarantee that in every book you will find an illustration of a device called "The Rack". The Rack was a platform that had rollers on each end with a hand crank. You tied the victims arms to one set of rollers and their feet to the other set and slowly took up the slack with the hand crank. Not only could you slowly increase the reach of the victim but you could easily pop the arms and legs out of the sockets. Now, getting back to the treadmill, if you put a continuous belt around the rollers, replaced the hand crank with a motor, put in a vertical riser and crossbar with a display and a tilt adjustment, you'd have the modern treadmill. I don't think that this is an accident. All of those Royal Torturers had to go somewhere after torture fell on disfavor ("Psst,hey, Princess. Your ass is looking flabby. I've got something that can fix that").</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">So, in the Winter months, when daylight is short and I'm not clinging to high trails for my life while running with my partner, I run on the treadmill. I've said that I hate them; let me try to describe why. First, there are the people that habitually use them. These come in several types. Type 1 is the Spandex Queen - Typified by brightly colored excercise clothing that has never seen a drop of perspiration. The top of which has a strategically low cut to reveal the after market breasts. These users will inevitably be walking at an incline while talking to another Spandex Queen on the next treadmill. If the mindless chatter isn't enough to make you hurl, the overwhelming stench of perfume will shut down your airways almost immediately. Type 2 is the Super Runner - Typically male, age 20 to 35. These icons of ultimate maleness can be seen running on a teadmill that is set to 8 mph. Their pattern of running is to sprint for five minutes then hop up on the edges of the machine while the belt runs underneath them as they adjust IPOD, dringk sports drink, answer cell ("dude" - it's a male friend on the other end. "Hi. Oh nothing. Just doing my daily tuneup" - female, potential date). I could go on. Needless to say, at typical meat market hours, finding a treadmill upon which to run is an excercise in strategy and diplomacy ("Excuse me miss, do you mind if I move your workout bag, towel, sports drink, and spare magazine off this machine you are not using ?").</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">Next, there is the machine itself. The belt is too narrow. Just wide enough to let you get up to a decent pace; but narrow enough to allow you to accidentally step onto the non-moving part if your attention should lapse for a nano-second. Imagine the scene if one half your body suddenly goes to zero mile per hour while the second half continues at 8 miles per hour. In aircraft parlance this would be called a "snap roll" and would result in one wing being ripped off the plane. In running parlance this is called wiping out and results in one arm being dislocated at the shoulder. Not only is the belt too narrow, but the machine is too short. Let yourself be luuled asleep and you step off the back of the belt. Step too far and your knee jams under the crossbar. Then there is the readout. It counts off every f'ing second. If you are running fast, you have no choice but to watch the readout. Take your eyes off the display and you will step off the belt into oblivion. Me, I count the second by tens, downward from 600. This means that I am counting down each ten minute segment. Do this out loud and people stare at you. Do it out loud for an hour and they walk to the other side of the club to pass you. If you do manage to keep in the middle and on pace, the machine is relentless. There is no varying your stride. You must match the pace of the belt. Which gets me to the final irritation. In most clubs the machines are set to a fixed maximum duration. If you are trying to set a milage mark, nothing is more furiating than approaching your distance (say 7 miles) only to have the freaking machine time out at 6.3 miles or 60 minutes. Like I say, I hate them.</span>Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-50022608494328159522012-01-01T20:56:00.000-08:002012-01-01T20:56:12.980-08:00Running from Sabino Canyon to Prison CampI got this crazy idea in my head to do a point-to-point trail run as my long run over the weekend. Looking at my maps, it was possible to run from Sabino Canyon to Prison Camp (Gordon Hirabayashi Recreation Site) on Mt. Lemmon, just past milepost 7 on Catalina Highway. So I filled my hydration pack with water and snacks, and coordinated some shuttling with Zac. He would drop me off at Sabino Canyon and drive my Jeep up to Prison Camp and leave it at the trailhead. He would then ride his mountain bike down, enjoying the Prison Camp to Molino Basin portion of the AZ Trail and the road down. I've realized, endurance runners and downhill mountain bikers should partner up more often. Endurance runners want to go up the mountains and have cars waiting for them, and downhill mountain bikers want to start at the top and head down.<br />
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At 10:30 AM I started my run at the bottom of the road in Sabino Canyon. It was a good thing Zac was dropping me off because the parking lot was packed with snowbirds and holiday visitors. And since it was past 9 AM, the evil trams were running.<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Click photos to enlarge).</span></em><br />
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I've been running Sabino Canyon on a weekly basis, but this time I had my camera with me. Thimble Peak is a common sight in the canyon, but would be an important landmark for my crazy run in the mountains today.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D26m3kQtA8s/TwEkk4-yBaI/AAAAAAAAC8w/SfQ0ffSUzso/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D26m3kQtA8s/TwEkk4-yBaI/AAAAAAAAC8w/SfQ0ffSUzso/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The warm December temperatures have led to lower elevation snowmelt and lots of water flowing in Sabino Creek. The last bridge was overflowing with water, and kids were squealing and people were trying to avoid getting their shoes wet. I ran right through the middle of the water. I figured my trail shoes were going to be in and out of water throughout the day anyways. Besides, a good trail run always involves the 5 elements: earth, air, fire, water, and blood.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kav1nZ3VUaw/TwEkn9l48OI/AAAAAAAAC84/ZzgEHFkWWNI/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kav1nZ3VUaw/TwEkn9l48OI/AAAAAAAAC84/ZzgEHFkWWNI/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eXsppo3tdjg/TwEkrVBfi9I/AAAAAAAAC9A/mb-1ieyvncg/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eXsppo3tdjg/TwEkrVBfi9I/AAAAAAAAC9A/mb-1ieyvncg/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+010.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I reached the last hill on the paved road of the canyon and was caught by the evil trams.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IDPts9n-Rdg/TwEkt7crs1I/AAAAAAAAC9I/grU_Vznc9oY/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IDPts9n-Rdg/TwEkt7crs1I/AAAAAAAAC9I/grU_Vznc9oY/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+012.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This was truly unfortunate timing. By the time I reached the turnaround of the paved road, two tramloads of people had been let out. There were people everywhere, including on the switchbacks leading up to the Sabino Canyon and Phoneline trails. I had to do a lot of hiking to pass all of the tourists that would stop in the middle of the trail without warning.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sGqvxSLme_w/TwEkxKTXeMI/AAAAAAAAC9Q/D22-8s-bpa0/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sGqvxSLme_w/TwEkxKTXeMI/AAAAAAAAC9Q/D22-8s-bpa0/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+013.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Road, switchbacks, and Phoneline Trail.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MVbZngDhJK0/TwEk0JyE7BI/AAAAAAAAC9Y/LSXN6Wl9M7g/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MVbZngDhJK0/TwEk0JyE7BI/AAAAAAAAC9Y/LSXN6Wl9M7g/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+015.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Finally I reached the trail intersection. Today's destination, the East Fork Trail (#24A), which is also part of the Arizona Trail.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tXysZxUY7mI/TwEk3UbfprI/AAAAAAAAC9g/Y7qZ5LkpNo0/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tXysZxUY7mI/TwEk3UbfprI/AAAAAAAAC9g/Y7qZ5LkpNo0/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+017.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is the climb up the Sabino Canyon trail. I took this picture knowing The Dark Warrior would appreciate it. That would be the trail skirting along the cliff.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4AkdAlcUwKY/TwEk67PKWOI/AAAAAAAAC9o/4HVVvotZMsI/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4AkdAlcUwKY/TwEk67PKWOI/AAAAAAAAC9o/4HVVvotZMsI/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+018.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Looking back at Sabino Canyon and the paved road I had climbed earlier.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vLsyAAs5Rxs/TwEk-MJCbFI/AAAAAAAAC9w/Ei8UmxtQNLQ/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vLsyAAs5Rxs/TwEk-MJCbFI/AAAAAAAAC9w/Ei8UmxtQNLQ/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+020.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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A view of "what's around the corner." Sabino Creek in the middle of the picture, and the trail would wander through the hills.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R0S6Fy2CuGo/TwElJyG8vMI/AAAAAAAAC-E/6BA4WaAg5X0/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R0S6Fy2CuGo/TwElJyG8vMI/AAAAAAAAC-E/6BA4WaAg5X0/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+024.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Running the trail, with Sabino Canyon down below.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zElcOrCPe-M/TwElHd7t5eI/AAAAAAAAC98/JPvV0egw3wM/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zElcOrCPe-M/TwElHd7t5eI/AAAAAAAAC98/JPvV0egw3wM/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+021.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Had to get a shot with the saguaro in the background.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7hXZlbM0tS8/TwElOWqaAgI/AAAAAAAAC-M/r_NENmaHMyY/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7hXZlbM0tS8/TwElOWqaAgI/AAAAAAAAC-M/r_NENmaHMyY/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+027.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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My final parting view of Sabino Canyon before disappearing into the hills.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-v6RHerUq5xg/TwElQuLryGI/AAAAAAAAC-U/uHsnYTnNQCU/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-v6RHerUq5xg/TwElQuLryGI/AAAAAAAAC-U/uHsnYTnNQCU/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+028.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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At this point, the trail is descending down to the creek below. Sometimes this isn't a good sign, because that means climbing back UP from the creek.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tFq4MpIMMWk/TwElTyShQQI/AAAAAAAAC-c/jFY5O783_sU/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tFq4MpIMMWk/TwElTyShQQI/AAAAAAAAC-c/jFY5O783_sU/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+033.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I reached the intersection of the East Fork and West Fork trails, which are designated as part of the AZ Trail. I had never done this section of trail before, and because it's within the wilderness boundary, I can only trail run it (no mountain bikes in wilderness). I would continue on and take the East Fork.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZD0tAL2f21k/TwElXeXWuwI/AAAAAAAAC-k/LIaVSWnKhO0/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZD0tAL2f21k/TwElXeXWuwI/AAAAAAAAC-k/LIaVSWnKhO0/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+034.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Box Camp Trail is a future training trail run goal of mine. This will have to happen much later in the year after a lot more training. This trail comes out on Catalina Highway by Spencer Peak, around milepost 22ish.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2sg9CmrL1T8/TwElfd8WMiI/AAAAAAAAC-w/avcR_GA5mT0/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2sg9CmrL1T8/TwElfd8WMiI/AAAAAAAAC-w/avcR_GA5mT0/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+035.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Starting the climb on the AZT out of the creek bed.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ldRvQKojwDw/TwElhmYco7I/AAAAAAAAC-4/V6zL4n0d0bg/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ldRvQKojwDw/TwElhmYco7I/AAAAAAAAC-4/V6zL4n0d0bg/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+036.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Palisades Trail is another future training run option, with this trail ending at the Palisades visitor center.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZU3LlNT6ah8/TwElk_eufFI/AAAAAAAAC_A/FftXUM69ElY/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZU3LlNT6ah8/TwElk_eufFI/AAAAAAAAC_A/FftXUM69ElY/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+038.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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More climbing on long, winding switchbacks on the East Fork Trail.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cQmZqi4yKgY/TwElp3latbI/AAAAAAAAC_I/7Es8j0soEGc/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cQmZqi4yKgY/TwElp3latbI/AAAAAAAAC_I/7Es8j0soEGc/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+039.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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At the top of the switchbacks, the trail became a bit of a catwalk on the side of the cliff.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O4H0I75iGVQ/TwElsW3Of4I/AAAAAAAAC_Q/ukZWFrxoRsI/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O4H0I75iGVQ/TwElsW3Of4I/AAAAAAAAC_Q/ukZWFrxoRsI/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+043.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Still running, with the Palisades Trail on the hillside in the background.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-16A8HTrObAI/TwElvBPDmdI/AAAAAAAAC_Y/irh411oiY_k/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-16A8HTrObAI/TwElvBPDmdI/AAAAAAAAC_Y/irh411oiY_k/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+050.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I had just run around the rocky crag in the shadows, which became a landmark later on.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oTp3GILq4gM/TwElygK0gEI/AAAAAAAAC_g/Rs_viz-JdHQ/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oTp3GILq4gM/TwElygK0gEI/AAAAAAAAC_g/Rs_viz-JdHQ/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+053.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This was the intersection with the Bear Canyon Trail. This can be taken back to Sabino Canyon to make one large loop. At this point the trail changed names to the Sycamore Reservoir Trail.</div>
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<img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O3jC-7TumKA/TwEl6iUOkmI/AAAAAAAAC_s/LGMjYmljF0I/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+054.JPG" width="320" /></div>
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I had run part of the Sycamore Reservoir Trail before, and at this point the memories were getting jumbled and I got my trail saddles confused. Turns out the saddles look very familiar, except there's an additional 2 miles to go! I hit a few unmarked trail splinters, so had to rely on trail sense to figure out which way to go. When in doubt, I followed horse tracks. Prison Camp has a huge horse trailer parking section, so that's the only direction they could have come to get on the trail. Since my Jeep was at Prison Camp, I followed the horse tracks.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s8rokN0fx9M/TwEl8tHOzkI/AAAAAAAAC_0/6P6OHxURlNs/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s8rokN0fx9M/TwEl8tHOzkI/AAAAAAAAC_0/6P6OHxURlNs/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+055.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This would be the widest creek crossing that I'd have to make all day. I wandered downstream until I found a shallower section. <br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cO4NS-FYKrw/TwEl_gCvNAI/AAAAAAAAC_8/SD6Y0hQO96k/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cO4NS-FYKrw/TwEl_gCvNAI/AAAAAAAAC_8/SD6Y0hQO96k/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+056.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Crazy fungus. I swear I didn't sample these on the trail!<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RaqMW6QGxOk/TwEmDBxn9NI/AAAAAAAADAE/_IwImPNTT9Q/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RaqMW6QGxOk/TwEmDBxn9NI/AAAAAAAADAE/_IwImPNTT9Q/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+060.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This was the Sycamore Creek area of the trail. The brush was too overgrown and dead to make it to the reservoir itself, so instead I stayed on the trail.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-00gcFRtLFUI/TwEmGu1Fv7I/AAAAAAAADAM/PrTSJUBjH-0/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-00gcFRtLFUI/TwEmGu1Fv7I/AAAAAAAADAM/PrTSJUBjH-0/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+064.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Ugh! 2 additional miles! These were by far the hardest miles because of the amount of climbing, and it was at the end of my long route.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fDahIpWKDQw/TwEmJ13hQJI/AAAAAAAADAU/-RCkUbdU6VE/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fDahIpWKDQw/TwEmJ13hQJI/AAAAAAAADAU/-RCkUbdU6VE/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+065.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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As I climbed out of Sycamore Creek, I caught this view of Thimble Peak. I was now viewing it from the other side from where I started that morning.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aWu3v2rMkhw/TwEmPSF-dNI/AAAAAAAADAc/nLN4hZeGy4c/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aWu3v2rMkhw/TwEmPSF-dNI/AAAAAAAADAc/nLN4hZeGy4c/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+066.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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As a reference point, this is the Thimble Peak vista point on Catalina Highway.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-850g3xWtwx0/TwEmZj-rmrI/AAAAAAAADAo/XPfH-LL6jXE/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-850g3xWtwx0/TwEmZj-rmrI/AAAAAAAADAo/XPfH-LL6jXE/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+067.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I climbed, and climbed, and climbed some more. The climbing up to the next saddle was relentless. In the shade, old snow and ice was still present but starting to melt.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5VLwuM8cXXE/TwEmeIfVCgI/AAAAAAAADAw/8F5m9o0LUn4/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5VLwuM8cXXE/TwEmeIfVCgI/AAAAAAAADAw/8F5m9o0LUn4/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+070.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Finally I reached the top of the saddle and the AZT marker!<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KX4em8htpOM/TwEmgBqCSXI/AAAAAAAADA4/nhGxnlyN_8c/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KX4em8htpOM/TwEmgBqCSXI/AAAAAAAADA4/nhGxnlyN_8c/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+073.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This was the view from the AZT marker of the area I had traveled. The rocky crag that I had gone around is the shady spot in the middle in the distance. I had gone around that and through the hills to the left.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3W80ng82oNQ/TwEmjSKkgEI/AAAAAAAADBA/jqjk3Y6VhvE/s1600/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3W80ng82oNQ/TwEmjSKkgEI/AAAAAAAADBA/jqjk3Y6VhvE/s320/Sabino+to+Prison+Camp+076.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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And looking over the other side of the saddle, this was the distance I had left to go. The trail continues down through the valley and in between the grassy hill and rocky mountain.<br />
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I crossed the creek about 20 times on my way to the parking area. I emerged at the trailhead, happy to find my Jeep left by Zac waiting for me. One last check of the hydration pack, and I had about 2 sips of water left. 3 hours 43 minutes moving time (4.5 hrs total elapsed time), 11.8 miles, and 6000 feet of climbing.<br />
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My GPS track overlayed on the topo map via TopoFusion. Green is flatter compared to red as far as climbing goes. The climb at the end (in red) was so much that it made the Sabino Canyon road (in green) appear flat!</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GpvUrMUFnIU/TwEpuvaBJ8I/AAAAAAAADBg/K_R_4OdjmBg/s1600/SabinoCanyon_to_PrisonCamp_map2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GpvUrMUFnIU/TwEpuvaBJ8I/AAAAAAAADBg/K_R_4OdjmBg/s320/SabinoCanyon_to_PrisonCamp_map2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-2857965333148455872011-12-25T20:03:00.000-08:002011-12-25T20:03:24.130-08:00Choose your running partners wiselyThe week after the Kauai trail run we were back in Tucson, which meant another Sabino Canyon run. I had always wanted to run up the Phoneline Trail and back down the road as a loop. The Dark Warrior had agreed to this idea a few weeks prior. So I also invited The Boulder along, and at the last minute, he showed up. So there the 3 of us were in the parking lot, ready to go. This was the first run of the 3 of us running together. I would soon find out I was outnumbered.<br />
<br />
You have to choose wisely which running partner you bring on certain trails. Only after I judge the skills of a runner do I allow them to go on my exploratory runs with me, where I don't really know the trail or the distance. So we set out and started up the Phoneline trail. The Boulder had already experienced this part of the trail with me, and now knew it went straight up in the first mile. The DW did not, but he'd figure it out from looking up at the mountain from the flat part of the trail down below.<br />
<br />
We hit the steep part, and after awhile it got quiet behind me. Too quiet. I turned around. "Who's hiking back there?!?" I yelled. Busted. The Boulder was walking. He knows he has longer legs and can pull off a longer stride at a walk in what takes 2 of my running strides up a trail. No matter, at least move the arms or keep some sort of cadence of "running" while we're on the trail! We climb and climb and start skirting along the side of the mountain, following the trail. The DW doesn't like heights but knew he couldn't stop and turn back. Now I'm wondering, why did the guy that has issues with heights challenge me to the Pike's Peak Ascent, which climbs to 14,000 feet up A MOUNTAIN with steep drop offs? The only answer is that he's not right in the head, like all of my running partners. No sane people can really run with me. The sane ones are out on the Rillito River path where it's safe, and not climbing a mountain.<br />
<br />
At this point, The DW and The Boulder team up and start scheming on how they could pick me up and toss me over the side because the ghastly run we were doing was my idea. I'm outnumbered, so all I can do is stay ahead of them, just out of reach. Both of them are wondering why they showed up to The Canyon that morning. We start to get closer to the end of the trail, and other trail users approach from the opposite direction. We get odd looks. Later I jokingly tell The Boulder and The DW, "They were probably thinking, 'Look at that woman dragging her husband and father along the trail like that.'" Why else would people like us be out there? Oh yeah, because we are crazy. Most wouldn't guess we are running partners.<br />
<br />
Because this is a route I've never done before, I can never be too sure of the total mileage. At one point I mention being "about 1 mile" from the intersection, which The Boulder and The DW both exclaim is an evil trick, because they passed a sign that said 2.7 miles (I failed to see such a sign). So for the next 20 minutes I heard nothing but how long my 1 mile was. "I told you it was ABOUT 1 mile, not EXACTLY 1 mile!" I may need to divorce The Boulder and disown The DW. Forget that we're not married or related to each other. I can make it happen. I once divorced Liane's husband, Nate, 8 times for a lack of firewood at the 24 hour race.<br />
<br />
We made it to the switchback section, which The DW and I had run a few weeks before. This time it wasn't slippery, and he started pushing the pace, which caused him to catch up closer to me. Too close. Hmm...given the past comments about tossing me over the side I wasn't going to give him the opportunity, so I had to speed up. I was running at Mach Stupid down the trail until I safely hit the pavement. The 3 of us gathered up in formation and finished out the 3.7 miles of road back to the parking lot, for a total of a 9 mile loop. All of us survived. However, I may need to split those two up for future runs or else they'll come after me for revenge. Nevermind that we all work in the same office area. Hmm...perhaps I should guard my coffee mug carefully lest they get ideas.<br />
<br />
And now The DW's point of view on this run:<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: #0b5394;">The first rule – never play in another runner’s universe; they’re God there - return to the canyon</span></strong><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">And so it goes. I recovered from my harrowing run in Hawaii with only a limp. Blame that on a dime </span><span style="color: #0b5394;">sized blister. I was only occasionally plagued by nightmares of falling off of slime covered cliffs into the </span><span style="color: #0b5394;">raging torrents below (wait a moment…those are memories). Almost a week had passed, time for the truly gullible to be ripe for another offer. "You know how we ran up Sabino Canyon and then onto the switchbacks? Well I’ve always wanted to run back along the pipeline trail and complete the loop."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">Ok. Think about this for a moment. She runs Triathalons. And she’s never run this trail. In her back yard. Only the village idiot would take her up on it. And then, betrayed by my own vocal cords, I hear "when would you like to run it?" She pounces like a black widow on a particularly juicy fly. "This weekend would be nice."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">And there you have it; trapped into another flirtation with Death. At least this time she invites another running partner to run with us. Someone young and in good enough shape to carry the head-end of the body out along the trail. My body.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">We meet at the Canyon at the assigned time. This time I bring disposable gloves (the cheap jersey gardener’s gloves that they sell at Walmart). Mostly, I’m trying to save the Coroner the trouble of having to peel them off my cold dead fingers. We all pull into the parking lot at the same time. No mean feat since we are coming from the ends of the Earth. We park beside each other like some scene on the flight line from American Dawn Patrol (sorry kiddies, you probably don’t get the reference – tough).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">We get out of our cars into the frigid morning air. The desert shouldn’t ever be this frickin cold. The other poor dumb male points to a a faint line in the hills; "that’s where we’re running, right ?" "You can see it for miles, looks like a long way up." Perfect, like being able to see the plank you’re going to walk from the next ship over.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">So, now it’s time to start running. My running partner (the overly perky, very young one) leads the way. First thing I know, she takes off into the desert. No trail markings, just a deer trail leading off into the wilderness. Perky is in the front; our friend is in the back. Now I get an inkling what she is up to. He is back there to keep me from turning back…sort of like Cortez burning his ships. We soon reach the part of the trail that begins to climb. Lovely, I’m sure that mountain goats use this as a training ground. Then we get to a rocky part of the trail. Perky hits it like a squirrel going up a tree after a walnut; me, all I can think about is that I hope my knees don’t give out. I have visions of tearing sounds followed by a long, long drop.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">Eventually, a very steep climb along slick granite rocks becomes merely an interminable climb along slick granite rocks. Suddenly, our leader shouts back "It’s too quite back there, one of you is walking." From behind I hear a muted "shit". And on we go, along a narrow path that would give a Tibetan sherpa the willies. Did I mention my fear of heights? It is only surpassed by my fear of sudden landings. I notice that the trail is "missing" one side. Of course, our ever pleasant leader chooses that time to say "you can see the road down there". I know better than to look. If I do, I become a permanent trail marker. "look dad, that rock looks just like a terrified runner; clinging to the rocks".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">I won’t bore you with too many other details. At one point I observed that "If we throw her off the trail from here, she’ll probably bounce off the road below" She sped up. Lack of trust. I will point out that about 6 miles into our Baton Death run, she slowed down to point out a mileage marker. "we’ve been this far coming up from the other end. It’s only about another mile" I turn back to he other poor dumb bastard behind me "you did note that it said 2.7 miles to go, didn’t you ?". He shouts up ahead "you did say that you’ve run this trail before?". Silence. Never ask a question to which you can’t stand the answer. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">Needless to say, we survived. Barely. And I’m a richer man for it. Nothing like several near death experiences to make you appreciate level ground. But part of me has come to the nagging realization "this is what the ascent will be like". What to do? How do I prepare so that I don’t die on the mountain?</span>Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-55509268415699006752011-12-24T14:33:00.000-08:002011-12-24T14:44:43.124-08:00It's On: The Age vs. Beauty Grudge MatchI tend to do my insane endurance training and races every other year. I'll do one crazy year of training and racing, followed by a year off lollygagging and posie sniffing with the occasional bike ride or run mixed in. Look at how the past couple of years have gone: 2008 = Ironman Arizona, 2009 = off, 2010 = 5 XTERRAs and the XTERRA World Championships, 2011 = off. So now that 2011 is drawing to a close, I find my brain has recovered from the burnout stage and is once again finding races and events to sign up for. I figured I'd return back to endurance mountain biking, but I've found the pendulum has swung the other direction and I've turned to endurance running. Somewhere in the October timeframe I started running regularly again. I also started traveling a lot for work, and running is the easiest sport to fit in, as well as an outlet for stress.<br />
<br />
I also picked up another running partner. For quite awhile, I was running with The Boulder on a regular basis, but he had another woman enter his life of the short, bald, toothless variety (ok, he had a baby). But we still meet up about once a week at The Canyon (Sabino Canyon) for a torture fest. He also roped me in to doing the Tough Mudder race on January 14th. This may have been payback for previous races I roped him into...I'm not sure the tally at this point. So to be truly crazy, I decided to sign up for the PF Chang's 1/2 marathon for Sunday, January 15th, thinking it would be cool to run Chang's wearing my Tough Mudder shirt. The Boulder has hedged on Chang's, but he could pull a last-minute sign up at the expo race weekend on me. My running partners are always suspect for such actions.<br />
<br />
My new running partner shall be referred to as The Dark Warrior (DW), for several reasons. First, he's a martial arts expert which means this has opened up a whole new world of night running in sketchy cities while on business travel. Some women run with a big dog, a can of mace, or a gun. I have a trained killer. Second, it matches his sense of humor, which is why we get along quite well. Third, it's actually the meaning of his name. So there you go.<br />
<br />
The DW and I have actually worked together for a few years, but only recently started running together. He has a cabin in Colorado and about a year ago mentioned the Pike's Peak Ascent. I checked the website and it looked like a truly insane race, but wasn't on my radar as I was still in the midst of my XTERRA madness. However, this year we had several business trips together, and started running together while on travel. After our first trip he came by my office and mentioned Pike's Peak again. Well, he will learn that he caught me at a bad time of year, when I'm over my recovery and looking for truly insane and challenging races. So this time I said sure, I'd run it with him. Never mind that I've never seen Pike's Peak in person, or experienced that type of elevation in my life. Nope, when I say I'm going to do something, I do it. "I'm going to finish the Ironman." Did it. "I'm going to build a car." Doing it. I'm going to run Pike's Peak with The DW.<br />
<br />
He then coined this as the "Age vs. Beauty Grudge Match." Being in his mid-50's he claims to be "an old man." Having experienced many triathlon courses where men of that age group and beyond have passed me on the course (I know because their age is sharpied onto the back of their calf), I know not to trust such claims. Besides, he's a martial arts expert. How many mid-50 year olds beat the shit out of teenagers on a weekly basis? This one does. For fun. So I'm going along with the grudge match. Neither of us is the type to back down once the gauntlet has been thrown. And, of course, we both immediately began our secret training runs during the week. My strategy was to run hills of every kind. His was to hit the treadmill. I'd rather poke my eyes out than run the treadmill. So we'll see how this turns out. My other friends have immediately taken advantage of the situation. Liane asked what I was training for, and I mentioned Tough Mudder, PF Chang's and The Ascent. "Oh so you're doing a lot of running then," she exclaimed (I'm suspicious at this point). When I answered yes, she said "So you'd be up for running the Grand Canyon rim to rim with me this year in May." Normally I'd think this was insane, but since I was roped into Pike's Peak and threw my brain out the window I now thought of Liane's idea as a great training run, and agreed. Liane, was of course, happy with the agreement and happy I had lost my brain.<br />
<br />
The DW is also a writer, and I finally got up the courage to ask if I could share his writing on my blog as the counterpoint to my writing about training. He agreed, so I will share with you the first few entries of his to get caught up (his writing will be in blue). <br />
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<strong><span style="color: #0b5394;">Fools Run In (with apologies to Mercer/Bloom)</span></strong><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">And so it begins. I'm not sure who the muse of over aged runners is probably some nymph with a name like Velocepidia or some such. But here I am, committed to attempting the Ascent on Pike's Peak. How does an over fifty near retiree end up on such a quest ?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">Good question, if I figure out the answer, I'll tell my therapist. It started innocently, like the Trojan War, or the Black Death; I was discussing running with my new Program Manager: a nice young thing who likes to run.....a lot. We got around to the stupid things that long distance runners do; like run accross the desert on utility trails without water at noon on the 4th of July, or running through a national forest without a map, or phone, or gun. One day I mentioned the Pike's Peak Ascent. Who knew that she'd google it, or be lying in wait. I walked to her desk one day after a moderate run and said "we should run the Pike's Peak Ascent", she said "Ok, let's do it this summer". Crap. And so we start. She informed me that there is a qualification ; a half marathon. Double crap. I meant what I said, and I said what I meant..an Idiot's truthful one hundered per cent.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">So, here it goes; I'm writing this because this is one that should be documented, for surviving generations of middle aged men as a guide to what not to do. I'll try to keep this up every weekend until the event. Maybe someone will finish it for me posthumously.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">Saturday Oct 22, 2011 - After diligently hitting the treadmill for two weeks, I attempted to break 8:30 miles over a 4 mile run. Did it : 8:22s. Never want to run that fast on a treadmill again. F'ing thing is too short. You're either against the panic bar or back to where you are about to step off into oblivion. The only thing you can do is stare at the digits. It's like Chinese water torture. However, I have faced a mental hurdle and know that it is at least theoretically possible to qualify; and heck, that young thing in the running tights that I accidentally coughed phlegm on was way too young for me, anyway.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">From here on out, it is run and always press the time. The tendency for someone my age is to jog (don't want to outrun your walker). I'll always have to overstride in order to make the time. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">Next weekend, it's the desert by Hoover Dam.</span> <br />
<br />
At this point I was running a few times during the week, at 5 miles each, then Sabino Canyon with The Boulder on the weekends. At the office, The DW and I started throwing back and forth how we were planning on cheating on our training to beat the other. <br />
<br />
Me: "I have Mt. Lemmon in my back yard." <br />
Him: "I have a cabin at elevation in Colorado." <br />
Me: "You don't swim. I can swim to strengthen my lungs." <br />
Him: "I go to Colorado every summer. I can train on the course." <br />
<br />
Dammit. <br />
<br />
Anyways, the subject of cheating came up in his next journal entry. <br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: #0b5394;">She Cheats</span></strong> <br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">Of course she cheats; she's young, agile, and runs like the wind. She has all of the high tech gear, heart rate monitor, GPS, elapsed time, Hell for all I know the computer tells her when to step sideways to compensate for Coriolis effect. Myself, on the other hand, I'm old fashioned. I tell my time splits by the number of fingers of shadow on the lee side of parking cones as I pass them. I time my pulse by blinking with each red flash after a run and counting them off on a second hand.</span> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">But, no matter the age, running distance is running distance. You make deals with yourself (I'll turn around at the next hill, honest) and then breaking those deals...you cheat.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">Eventually, you get to the end, and you promise yourself "That's good enough to qualify". The next week, your out there again saying "I can cut ten seconds off last week..I slowed to look at my watch, I won't do that this time". And so, you lie again.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">This weekend was an opportunity to run an out and back that I always liked. I was in Las Vegas, staying at the Hacienda for one night before going out for yet another age innapropriate activity the next day. Behind the Hacienda there is a trail that leads down to a bicycle trail that runs along the deserted track of the gravel train used to build Hoover Dam. The trail takes off across the waste on a nicely paved bike trail; not one intended for runners. In the summer, it gets to 117 on a cool day. But today, it will only be a balmy 88.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">No need to carry water and be slowed by it. I carry a cell phone so that the Coroner can find me by the GPS. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">I'm up at 5:30, but I must wait until dawn before I can set out. The initial path leads down a sheep trail and has a steep drop and no lights. One would not want to step in the still steaming evidence of sheep only to fall a hundred feet to one's death. It would be useemly to be laughed out of Hell.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">I start running and converge with the bike path. Soon I come across the first mileage marker. I'm struck by how much it looks like a small tombstone. It's a desert and most of these people are Mormons...it must make for a dry sense of humor. I use the mileage marker and the clock on my cell phone to clock the pace. Shit ! I'm only doing 12 minute miles. I try to pick up the speed. I run through a cut in the mountain, only to see more mountains and valleys. I think to myself "One of these valleys is wear the other dinosaurs went to die." But not for me, not today. Pretty soon I see a sign that says "steep grades". Only then do I realize that I have been running up a grade. Optical illusions in the desert are great practical jokes. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">Soon, I realize that I am being followed by a large crow. I figure I can expect buzzards or vultures, but a crow ? It's a Labor state, maybe they have a trade agreement. The crow follows me out to the near summit of the path, maybe 4 miles out. I look back at the casino across the desert. It looks like the Emerald City in the Wizard of Oz; only much, much smaller. I turn back and the crow turns with me...I'm maybe half way back and I'm passed by a cyclist. He has water...it flashes through my mind that I can mug him and take his water. At the speed he's going, if I stick a foot out, they'll find him a half mile from the path....with no water.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">Eventually, I make it back to the path to the casino. There are people running it. Old people, maybe 45. I run past them, one must keep appearances. In the end, I make it in almost exactly 88 min. Eleven minute miles. It will do.</span> <br />
<br />
Weeks of travel for work return and we are up at 5:30 AM and meet in the hotel lobby each morning to run. One doesn't want to be the one that slept in while the other was out running. Even when my body was wrecked and rebelling from travel, I still met The DW in the hotel lobby. Co-workers on the trips figured we were insane when we mentioned we had run 6 miles starting at 5:30 AM. Nope, just not willing to back down on a grudge match. The women would then ask how I could run in the dark and not be afraid of getting mugged. I replied that I brought my trained killer with me. <br />
<br />
Thanksgiving rolled around and The Boulder was out of town, so I invited The DW on my weekend Sabino Canyon run. I was surprised when he agreed to show up, given he lives in Nevada. Ok, he lives on the west side of town. But it may as well be Nevada. My plan for this run was the standard out & back on the road, but to add the half mile of switchback trail at the end. The DW claimed he hadn't been to Sabino Canyon in 30 years, so I narrated the trip as we ran. As we crossed the bridges I think he was getting tired of the hills because he mentioned pushing me over the edge. "I can swim" I replied. "Not with a broken ankle because I stepped on your toe as I pushed you over the edge" he replied. Hmm...perhaps he wasn't enjoying the hills. <br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: #0b5394;">She almost killed me</span></strong> <br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">First rule of training if you've challenged someone to run an insane race (like the Pike's Peak Challenge) : never train on your competitor's turf. It's sort of like challenging a gunfighter to a fight and letting him have his choice of weapons, letting him have the sun to his back, and finally, letting him count to three.</span> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">In this case change the pronoun to feminine. I'd change it to sneaky if there were such a thing. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">The course was on the other side of town. Almost in another time zone. Beware of someone who says "the parking lot fills up early, so let's get there just before sunrise". Like a lot of men, my body has to retrace all of the steps of evolution as it wakes up. This means that, as the alarm rings, I'm a one celled organism. I don't hit primate until after coffee. However, if you're going to run over seven miles, don't drink coffee beforehand. Not unless you plan to have your partner run around the restrooms while you go...multiple times. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">When I got there, there was a damn running club getting ready to take off into the pre-dawn twilight. All of them cheery, the bastards. I can only hope they were hit by a tour bus.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">It was cold, very very cold. Al Gore can take his global warming and shove it, someplace warm. As we started to run, I noticed that I was running on non-responsive lumps of frozen flesh that used to be feet. It's really nice to try and be graceful when the only feedback you have on your stride is "thunk", "thunk", "thunk".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">Of course my partner has the grace of a gazelle, even when frozen. I hate her. We soon crossed a patch where there was a sign stating that Mountain Lions were occasionally present. I was hoping for one, preferably one on a low fat diet; I'd be safe.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">After running 2 miles that were suspiciously mostly uphill, I get the statement, this is the last rest before we go uphill. Then I noticed her thighs. Power to weight ratio. I was about to be a dead man. Now I was simultaneously sweating and freezing; great, my body was schizophrenic. I'm halfway up a long, long hill and ,of course , she's way ahead of me. I notice this peculiar sound; much like a tea kettle. I realize that it is me wheezing. As I am dying, it occurs to me that Pike's Peak will be worse, much much worse. I'm a dead man.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">I get to the end of the road and she is patiently running loops, waiting. "Shall we add more ?" And we do. Up stairs, up a dirt trail, along wet slick rocks. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">I'll cut this short. I almost died. My life didn't just flash before my eyes; it played the full length, uncut version. Needless to say, somehow I survived to make it back to my computer. And I didn't drown her at the first bridge (not that I could've caught her). I must now train hills. Next Time.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">Oh yes; I had the time of my life.</span> <br />
<br />
Early December we had a business trip to Kauai, and on one of the days had enough time for a trail run (or so I thought). I had always wanted to do the 2 mile section of the Kalalau Trail to the 2 mile offshoot Hanakapi'ai Trail to the falls. Zac and I had hiked the 2 miles of the Kalalau Trail to the beach and back a few years ago, but didn't have time to do the falls. This time I was a much more experienced trail runner. <br />
<br />
The reviews of the trail on Yelp were interesting. "The image of the falls was so beautiful I cried," (Really?), "I should have worn sandals rather than my trail running shoes," (Um, ok), and my favorite, "Don't do this trail if it is wet! We had to spend the night out in the jungle with no food or water!" (Idiots. If I'm 8 miles from my car I'm hiking out no matter what, even if I have to crawl). <br />
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I had packed my Camelbak and filled it with water, along with my snacks. The DW carried nothing. "Too hard to run with water" he usually exclaims. We found a parking space at the popular trailhead and headed in. Forget that it was mid-afternoon when The DW and I started the run. We were going to get to the falls. Also forget that it was the rainy season on Kauai. The trail that was once dry was now covered with slick mud. Trail builders had tombstoned the trail with rock in the steep sections, which just turned slippery when rained on. A few sections of the trail at the beginning were dry, so we decided to run those. As we passed by people there were several comments, mostly reserved for The DW. People would just say "hi" to me, but have some sort of sympathetic comment for The DW, like I had forced him to be out there. <br />
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Certain parts of the trail were covered in wet rock, so we resorted to using our hands and feet to get over those sections. This resulted in us becoming quite muddy. At the first river crossing people were taking off their shoes to cross. I plunged in to use it as a chance to wash some of the mud off. Besides, my trail running shoes had been wet before. Gotta love the people afraid to get their feet wet. <br />
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The jungle became darker as we headed inland through bamboo and trees and endless stream crossings. Most of the time there were little orange flags tied to trees to find where to cross. The trail was highly technical, requiring climbing over boulders and hanging onto trees to get up hillsides. At least it <em>was</em> a trail. Once you've been through the jungle of Saipan on an XTERRA with no "trail" to follow your standards of what is a trail become lowered. In fact, I told The DW that I usually pay for such experiences. Add an ocean swim, a mountain bike ride on the first part of the trail, and this part of the trail as the run and you totally have an XTERRA quality course. <br />
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The number of people on the trail increased as we got closer to the falls. It required crossing the river several more times. At one point we caught up to an older guy who started to follow us. "I hope it's not that much further" he said. Turns out it was another half mile. We finally made our way to the bottom of the falls. When we got there it was kind of like "Yep, that's a waterfall." It was ok. Not really what we'd describe as "magnificent," and we didn't cry. Most people had planned to swim in the pool below, but with the clouds overhead and the water cooling on the 200 ft descent, the water was too cold for many. We took a brief rest on the boulders below and I offered The DW some of my water, which he finally agreed to take, only after I showed him how to work a Camelbak bite valve. A college kid full of way too much testosterone had climbed half way up the cliff next to the falls, and we were waiting to see if he was going to jump or fall. Nothing happened as he just sat there, so we decided to turn around. <br />
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We passed by the older guy sitting on the rocks eating an apple. "You made it" I said. "Yeah, but the trip back out is gonna be tough" he said. He wasn't in very good shape, and I could tell he was going to be going slower on the trip out than the trip in. The DW and I re-traced our steps along the trail and crossed the river endless times. We were racing the sun back. <br />
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We hit the beach with 2 miles left to go. I stopped to wash the caked mud off my legs in the river crossing, while a couple asked The DW if the trip to the falls was worth it. This couple would then turn into the most annoying couple on the trail. They wouldn't let us pass, and kept varying their speed. Finally, with a mile left we decided to start running and smoke them, despite the slippery rocks. We got back to the rental car just as the sun was going down. The DW consumed all drinkable liquids in the car and the drinking fountain at the restrooms. We then began our search for food. It took forever to cross the quiant little bridges when all we wanted was food. I started getting quiet, slipping into my "lack of food coma." I literally closed my eyes for part of the trip. At one point I opened them and spotted a Brickoven Pizza. "Turn here!" I yelled. "Park here!" "I've got to call my wife..." The DW said, but I was already out of the car before it reached a stop. I ran inside, grabbed seating for two, and made the path of least resistance to sustenance. I told the waitress 2 iced teas and 2 buffets as I grabbed a buffet plate. The DW walked in to the restaurant. "We're sitting over there and you're eating the buffet and drinking iced tea" I said. Thankfully he was fine with that and understood my mood when exhausted and lacking in calories. We downed caffeine, carbs, and salt, and once we were a bit more cheery as the food hit our systems we joked that the old guy with the apple was still out there on the trail, probably having to spend the night. I should check Yelp to see if he wrote a review. <br />
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<strong><span style="color: #0b5394;">The runners diary - from Hell (looks Like Eden - it isn't)</span></strong> <br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">Ok. By now you probably have the idea that I am in over my head. This would be an understatement; like saying that the saber tooth tiger sinking into the tar pit was in over his head. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">Never, ever go on a run with a trail runner if she describes the run as "technical". "Technical" is a polite euphemism for "Jesus Christ! I'm gonna die!". Technical describes climbing out of Lucifer's pit, on hands and knees, across burning coals. Ok, you've been warned. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">We were in Kauai on business. She brings up the fact that there is this four mile trail into a very beautiful waterfall. It starts where the road around the island ends. the end of the world ! Are you reading what I'm writing ? Why does the road end there ? Because it's too difficult to go any further. Also, beware of any conversation where an experienced trail runner nonchalantly says "It's humid, I'm going to bring water". This should cause every alarm bell you possess to go off; expect mummified bodies along the trail. But alas, I am foolish and eagerly agree (like a lamb to the slaughter).</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">We park the car at the end of the world (oops meant to say road); ready to begin our "technical" run. She has on a backback filled with water (***warning***); I naively have a bottle of vitamin water that I leave in the car because "I'll probably be thirsty when we finish". Much later, it will be the thought of this bottle that will sustain my only hopes of survival.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">We start up the path, ready to run the 4 miles to the waterfall, observe it's beauty, and run back. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">Soon, all too soon, the grade steepens, and slickens. Imagine the dietrus from hundreds of years of decaying vegetation suddenly getting wet; and adhering to the rocks; like slime.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">My running partner points out "these are tombstone rocks covered with mud, it's probably better when they're dry". No shit ? We're talking about black slime with the consistency of 10-40W motor oil. Step wrong and you'll be kissing the rocks. A 15% grade. Slick. 3.95 miles to go. I'm going to die.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">We pass a woman headed down with her arm in a sling. A fresh sling. My partner is still cheery. "I'd hate to be her headed down those rocks wit my arm in a sling". Where up ahead does she think that said arm encountered said sling ?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">We find dry road and begin to run. People are shouting their encouragement and pity? to me. Looks like she has you on a mission (?). Good luck !</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">We reach a river crossing. Swift water. She steps into a rather deep part to get around a couple in front of us. I follow; up to mid thigh. "you do realize that I can't swim ?" Answer "Oh I forgot. I hate being behind slow people". Apparently, she hates being in front of people who are still breathing.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">As we proceed, there is more mud (lots more); and river crossings (6, but whose counting).</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">My favorite recollection is being on a 45 degree rock face and losing my footing. When in doubt, sit down. I catch myself with my feet dangling over a precipice; sitting in the mud. I get up to run and catch up (by now she's a hundred yards in front of me). I pass a family ("daddy, that man is all covered in mud"). I catch up to my partner. "Did you fall ?".</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">We break into the clearing with the falls. It's anticlimactic. Sure, it's beautiful, but the real thrill is getting there, alive, while following one of the best trail runners that you know.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">I won't burden you with the tail of how we made it out. Suffice it to say that we did. I will admit to whining : "Can I have some water ?" And the all too gracious reply "sure. I told you so." During the last 2 miles, the only thing that kept me alive was borrowed water and the thought of the vitamin water that I had left in the car.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">In retrospect, I made it. But, I wouldn't have tried without my partner; and I certainly wouldn't have finished without her help.</span><br />
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And this is how the Age vs. Beauty Grudge Match has begun. The Pike's Peak Ascent is in August, so we have 8 more months of training to go.Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-73902250481563749362011-12-19T10:49:00.000-08:002011-12-19T10:49:23.885-08:00My summit of the Agua Caliente Hill<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I've been wanting to summit the Agua Caliente Hill trail for quite some time, ever since we moved to NE Tucson about 4 years ago. For those that aren't familiar with the hill, it is the hill between the Catalina and Rincon mountains. The trailhead is exactly 2 miles from my house, and I often run the first mile or so of the trail in the middle of my usual running route. The summit is 4.5 miles from the trailhead, and I had been as far as 3.5 miles into the trail. Previous attempts to summit failed due to others in my traveling party. My brother petered out around mile 3.5, and on a later trip Zac gave up on me, claiming blisters at mile 3. So, to summit I would have to do it on my own.</div>
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Currently, the TTG December Runathon is going on. I have always wanted to summit this trail as part of the Runathon, and this year I decided to do it. Previous years I didn't plan as well. Last year I didn't run much before December and the increased mileage of December caused some pain in my heel. This year I came into the Runathon with a good base of running behind me. The weather was supposed to move in on Sunday, so I chose Saturday, December 17th as my day to run the trail.</div>
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The trail alone is 9 miles. I could drive the 2 miles to the trailhead, or leave from my front door to make it 13 miles and a half marathon. Front door it is! I loaded up my hydration pack with water and snacks, tied a windbreaker to it, stashed the cell phone and camera in the pack, ate 4 of Leslie's snickerdoodle cookies as my last meal, and wrote on the fridge whiteboard "Left for ACH at 12:20 PM" as a note to Zac. With that I walked out my front door and started my Garmin.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><em>(All photos can be clicked on to enlarge).</em></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzxFf4E_3HkMd_thHE7LyWWCf7bE3VMIkDMZg96ckIEe6AMEplzqKwzR_qyVZu5KN4BKqMTGyB-cL5JHsgnFyY1YrsTfTYUthy62SFwxFkmd_xnFjqxpJJE_8CCpVuEia6FchudQS0MKY/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzxFf4E_3HkMd_thHE7LyWWCf7bE3VMIkDMZg96ckIEe6AMEplzqKwzR_qyVZu5KN4BKqMTGyB-cL5JHsgnFyY1YrsTfTYUthy62SFwxFkmd_xnFjqxpJJE_8CCpVuEia6FchudQS0MKY/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Thankfully, my house is round and with a reflective copper roof it is easy to find from various points on the trail. As I trotted up Ft. Lowell at an easy pace, I took this picture of the mountain, my destination for the entire day.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDBvNE97S6eEovTLh_X34OvVXkVues7BaYNzT8huZV1Pb8LZiBynuG7L5-FjZkfSuNE4Bq5lAUflVZICM1f_wfk15EBm4YVq_y2ehtO4iLZSUMfiaSQsDXGMTy207mzveFSiQUR_-LEsA/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDBvNE97S6eEovTLh_X34OvVXkVues7BaYNzT8huZV1Pb8LZiBynuG7L5-FjZkfSuNE4Bq5lAUflVZICM1f_wfk15EBm4YVq_y2ehtO4iLZSUMfiaSQsDXGMTy207mzveFSiQUR_-LEsA/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I kept the first 2 miles on the road nice and easy. There were a few cars in the parking lot of the trailhead as I ran up to the gate. I looked at my Garmin: 2.1 miles at the gate. With that I started the trail. The trail starts out easy for only a few yards, then immediately begins to climb. One has to step over several water bars in the first mile because of the grade. This is my least favorite section of water bars. They are so tall that I have to really step high to get over them.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ls6FoYAMDB9yCvoqENUdkGowTlrLrTFgkzDP2sjHPCQ9dHOJfj3UAhWUM3PTrzlZM0n4WORWKbTmnNsMduY_M3uzdS295PhSQjvnTbWiW2aWHUxAKgz2SeSW9pOZj-t-NcsZGbDT5b8/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ls6FoYAMDB9yCvoqENUdkGowTlrLrTFgkzDP2sjHPCQ9dHOJfj3UAhWUM3PTrzlZM0n4WORWKbTmnNsMduY_M3uzdS295PhSQjvnTbWiW2aWHUxAKgz2SeSW9pOZj-t-NcsZGbDT5b8/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+009.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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This is the view from only a quarter mile into the trail. My house is down there somewhere. The horses can't step up the steep water bar section, hence the marker for a side trail which I call "Pony Bypass", which is a short section of a single switchback.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2FQNUmCoWv8UHyXhAuq_AIe23x-HUqEVraBpXaawJzuxEcCAo5zSmp73OU3wU5I0NCIGxUHhpc4H2TRSGMEEK_2vGPVHbwDpw76FO6GT8Yi1Tp16SdEz6vI_qXu-2gCpjkDCHxSfoKy8/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2FQNUmCoWv8UHyXhAuq_AIe23x-HUqEVraBpXaawJzuxEcCAo5zSmp73OU3wU5I0NCIGxUHhpc4H2TRSGMEEK_2vGPVHbwDpw76FO6GT8Yi1Tp16SdEz6vI_qXu-2gCpjkDCHxSfoKy8/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+010.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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About a mile into the run and a view of the mountains ahead I have yet to climb.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFtkYQ9ttGUYKkZI7WMwATDMEuy_z2_9t-Z5x1Tjwe-7aRX3MTVEJTAAGiUYJp2zq-1XDNoiuoF3mNFYqL03CdZn4JayuIHxlMSNbJ96l1zxz1wYcl5CclAzo7odW8pJVTHIaE2lZMvRY/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFtkYQ9ttGUYKkZI7WMwATDMEuy_z2_9t-Z5x1Tjwe-7aRX3MTVEJTAAGiUYJp2zq-1XDNoiuoF3mNFYqL03CdZn4JayuIHxlMSNbJ96l1zxz1wYcl5CclAzo7odW8pJVTHIaE2lZMvRY/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+011.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Self shot, proof that I'm out there running.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZvTIzEwz2Ixz0b-opdjcyp2PvIW1ESZkzWD6BEhyphenhyphen7nTtmSrGoBae1bh8xLPozUmGdzoZ4H3DEqE8VIzBTnv0G1-2YDtONz_tK7L3UYd6A_xH1qPNWZUfrJXZq1uY2IdzIQEnsSKxR438/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZvTIzEwz2Ixz0b-opdjcyp2PvIW1ESZkzWD6BEhyphenhyphen7nTtmSrGoBae1bh8xLPozUmGdzoZ4H3DEqE8VIzBTnv0G1-2YDtONz_tK7L3UYd6A_xH1qPNWZUfrJXZq1uY2IdzIQEnsSKxR438/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+012.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Looking out over Tucson, about 1.5 miles into the trail.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOVVeARkTy9pXiI6Yd0AkJsKP_zQUociMDzZK9Oygect2mWPHq5U902MCo7vesw8TzX3slBD0ytc6_EsM_KoCaHDRLfUk1kjQ2ocFz65HdO3r-cqCDnw4yGs0GETpCk9bI8aA3VVCy0IU/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOVVeARkTy9pXiI6Yd0AkJsKP_zQUociMDzZK9Oygect2mWPHq5U902MCo7vesw8TzX3slBD0ytc6_EsM_KoCaHDRLfUk1kjQ2ocFz65HdO3r-cqCDnw4yGs0GETpCk9bI8aA3VVCy0IU/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+013.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Agua Caliente hill is known as one of Tucson's best false summits. Everyone thinks that the summit is the grassy knob that appears as the highest point to the left. It's not. The true summit lies behind it, about another mile.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1iBJxWiRnQh7MKWfk56p90DhFDyNMdrTyT8lZtC_zc9rUz45YPvldgkoYnk4IFeZmA7oEcrhffGBBktmxNAq9EUAMRaD3Zo2UCiqBQcJYQ48k-X1RgnEGplAhV3cprh4ua_FWq7lYEfU/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1iBJxWiRnQh7MKWfk56p90DhFDyNMdrTyT8lZtC_zc9rUz45YPvldgkoYnk4IFeZmA7oEcrhffGBBktmxNAq9EUAMRaD3Zo2UCiqBQcJYQ48k-X1RgnEGplAhV3cprh4ua_FWq7lYEfU/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+014.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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About 2 miles in I reached the pond, "Cat Track Tank." The pond has been bone dry the last few times I've run to this point, so it was nice to see some water. A few springs ago it was nice and full and the ducks had moved in, so hopefully with all of this rain the pond will fill again and the ducks will return. You can see the trail skirts along the right side and leads up to the saddle in the distance.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp3Kk4lyf_68B_KlWlpwuTI6jC8Kk0g0BbWtx5S7biwBKEl2Lc8oQRObgXnyE-DKv8FNUuiR4vD8s8Xn3PdlbdowPCdGHd6LhPA_tUwYMi3QNWwhFf-9QyGBbDE1Kuy_LeTFKZ2mmM-qI/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp3Kk4lyf_68B_KlWlpwuTI6jC8Kk0g0BbWtx5S7biwBKEl2Lc8oQRObgXnyE-DKv8FNUuiR4vD8s8Xn3PdlbdowPCdGHd6LhPA_tUwYMi3QNWwhFf-9QyGBbDE1Kuy_LeTFKZ2mmM-qI/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+015.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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As I climbed the saddle, the sun came out. Tons of saguaros in this area. </div>
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A hawk was circling overhead, landing on the saguaros.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4OcVMegQlUKQopKWdSJPHh7FdbB38l4QTqA9EeL8fg7opi4OQFgaQiJDajisHjiO8WJHzSjOXGSMKRt1SP_ugkVPK6mQBu9pwTjQHgAHhMP11Qq2TqxT2v_-st1ROl3gzk9_9GGx8CS8/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4OcVMegQlUKQopKWdSJPHh7FdbB38l4QTqA9EeL8fg7opi4OQFgaQiJDajisHjiO8WJHzSjOXGSMKRt1SP_ugkVPK6mQBu9pwTjQHgAHhMP11Qq2TqxT2v_-st1ROl3gzk9_9GGx8CS8/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+024.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Once you reach the saddle, it's the first point at which you can look over onto the Catalina side. This is where FR #4445 intersects the trail.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA6aLXMZtXhaUMg-viGUm8Rb3AJHGwX2ExgZq1Xrbpo6uAP2ky7JjXhbPwukgs8dAwEZwi-KUrSZK6n30-rEoT345ma_sgQl612A9Z5LafasjEFyzMEnd5x4Zz_uwkVX0KATKjeydk6bg/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA6aLXMZtXhaUMg-viGUm8Rb3AJHGwX2ExgZq1Xrbpo6uAP2ky7JjXhbPwukgs8dAwEZwi-KUrSZK6n30-rEoT345ma_sgQl612A9Z5LafasjEFyzMEnd5x4Zz_uwkVX0KATKjeydk6bg/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+026.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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At this point, the summit is still 1.5 miles away. Most start the climb here and think it's the grassy knob, but the summit is the section of dark trees behind it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0CyjDODLMK8GfMqUjsHiTAouiB14uyUrjVhIsX1nepi_Rd8_ou69i4Cd-HCpArz7J492zpG8-2MfpIWIfZYiHLhPrOUEipDza7079s2nku1tyKrETtyGTEoBtj4mGxte4205wMfLOqJk/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0CyjDODLMK8GfMqUjsHiTAouiB14uyUrjVhIsX1nepi_Rd8_ou69i4Cd-HCpArz7J492zpG8-2MfpIWIfZYiHLhPrOUEipDza7079s2nku1tyKrETtyGTEoBtj4mGxte4205wMfLOqJk/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+028.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is at the top of the grassy knob, and the section of trail that skirts alongside of it. Nice, easy running here.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV7z2vwiIaJIWM1GnnO4lCs2OO3ZCH8CbmW3n6tsOfUYVs71u4AblePUNKal63ZdznnsJpyc2W5TkQWRngfvP5JbClxnBzPZVW87z8p1dJCW_A8g6hPW-zfjL9BwVu3kUZPIMu30ZNWIw/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV7z2vwiIaJIWM1GnnO4lCs2OO3ZCH8CbmW3n6tsOfUYVs71u4AblePUNKal63ZdznnsJpyc2W5TkQWRngfvP5JbClxnBzPZVW87z8p1dJCW_A8g6hPW-zfjL9BwVu3kUZPIMu30ZNWIw/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+031.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Proof that I'm still running at this point. Snow on the Catalinas behind me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINtPIDI1SXnl-YG6SGI54SdhZOksPTVlKEp8LzpZ0UUZcnKedaq-T4aVW8PedY3qN_BAUiEvjLsrIoJiVBiPet2LnratFinYOdxzMbQecJXj8opM096wvbjS6QxpDfG7r6sO3FA-05Xw/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINtPIDI1SXnl-YG6SGI54SdhZOksPTVlKEp8LzpZ0UUZcnKedaq-T4aVW8PedY3qN_BAUiEvjLsrIoJiVBiPet2LnratFinYOdxzMbQecJXj8opM096wvbjS6QxpDfG7r6sO3FA-05Xw/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+032.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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And here's the view on the climb up the summit, looking back at the grassy knob.<br />
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I've wandered the trails on this side of the Catalinas.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrJ6hLhsdPPsa5CwJ87L5EA6Ci8LEObQdTddrDmXkuaoQ-73YZVU9d3RIfpk2yplGsPfQkQMuSP9PvNmjzpJjYWzcQcG_0rp9lGTp2U-AIrLOgNFWWfqpio6U6MSWUld1gyTimWvEISoo/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrJ6hLhsdPPsa5CwJ87L5EA6Ci8LEObQdTddrDmXkuaoQ-73YZVU9d3RIfpk2yplGsPfQkQMuSP9PvNmjzpJjYWzcQcG_0rp9lGTp2U-AIrLOgNFWWfqpio6U6MSWUld1gyTimWvEISoo/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+036.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Finally I reached the summit! 6.62 miles from home, 2 hours and 10 minutes, and 3000 ft total climbed to get to the top at 5300 ft.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_BMxIq28izUhMg0-NX3-4K3EJqhNHNqe0y2cJqVuP0zmKQudUrq05AJYqj4gazbk5ORljcV9xREiY11CL85Kl3XmAa6ubmYKYBEDuwZAEvtsvdjkHoQzHQh5GCBmiXTPRhIY3PBO7cC0/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_BMxIq28izUhMg0-NX3-4K3EJqhNHNqe0y2cJqVuP0zmKQudUrq05AJYqj4gazbk5ORljcV9xREiY11CL85Kl3XmAa6ubmYKYBEDuwZAEvtsvdjkHoQzHQh5GCBmiXTPRhIY3PBO7cC0/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+037.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Here's the 360 degree view from the top. The Catalinas, where you can see the road winding up.<br />
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East side of the Catalinas.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ea7ze_zvvWrX2bgXRugyQSf7ib9fg30eGprj52hpSN6T8gzLJ3ady8urBchoXr_S7TBc90kJZxT5jAcgTzjlCcxCX_8z6kP3v7hF3PMwGR73ObaXnThAmzIkjGA9Gm1k9ZbwEOpYR94/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ea7ze_zvvWrX2bgXRugyQSf7ib9fg30eGprj52hpSN6T8gzLJ3ady8urBchoXr_S7TBc90kJZxT5jAcgTzjlCcxCX_8z6kP3v7hF3PMwGR73ObaXnThAmzIkjGA9Gm1k9ZbwEOpYR94/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+039.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Off in the far distance to the east the Galiuro and Winchester Mountains. Rincons to the far right.<br />
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Snow on the Rincon Mountains.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAFM7zNG8T9v1bL7baK6fQ7JYH_-_aA-Gu0VWvyNOjfEuMEIZxlWuSnNAKiI559nzEZtrEdJ7RTUstHLGm8j5nuddlq8JP2T0tyvd3Q96HlToWVmXgVkeUZO4gKNJHBT1oNgAXS2QK14Q/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAFM7zNG8T9v1bL7baK6fQ7JYH_-_aA-Gu0VWvyNOjfEuMEIZxlWuSnNAKiI559nzEZtrEdJ7RTUstHLGm8j5nuddlq8JP2T0tyvd3Q96HlToWVmXgVkeUZO4gKNJHBT1oNgAXS2QK14Q/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+042.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Rincon Mountains and Saguaro National Park. Redington Rd is the ribbon of dirt road down below.<br />
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Saguaro National Park and back to Tucson.<br />
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At the summit there is a geodetic marker, which I had to take a picture of with my foot.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Sug3f8bA2IW9R-xl3bKEdfnTwGVB6DL_Y-gT0truvLqcRkrORjXaocSQVJgy1sbqRHShTUd4cfB45J4hyphenhyphenu4UP_SpOJ7amADeZFry4O6rp8lWQhS2bNYmCXEfg1eUo_6KMzdl_mbHbNU/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Sug3f8bA2IW9R-xl3bKEdfnTwGVB6DL_Y-gT0truvLqcRkrORjXaocSQVJgy1sbqRHShTUd4cfB45J4hyphenhyphenu4UP_SpOJ7amADeZFry4O6rp8lWQhS2bNYmCXEfg1eUo_6KMzdl_mbHbNU/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+047.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJ6ekju2Uh_Tn38-oXTDJUlPmpOhnWt-YmId96ZCTs55k_6YNE3lUlhTomIOyEJ6fJJFGQn3Op2r28eqllB75vWaCwjXh8Qw9U0VltmZ1VM9ogYrYAf9sIN-zsbDOTrMweLD-HYq902M/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJ6ekju2Uh_Tn38-oXTDJUlPmpOhnWt-YmId96ZCTs55k_6YNE3lUlhTomIOyEJ6fJJFGQn3Op2r28eqllB75vWaCwjXh8Qw9U0VltmZ1VM9ogYrYAf9sIN-zsbDOTrMweLD-HYq902M/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+046.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Proof that I was at the top.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDTfn1PIJcWJPz59Nyt4GKCBKoOJE1Ba4JEfBs_WtrauCnJy0CAX-satEcK6kJlm31HwWyQV_d94YB92L7KArRh7i5IZJ_3uI2w_4kc-DcaZ75Q96tjGV5rbnrbshaViZxvPbhWzk9UL4/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDTfn1PIJcWJPz59Nyt4GKCBKoOJE1Ba4JEfBs_WtrauCnJy0CAX-satEcK6kJlm31HwWyQV_d94YB92L7KArRh7i5IZJ_3uI2w_4kc-DcaZ75Q96tjGV5rbnrbshaViZxvPbhWzk9UL4/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+048.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Buried in a pile of rocks is a mason jar with several small notebooks and pencils inside. People that reach the top write notes to mark they were there. With all of the technology of today it's still fun to follow low-tech documentation techniques in remote areas. However, I included today's technology by texting a few people from the summit, and updating my facebook status. I figure the time stamp helps search parties reduce the radius in which to search.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAaudU1KQBD-CTto-wUCw3ZH4T_ccABSkXq_7PAxUYpTleDT81mib-Bs2KSGhn2Hxn61wrRxCL_6RnF96y00jpaDjTJ4imHxQEcKpxAVlIYobU-Fndd_JOlu4NYGETS3yoFNJwu3QKYMg/s1600/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAaudU1KQBD-CTto-wUCw3ZH4T_ccABSkXq_7PAxUYpTleDT81mib-Bs2KSGhn2Hxn61wrRxCL_6RnF96y00jpaDjTJ4imHxQEcKpxAVlIYobU-Fndd_JOlu4NYGETS3yoFNJwu3QKYMg/s320/Agua+Caliente+Hill+summit+050.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I found the latest entry and wrote mine. No inspiring words. I pretty much stated the obvious.<br />
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One last final view of Tucson down below before heading back down. I could still see my house from here, a bright little triangle.<br />
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As I headed down the trail, the clouds of the impeding storm front started moving in, causing rays of sunlight to cast down on Tucson like a theatrical spotlight show.</div>
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Up on the grassy knob as I headed down, the contrast was such that it was easy to see the sections of singletrack trail through the hills that led back home.<br />
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Act 2 of the spotlight show.<br />
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This photo is significant for a few reasons. 1) I was exactly 4 miles from home and at this point ran out of water. 2) This section of trail is rocky, causing one to look down a lot. I glanced up at at this moment right in front of me I found my house. It was perfectly in view in line with the trail. Straight ahead there is a dead saguaro with a curvy arm. Below the curvy arm and just to the right of the straight saguaro is a faint triangle. That's my house! So at this point I wasn't too worried about being out of water.<br />
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Looking back at the grassy knob and trail I had traveled as the sun cascaded over the hills. I was now part of the spotlight show.<br />
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What a typical rocky climb on the trail looks like. Hence the long travel time.<br />
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About a mile from the trailhead the sun started to set. I was racing the sun home.<br />
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Lower in elevation, one last look at the sunset before I headed down to the pavement below.<br />
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In the last half mile of trail I passed several trail users coming up the trail, obviously out for shorter jaunts. It was nice knowing I had finally covered the entire trail and been to the very top. I hit pavement and enjoyed the last 2 miles home, grateful for flat pavement and easy footing. I walked in the front door at 5:30 PM, just as the sun had almost set. 13.24 miles, 4 hours and 7 minutes of running, 3000 ft of climbing, all from my front door.</div>Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-35934133236464921042011-03-18T20:21:00.000-07:002011-03-18T20:25:58.178-07:00I am the cruise director.I am the ultimate planner. At the beginning of the year, all vacation time is allocated down to the hour on where I'm going to go for the year. I plan down to the level of what campground we are going to stay at for which nights. Often this works well because I discover things like the campgrounds for California go on sale in January, and you have to be online in order to get a high-demand spot, such as a waterfront campground at Lake Tahoe in July. Some of my friends have discovered how I plan everything, and follow along, which is how I've become the cruise director of vacations involving races and events.<br />
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As part of corporate training, we are given the <a href="http://www.true-colors.com/index.html">True Colors</a> assessment. Four colors represent personality styles. They are pretty detailed, but I'll provide my summary: orange = adventurous, spur-of-the-moment funseekers; yellow = organized planners; green = thoughtful & scientific; blue = touchy feely emotional people. I remember taking this test back in middle school. Back then I was mostly green, because I loved my science classes, which is how I eventually became an engineer. I recently took the test again, and my colors had changed. Can you guess what the primary color was? Yellow? Ha! Wrong! My dominant color is orange, followed closely by yellow, then green, and my lowest score was blue (really, really low on blue). It fits pretty well because I'm the spontaneous type that thinks of crazy adventures on the spur of the moment, but then I go into the crazy planning mode to figure out how to make it work and become reality. Green would be my engineering side, and the lowest score of blue means I don't give a damn how anyone feels. Please don't cry in front of me...it's really, really awkward. ;)<br />
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Recently my cruise director skills were put to the test. When I go on travel for work to someplace interesting, I often try to find a race or event in the area to do on the weekend before or after the week of work. This is how I ended up doing the King of the Hill XTERRA in NJ last year. I was in Boston for work the week before, then drove down to NJ with my bike to do the XTERRA that just happened to be the weekend after. In the first week of April, I'll be going to Washington DC for a final training session for work and graduation from the class. There is always a ton of stuff to do in DC, so museums were obviously on my list. But then I started Googling. It turns out the first week of April is right when the cherry blossoms are in bloom, and seeing the cherry blossom festival is something I would love to do. As I read about the festival, I found out that it is really popular, and hundreds of thousands of tourists flock to the area to see the flowers on the trees. This is a bit of a bummer because I don't do crowds. Crowds are full of idiot people that frustrate me with their stupid actions, so I avoid them.<br />
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But wait! There was a glimmer of hope. I started looking at sites like <a href="http://runningintheusa.com/">RunningInTheUSA.com</a>, and there is a <a href="http://www.cherryblossom.org/">Cherry Blossom 10 mile run</a> the first weekend of April in DC. They shut down the streets for the race, and the course follows the cherry blossom trees. I could do the race, and only have to deal with a couple thousand runners instead of hundreds of thousands of idiot tourists! Now, I'm not one to really follow running races. I know the Boston Marathon is a big deal, and Badwater is a stupid hard event, but that's about it. Well, I guess this race is very popular because as soon as I checked out the race site, it said the race had sold out AFTER people were given lottery slots. Great. Lottery means crazy hard race to get into. But I kept researching, and it just so happends that for the month of February only, the race allows for bib numbers to be transferred. You have to find a racer that doesn't want their bib, send them money to reimburse them for the entry fee, they release their bib to you online, and you go in and pay a $12.50 transfer fee. So how do you find the racers with the bibs up for sale? Well, the race site has a message board with people pleading to take numbers off other racer's hands. The message board was quite the scene with people offering up chocolate chip cookies, sob stories of death and disease, or people wanting to run the race to propose to someone at the finish line. Crap. I was just looking for a fun race to do in the local area before I had to head to a week of corporate training. How was I supposed to compete with the tug-at-the-heart stories?<br />
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It was a gamble, but I kept an eye on the message board. Suddenly there was a post by a gal named Sarah, and I decided to pull the trigger and email her for her bib that she was offering for sale. As soon as I emailed her, I saw the sharks had smelled the blood in the water and there were 3 or 4 posts asking for the bib. I waited for a reply. Nothing by the end of the evening before I went to bed. I figured I was out and one of the sharks got it. But the next morning I had an email from Sarah. I had been the first to respond so the bib was mine if I wanted it. Happy happy orange! Time for yellow! I hit the credit union an hour later and had the check in the mail to her that afternoon.<br />
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The check arrived to Sarah at the end of the week, and on a Friday she released her number. The race sent me an email that said I had 72 hours to claim the bib. This is where owning a Droid makes it all worth it, because at that point in time I was in the middle of the desert at the 24 Hours of the Old Pueblo mountain bike race. I caught the email in time and filled out the entire race transfer form on my phone and successfully got in the race! Had I waited until after the race on Monday when I was sitting in front of my computer, I would have missed the window. Thank you Droid!<br />
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I'm now entered into the Cherry Blossom 10 Mile run. The next steps involved setting up all flights, transportation, and hotels for the 2 weeks of travel. I have the entire itinerary in a Word document down to the metro stops that I need to take to get around. I'm not going to share that on the blog because it would reveal how truly crazy I am about the planning, and I don't think we know each other well enough for that. ;) And of course I still have all the museums planned that I want to see. For the race I have no set time goal for the run. Rather, I'm just there to do a really fun event and see the cherry trees. I'm planning on taking my camera to take pics while in the race. I have to maintain at least a 14 minute mile to reach the time cutoff, and I think I can handle that no problem even with carrying my small camera and taking pics. :) So stay tuned for the race report and cherry tree pics. The race is April 3rd!Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-10355501030124370862011-01-11T18:50:00.000-08:002011-01-11T18:51:43.889-08:00Final Runathon and Experimental ResultsThis is how Week 5 of the Runathon ended:<br />
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Sun, 12/26 - Up the Ft. Lowell trail and back. 2.54 miles.<br />
Mon, 12/27 - Ran the AZ Trail from the Pistol Hill trailhead to the picnic area and back with Ryan The Boulder. 6.25 miles.<br />
Tues, 12/28; Wed, 12/29; Thurs, 12/30 - All of these were on the Ft. Lowell Trail. 2.56, 2.59, 2.60 miles.<br />
Fri, 12/31 - I noticed that I was 4.22 miles from reaching 110 miles for the month, so I decided to run that amount to finish out the year.<br />
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Total Week 5 miles = 20.76 miles<br />
Total Runathon = 110 miles<br />
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The following day I did the Egg Nog Jog 5K to see if my 5K time changed from the beginning of the runathon. My initial 5K time was 27:08, for an average of 8:45 min/mile. The morning of the Egg Nog Jog was crazy cold at 29 degrees. My hands completely froze. It got to the point that I couldn't concentrate on running anymore because my hands were in so much pain from the cold. I finished the 5K, looked down at my watch, and the time was 26:26 (8:23 min/mile average)! My PR for a 5K was 26:19, so I was only 7 seconds off. I blame the cold and my hands being in pain. So increasing my run volume definitely had an effect on my 5K time. That was with no speed work, no track workouts, and not running with people way faster than me.<br />
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Time to re-visit my goals for the Runathon:<br />
<strong>1.Run everyday in December, a minimum of 2 miles each run.</strong> Done!<br />
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<strong>2.Do a trail run at least once a week.</strong> Done! I even ran a different trail as my trail run each week.<br />
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<strong>3.Egg Nog Jog 5K faster than 2008's. Beat last year's time of 26:19 (8:25 min/mile average).</strong> Oh so close! But I did beat my 5K time from before the runathon this year, so I think that's good.<br />
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<strong>4.Run to the summit of Agua Caliente Hill and back.</strong> I had to skip this one because of the pain in my heel and arch. But I'll be getting there someday! <br />
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So that's the end of the December Runathon. I'm glad because now I'm ready to get back on my bike. :)Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-3439290661795077322010-12-31T09:49:00.000-08:002010-12-31T09:49:35.668-08:00Runathon Week 4This week I started having pain in my left heel. This is never a good sign, and I really don't want to come down with plantar fasciitis. So on the days my heel really hurt I rolled it and iced it, and then reduced the run volume this week. I also ran mostly dirt trails. Normally I would take time off from running, but I figured I would slowly step down the volume and see if I could hang on to the Runathon.<br />
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Sun, 12/19 - Did a square route run with Zac. Ft. Lowell, Fennimore, TV, Soldier Trail. 3.27 miles.<br />
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Mon, 12/20 - Very slow run, because I was super tired. Basically tried to run as slow as possible to fake a rest day. 2.50 miles.<br />
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Tues, 12/21 - Tried some new trails right by the Clements rec center with Ryan The Boulder. All sorts of cool XC trails out there, and even a nature trail with a gravel path. We kept flushing out the coyotes. 3.66 miles.<br />
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Wed, 12/22 - Phoneline trail run in Sabino Canyon with Ryan The Boulder. 5.21 miles.<br />
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Thurs, 12/23 - Super easy run around the paved loop at Clements with Ryan The Boulder. 2.80 miles.<br />
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Fri, 12/24 - Tried a new trail that goes right behind Leslie's house, but it petered out. 2.59 miles.<br />
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Sat, 12/25 - Easy run up the Ft. Lowell trail on Xmas morning. 2.52 miles.<br />
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Total Week 4 miles = 22.55 miles<br />
Total Runathon to date = 89.25 milesWrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-84050363901248862962010-12-18T14:44:00.000-08:002010-12-18T15:02:40.872-08:00Runathon Week 3So I felt bad about doing just barely above the minimum required 2 miles per day for most of Week 2. So this week the pendulum swung the other way and I went a bit overboard. Part of it was trying to find new routes to run to keep it interesting and mix it up a bit.<br /><br />Sun, 12/12 - Somehow I convinced Zac to go with me and do our normal running route of running up Ft. Lowell to the traihead, then the spare parking lot, and back home. We did have a terrific sunset, which caused us to break into song. If anyone in the neighborhood was wondering who was singing Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire," it was us. 4.60 miles.<br /><br />Mon, 12/13 - Easy, bare minimum run. This one was to Leslie's house and back at 5:30 in the morning. I've run past her house a lot this month. Thankfully she has bright lights out front. Her neighbors seem to like to be stealthy and dark. Only a few Christmas lights on the street to keep me entertained. 2.55 miles.<br /><br />Tues, 12/14 - I met up with Ryan The Boulder and we did our usual morning run route of running along the Irvington utility trail to the Fantasy Island fenceline trail and back. Both of us were spotting our brand new headlamps. Do not look directly into the beam! We also discovered a new V-gate to the north entrance to Fantasy Island. Unfortunatley it is constructed out of barbed wire and not smooth wire, so we had to be extra careful going through the gate. 5.10 miles.<br /><br />Wed, 12/15 - This was my crazy "Let's mix it up" run. Ryan The Boulder and I met up at 5:30 AM and ran the first part of the Saguaro East paved loop to the north Cactus Forest Trailhead. We then ran the Cactus Forest Trail through the middle of the paved loop, and then the extra 1.5 miles that takes you back to Old Spanish Trail. It was cold and dark, and I had a spectacular trip, which I saved before hitting the ground or plowing into cactus. We also saw some sort of bushy tailed animal by the trail, and our guess was that it was a stray dog. Anyways, this was my trail run for the week. 8.02 miles!<br /><br />Thurs, 12/16 - After two longer runs in a row, I was determined to keep today's run low-mileage. Ryan The Boulder and I just did 40 min up the Irvington utility trail, then back. 3.26 miles.<br /><br />Fri, 12/17 - Waited for the sun to come up, then Zac and I ran up Soldier trail and around Agua Caliente Park before heading back home. Knees and legs were still tired. 3.98 miles.<br /><br />Sat, 12/18 - Easy solo run up the Ft. Lowell trail to Melpomene and back. I saw an odd sight on my run. A guy was "walking" 4 dogs. Except he was riding a quad and had attached a bar to the front with 4 eyelets where the leashes attached. So as he drove the quad the dogs ran in front with their leashes attached to the bar. I have no idea how they executed turns. 2.52 miles.<br /><br />Total Week 3 miles = 30.03 miles<br />Total Runathon miles to date = 66.7 miles<br /><br />Week 3 means we are over the half way point in the runathon. But I have to give 5 updates in December, and when you're running everyday it makes the month seem really long. Looking at my mileage, if I keep running at the same rate I should have no problem passing 100 running miles for the month, and may even reach 120. We shall see!Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-23824381613251614852010-12-16T20:56:00.000-08:002010-12-16T21:05:27.456-08:00Runathon Week 2By Week 2, the gung ho-ness of "Oh boy this will be a challenge!" wears off. Now the body is saying "Why are we running AGAIN? We ran yesterday. Today should be a rest day." But today is not a rest day. Nor is tomorrow. Or the next day.<br /><br />Here's Week 2:<br />Sun, 12/5 - Neighborhood run the day after Dawn 2 Dusk. So far the most painful run of the runathon. 3.44 miles.<br />Mon, 12/6 - Morning run where I did the absolute minimum. 2.5 miles.<br />Tues, 12/7 - Another "just get it done run." 2.54 miles.<br />Wed, 12/8 - Evening run. Normally I run in the mornings, and it's because I get it done and have less of a chance to procrastinate. Not much over the minimum with this one. 3.14 miles.<br />Thurs, 12/9 - Back to the morning. 3.93 miles.<br />Fri, 12/10 - Didn't want to go crazy the day before the mud run. 2.51 miles.<br />Sat, 12/11 - Cat Mountain Mud Run 5K with Zac and Ryan The Boulder. This was out at Starr Pass, and all on trails. So it was my trail run for the week! 3.10 miles.<br /><br />Total Week 2 miles = 21.16 miles<br /><br />There were a lot of runs just over the minimum required 2 miles. But even with low miles each day, I still came out of the week with over 20 miles. I think I may break 100 miles this month.Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-78967207289721036532010-12-09T16:14:00.000-08:002010-12-09T16:19:47.613-08:00Runathon Week 1For those of us doing the Runathon, we are doing our weekly reports on Saturdays, since December ends on a Friday. I need to get my Week 1 report posted before it's Week 2!<br /><br />Here's how the runs went:<br /><br />Wed, 12/1 - Easy neighborhood run. 2.90 miles.<br />Thurs, 12/2 - Ran up Old Spanish Trail from the church to Freeman and back with The Boulder. 5.35 miles.<br />Fri, 12/3 - Ran the Pemberton Trail in the Fountain Hills area with Zac. Trail run for the week! 4.75 miles.<br />Sat, 12/4 - Got up early and ran before the Dawn to Dusk mountain bike race. I learned from last year to get this run done BEFORE the race, as I wouldn't feel like it after. 2.51 miles.<br /><br />Total Week 1 miles = 15.51 miles<br /><br />So far so good!Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-8851850414547899412010-11-27T14:55:00.000-08:002010-11-27T15:22:50.114-08:00My December Runathon ExperimentEach year the Tucson Tri Girls hold the December Runathon. For each day in December, participants are to run a minimum of 2 miles. Now 2 miles sounds like nothing, but when you're doing it everday in addition to your other runs and bike rides, it can become difficult to schedule sometimes. I did this challenge <a href="http://azpirategirl.blogspot.com/2008/11/december-runathon-goals.html">back in 2008</a> and successfully completed it. Since I have no training plan that I'm married to this year, I decided to do the December Runathon again this year.<br /><br />Last time I set some goals, so I think I'll do that again for this year.<br /><br /><strong>2010 December Runathon Goals:</strong><br /><ol><li><strong>Run everyday in December, a minimum of 2 miles each run.</strong> The most important goal!</li><li><strong>Do a trail run at least once a week.</strong> Gotta mix it up and hit the trails in addition to the roads.</li><li><strong>Egg Nog Jog 5K faster than 2008's.</strong> Beat last year's time of 26:19 (8:25 min/mile average).</li><li><strong>Run to the summit of Agua Caliente Hill and back.</strong> The trailhead to this hill is 2 miles from my house. I can see the summit right now out my office window as I type this. But I've never reached the summit. This year I'm going to do it as a long run and get to the top where the summit marker is (9.25 miles round trip).</li></ol><p>Back when I did the 2008 December Runathon, I did the Egg Nog Jog 5K on 1/1/2009 and ran my fastest 5K ever. I figured it was because of the Runathon. Or was it? The only way to find out is to do an experiment. This year I plan to do a 5K time trial before and after the December Runathon to see what happens. For my pre-Runathon time trial, I chose the Gladden Farms 10K race, which I did this morning. Both this race and the Egg Nog Jog are in the Marana area, and are similar in terms of hills. Shari and I ran the 10K this morning, and I pushed it on the first 5K to get my TT time, then cruised for the second 5K to wrap up the race. </p><p>Pre-Runathon 5K time = 27:08 (8:45 min/mile average)</p><p>So now it is saved in the blog. We'll see what happens in a month! I'll try to keep updating my blog on a regular basis with how the Runathon (and other workouts) are going.</p>Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-29272743969646317942010-11-21T20:06:00.000-08:002010-11-21T20:58:02.497-08:00El Snack Tour de Tucson<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 314px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542222537324523858" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiINQs4op7sjHrlzvErXu8Gjo5HEJtwMaYnS1j-AXr4yCAm0umolCUiQAqsdovXcZnOl7MgdNOZVkv3xbxV6U6tpFMmFa-E2M8AsRosM0K_SmglIWn8TBN8mdOcRGN9lbWQpmWh1ihy1sY/s400/El+Tour+001_2.JPG" /><br /><p>I had kind of been waffling about doing El Tour de Tucson. I've ridden it in the past for bike patrol, which is a whole other type of riding. Lots of stopping, lots of working on bikes, and overall being out on the course until the sun goes down. As bike patrol, I would always ride my commuter cyclocross bike with the trunk on the back, so that I could carry all the tools and supplies needed. And in the past I never really considered riding the tour as a rider since my bike choices were either my cyclocross bike (which is heavier in commuter trim) or one of my mountain bikes. The tri bike was out due to the aero bars. But this year I finally pulled the trigger and got a real bonafide road bike, so the thought of the tour entered my head about 2 weeks before the race.</p><p>Now I am not trained for the tour, but wanted to start getting back into doing longer rides. The 66 mile distance was perfect. Long enough for a challenge and to get a good ride in, but not too long to turn me into roadkill. I posted that I was thinking about doing the 66 mile event on Facebook, and Liane chimed in and asked what speed I was planning to ride. Speed? I was planning on an easy ride at a pace that would ensure I would be able to walk the next day. But because I signed up a week before the race, I paid a lot more in entry fees. So to make up for it, I planned to partake of as many snacks on the course as possible. In triathlon you get used to having to carry everything with you for surviving an entire day of racing. You can't leave the course if you forget your snacks, or have someone hand you snacks over the fence. But in El Tour, there are a ton of snacks provided. And if there wasn't something that I wanted there would be Circle K's along the way. Thus El Snack Tour de Tucson was born.</p><p>Liane met me at my house and we rode the 7.4 miles to Udall park for the start. We met up with Tri Girl Rose and hung out until the ride began. Then we were off on our snack tour. Liane and I chatted the entire way, because you can't be on a snack tour and not be chatty and social. Our first stop was the Sabino Creek crossing. It took some time to cross the creek, but I didn't mind as our first snack stop was right after the wash. I snagged 2 cookies while Liane opted for a banana. I only went with 2 cookies, because you have to pace your snacking in the El Snack Tour. Go out too fast on the snacking, and you won't have any room for future snacks. If they are good snacks you will be mad you screwed up your snack pacing.</p><p>The next aid station we skipped, because the sign out front said "Water and Bathrooms." We didn't need either of those. So we continued on up Sunrise, then over to Oracle. By this point I did need water, so we pulled into the aid station at Catalina State Park. I refilled my water bottles, and took a look at the snacks. Hmmm...only fruit. A very poor showing of snacks. I took a few bites of watermelon, then we were off. The wind was now very noticeable as we rolled through the Rancho Vistoso area, and Liane mentioned pretzels would be good right about now. I agreed, as we were reaching the point in the ride where carbs and salt would taste good. We pulled into the next aid station and they had kids out front with trays that had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Oh my gosh were those good! Liane and I both took 2 small sandwiches. It was time to go back out into the wind, but I was much happier after my PB&J.</p><p>I told Liane that I remembered a few years back there was an aid station around that area that had Girl Scout cookies, and if they were there this year we HAD to stop. I was not passing up Girl Scout cookies. Our conversation then turned to our favorite Girl Scout cookie flavors and how evil they are and how easy it is to eat an entire box. We almost missed the next station but at the last minute spotted the Girl Scout flag. We quickly pulled into the pit stop and I grabbed a peanut butter chocolate cookie and a caramel shortbread. No samoas or thin mints. Darn it! But PB would have to do. This wasn't too far after our PB&J stop, so I only took 2 cookies.</p><p>Back out on the road and the wind. We skipped the next aid, because we could see from the road they only had fruit. We were getting good at spying the snacks from the road and just doing a drive-by without having to stop. If it was just fruit, we kept going. On Tangerine we drafted behind a big guy, and for those few minutes we looked like we were actually in a bike race. That is, until the next aid station appeared. This aid station was off the road just before the train tracks and where we would have to cross under I-10. The aid station was packed with people, and I could only see one little tent. It wasn't looking good. We went into drive-by mode and almost didn't stop until at the last minute we saw the most awesome sight ever: the Eegee's truck. We both yelled "Eegee's!" and pulled in and dropped our bikes. They had lemon, strawberry, and pina colada eegee's in plastic cups, already served up so you just grabbed your cup and go. We stood around and ate our eegee's, which tasted wonderful. No wonder so many people were stopped there!</p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 254px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 251px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542222545429517890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh77wa2uZDZq37X2rWcGYVFGjPJOXIGyxvVyXIW4TMnJsqlhATSUS3til48MtWD1MSLd6viVjPFFI4mJfgnYlxE0hv3cU04glB6A5uSkEwmi_8KBObP0lDvMNIgZJNFK2F-pp99JAHFdlM/s400/El+Tour_fbprofile.JPG" /><br /><p>After the eegee's break it was back onto the roads, and the crappy road section out by Picture Rocks. It's like Euclid road only longer. We knew there was a hill to climb, but there would be an aid station after the downhill. At this point we REALLY wanted pretzels. Pretzels would have complimented my eegee's quite well. We jammed up the hill, coasted down the other side, and pulled in to another aid sation that only offered fruit. Grrr! No pretzels. I ate some of the contingency snacks that I had brought along and took a slice of watermelon.</p><p>The lack of pretzels was affecting our mental state as we cranked along the Frontage road. Dust was blowing across the road and we were getting sandblasted. We were leap frogging with Tri Girl Marlene, who was doing the 109 mile distance. Liane and I dropped back again to do a drive-by of the next aid, which just had fruit. Again with the fruit! Things were looking bad. We were also tired of sitting on our bikes. Thankfully the last aid station saved us. We pulled into a parking lot, dropped our bikes, and were greeted with chocolate brownies, chocolate chip pumpkin bread, and pretzels! I was on snack sensory overload. I grabbed a brownie and started chowing that down while grabbing a slice of pumpkin bread and shoving pretzels in my jersey pocket. It was absoloutely wonderful. We seriously considered staying there for awhile and calling Liane's husband Nate to tell him that the finish line had moved and it was now located in this parking lot where the brownies were.</p><p>I was perfectly content to stay with the brownies, but Liane said we had to go and actually finish the ride so we got back on the bikes to finish the last 5.5 miles. I had packed enough pretzels in my pocket to be able to eat a pretzel each remaining mile. Liane was surviving on Tootsie rolls. The last few miles of a ride are always the longest, so the pretzels at least gave me something to enjoy. We rode to the finish downtown, crossed the timing mat, and found Nate. Liane and I then had to find the real food. I was prepared because I knew you had to buy the good stuff. The free stuff included bagels and more dreaded fruit. We got our medals then made our way to the food court where we scarfed down pizza and sodas. Both tasted wonderful and were the perfect ending to our El Snack Tour de Tucson.</p>Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-22007234292848371092010-11-11T19:10:00.000-08:002010-11-11T19:21:31.462-08:00Fall Foliage RideLast weekend, Zac and I headed up Mt. Lemmon to do some riding in the fall leaves. We rode the 1918 trail, and took quite a few pics. We then continued on to the Sunset trail, where I had a minor mishap that tweaked my shoulder. My shoulder still hasn't healed from my fall during the run a few weeks ago. Hiking with the bike and riding down drops just aggrivated it, so I think I will be stuck riding the road bike for the next few weeks until it heals.<br /><br />Who says you can't see fall color in Tucson? This is a 30 minute drive from our house.<br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538496441981346178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuDtrcpJWBb2TXhq0YmicgaQMLLPKDmnRyEXn9xHaLD97u-QxIWT3wSQDNiRCWU6tollwDloBjLsdO7lxwZ7tCSqXOPuOcO_vJ6ATn67n8vkNbXrSB0-1qy0kJXNMmhRSa8D0BrkTOVRM/s400/Fall+Ride+008.JPG" /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538496436662328050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMrMGifw3tXPjXh_81HX6g7Y5tBo6HWqLVNocdtBIM7EamWLNDFI_Hb756jL_9-3gFFl3wa8qF-g2k5DbECyNWywsMGD6htnhcFf31XxibbTiGpYPvsdUJVkJ2pQKxc0ZUj0asH0V-jpA/s400/Fall+Ride+007.JPG" /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrIpYLqRpwjiWCwl_1y7-bmuJtf-deIB-uh-ikhUkerIa0ZzaL1iCdGt6WLZlFQz-B4swECfThBz1UBWOOeZgKne3WMCl4g63_eoahhM_4BjHSOHVns0vzNMoKTbe5-tIeauEGcjZCWSs/s1600/Fall+Ride+002.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538495931236268546" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrIpYLqRpwjiWCwl_1y7-bmuJtf-deIB-uh-ikhUkerIa0ZzaL1iCdGt6WLZlFQz-B4swECfThBz1UBWOOeZgKne3WMCl4g63_eoahhM_4BjHSOHVns0vzNMoKTbe5-tIeauEGcjZCWSs/s400/Fall+Ride+002.JPG" /></a> <br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538495926996368914" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMV1hYij7q4QpBEY4zKTK_3UhqcosC7RWy2LXtpm-O04UOZo_I9pCkjP8ld8Moid-0CSKClwUMeQ0HICdPYOAB0chsL4onCsCtxpYBCyNpXlsmjr_ahZ5VdT1r3n157r3zbsFI1wi-8Lc/s400/Fall+Ride+001.JPG" /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538496428433437250" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIMf33UGIIIO9eSC6NLLf7HI_DJRdRZ4LC89Z3jTh-IJirsnmDW9Z0sBDdVVszmuVpyjru65sSlLkQHMhsnl_Jy-sozYEfcS4V0tgsJ4NAZZWINHKtRYX0rjZZQAG5SDymwBsu49siHEk/s400/Fall+Ride+006.JPG" /> <div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGH6add8nXlp2qgaTVEWRvsZYWSDOocGpfh7qEwTTMjQ-KmItJzeolJxPm8vajoe6dko3evIb3S3_-uOYZvAUXbbrGXEw6fsKiEi05QY2x2JDzE8j4QrSZYRGaPEnj3ccSKGvV7GeYIfs/s1600/IMG_5913.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538496417782670162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGH6add8nXlp2qgaTVEWRvsZYWSDOocGpfh7qEwTTMjQ-KmItJzeolJxPm8vajoe6dko3evIb3S3_-uOYZvAUXbbrGXEw6fsKiEi05QY2x2JDzE8j4QrSZYRGaPEnj3ccSKGvV7GeYIfs/s400/IMG_5913.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxJty-ohqkWZcfnTF1II1rx5aoxLI2HLZn57Gld-l-aQdBXgNxVzM7rQGZWaOixvxqABXHoPDwwW4cahCQJLMKGVr51K_KeA9Q6Nuehdibd6b6HC92iTsocqOWWyK0dYSlqhQ_qw7tcD8/s1600/Fall+Ride+005.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538495961947203442" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxJty-ohqkWZcfnTF1II1rx5aoxLI2HLZn57Gld-l-aQdBXgNxVzM7rQGZWaOixvxqABXHoPDwwW4cahCQJLMKGVr51K_KeA9Q6Nuehdibd6b6HC92iTsocqOWWyK0dYSlqhQ_qw7tcD8/s400/Fall+Ride+005.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNn1TIwcGQJ41qAq7eXBUaa_G3rNSgndHDrQrkScI-C6QT2-N5h8Vbu94QxyF6jdPZKCl1Sh-zRTj1sup29iuaePDwft8DjNIGlbWSLuMvOIebLUEWEZkgpK0rCNYqTxwMKcQ7TZVPsFU/s1600/Fall+Ride+004.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538495955283547394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNn1TIwcGQJ41qAq7eXBUaa_G3rNSgndHDrQrkScI-C6QT2-N5h8Vbu94QxyF6jdPZKCl1Sh-zRTj1sup29iuaePDwft8DjNIGlbWSLuMvOIebLUEWEZkgpK0rCNYqTxwMKcQ7TZVPsFU/s400/Fall+Ride+004.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9TbC4i31FsU7xxV98WC3XdrWPbxaLRrDkwKtOSvyc1ryZt7gKycuJTTVyJAtSfi4brExkbiaKFSCKtGBvFrbX8pp9uBGnz5y8iaWAxQ95KxWlYiiLinvhKzhK60pcp2dhX5Kdv3Q7KKw/s1600/Fall+Ride+003.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538495940455921058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9TbC4i31FsU7xxV98WC3XdrWPbxaLRrDkwKtOSvyc1ryZt7gKycuJTTVyJAtSfi4brExkbiaKFSCKtGBvFrbX8pp9uBGnz5y8iaWAxQ95KxWlYiiLinvhKzhK60pcp2dhX5Kdv3Q7KKw/s400/Fall+Ride+003.JPG" /></a> </div></div></div></div></div>Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-17601337882745174912010-10-31T17:15:00.000-07:002010-11-07T21:39:40.417-08:00XTERRA World Championships Race ReportI feel that if you have the opportunity to race in the biggest race of your sport, you should do so. When I roadraced motorcycles, I qualified for the Race of Champions my amateur year. It meant driving from our home in Tucson, AZ to Daytona Beach, but it was an awesome time. From XTERRA Saipan in March I got a qualifying slot to the XTERRA World Championships in Maui, which weren't held until this past weekend. So that meant continuing on with training so that I could attend this huge race. This would mean I went through 1 full year of triathlon training, by far my longest stretch.<br /><br />XTERRA is a very cool group of people. At the World Championships, everyone is glad you are there, and everyone is there to have fun. No one really cares what you are ranked, how you got there, or how fast you are. It is the last XTERRA tri of the season, and something to enjoy. I went into this race with a very different mindset. Let's face it, I wasn't going to win the World Championships. Neither were 548 other people there. I was in a beautiful place, and there to celebrate and enjoy the culmination of an entire season. This was, after all, my 5th XTERRA race of the year.<br /><br />Race morning I got to transition early, and by early I mean 7 AM. The race didn't start until 9 AM. I love this about XTERRA. No getting up in the dark to eat breakfast to be ready to hit the water for a 7 AM start. I think this is the mountain bike influence on the race, since many were partying the night before. I set up my area, and headed to bodymarking where I was stamped with the official number stamps. I love the big races that have the number stamps, and not some kid scrawling your race number on with a sharpie. Once I had my area set up I wandered around, checking out the race. There were TV crews everywhere. They had retrofitted golf carts with camera gear, had cameras on stands on the beach, had camera divers deployed in the water, cameras on boats, cameras on the helicopter flying overhead, and cameras just about everywhere else. It was like a Universal Studios sound stage. I had to make do with my Android phone and point and shoot camera. I handed the phone over to Zac for the day, so that he could keep friends and family updated at home on facebook.<br /><br />While waiting, I wandered over to the race announcer's station. There were 3 announcers covering the race, and I wanted to talk to one announcer in particular. I don't know her name, but she's the woman announcer with short, black, spiky hair. She had done the announcing for XTERRA nationals, and the western regional cup race. I went up and thanked her and told her that I wasn't a fast racer, and really appreciated that she was there at the finish line announcing all the way up to the last racer crossing the finish line. Many races break down the finish line before people have finished racing, and many are left with a sad ghost town of what used to be the finish area. But XTERRA keeps the finish line open until the last racer has finished, and this announcer stays and announces their name, even if the only people hearing the announcing are the family at the finish line and the race workers and volunteers.<br /><br />At 8:30 AM the opening ceremonies started on the beach, with Reverend Alalani Hill leading the traditional Hawaiian blessing ceremony. The XTERRA racers joined together in a giant circle with arms around each other while she spoke. She is an amazing speaker, and as we stood together with our arms around complete strangers from different countries, many were moved to tears with her words. The gentleman who was standing next to me in the huddle was sniffling, so I patted his shoulder. At the conclusion, we all lined up on the beach and Rev. Hill brushed each racer with tree leaves. As I passed by I touched her arm to say thanks for her kind wishes and felt an extra bush of tree leaves across the back of my neck.<br /><br />At 9 AM the starting cannon went off and everyone ran into the water. I let the majority of the mass go ahead and walked in until about knee deep and started swimming. Thankfully the seas were calm that day. All of my practice swims in the ocean were in preparation for this day. The sun was out and there were a few small clouds in the sky. As I swam I could see a few small fish and coral below us. I still ended up in the mass of people, and tried to draft where I could and moved around the crooked swimmers where I could. The week before the race I had fallen in a running race, causing roadrash on my right side and injuring my shoulder. I could tell the shoulder was still tight when I swam, but it loosened up about halfway through the first lap. I was smacked in the back of the head once, and had my hands brush a few racers, but other than that it wasn't too bad. After the first buoy we had to make a 90 degree turn, which is where most of the contact happened. At this point I was also a bit freaked out for a second at what I saw below. At first I thought it was a giant orange fish, but on a second look it turned out to be a diver zooming around underwater holding on to an orange propulsion system.<br /><br />I came out of the water on my first lap and saw 16 minutes and change. Not bad for my first lap! We had a short run on the beach, then headed back in for the second lap. The second lap had much less density of people, and I thought it was cool that I was swimming up with people that were wearing speed suits. By the middle of the second lap I was done with being in the ocean and wanted to get out. The only way out was to keep swimming. I resisted pulling up and breaststroking and forced my head down in freestyle. I finally touched the beach and stood up and made my way to transition. 34 minutes for the swim, and I was happy with that.<br /><br />I got to transition and spent my time getting the sand off my feet. Usually I fly through transition in 1-2 minutes, but I figured it was more important to get the sand and grass off my feet before stuffing them in my shoes. I also wanted to get my gloves on to protect the roadrash on my right palm. While in transition I could hear the announcer talking about some of the racers. The Japanese racers were gathering at one end of the transition area, waiting for each other so that they could go out on the bike course together. I thought that was really cool. I grabbed my bike and ran up the hill, and gave the volunteer a high five as I ran. Rev. Hill was right behind him with her tree leaves, and yelled "Keep it going!" so I gave her a high five as well. At the top of the hill we were allowed to mount our bikes, and the bike course began.<br /><br />We only had a short section of road before getting on a dirt road, then riding over to Makena ranch. The entire bike course is on private property, and no one is allowed to ride it until race day. Without a pre-ride, myself and a couple hundred other racers would have to figure out the course as we rode. All I knew was the shape of the course from the map, which was no help, and the snippets of video I had seen on XTERRA.TV of people crashing on the downhill. The course was on the west end of the island, which was very dry and had not received much rain. The trails were covered with rocks and a layer of fluffy loam. But unlike the jungles of Saipan, I was experienced in riding over loose rocks.<br /><br />The first part of the course was mostly doubletrack, and a ton of uphills. On the first few hills, people were jumping off and walking. But not me. I was bound and determined to ride as many uphills as I could. I cleaned the first few, then got into a few where I only had to walk a few steps at the top after I had spun out in the loose dirt. Then we came to the first downhill. The trail was not very well traveled, and was covered in lava rock scree. I passed a girl from Japan who was riding with a guy. Just as I was looking for a way around him, he crashed, and I had no where to go but off to the side. I had a small tip over trying to avoid him, but got back on and continued down the hill. I kept the weight over the back, stayed off the front brake, and lightly guided the front end down until I was safely at the bottom. That would be the only downhill for quite awhile.<br /><br />Somewhere on the course is a hill called "Heartbreak Hill," but I honestly can't tell you which one because they all look the same and there are a billion of them. We would climb a rocky hill, then the course would level out for a short bit, and then climb another rocky hill. The only good thing was that I wasn't by myself and there were still plenty of riders around me. So I would climb, and then get off when I couldn't climb anymore. The gumption that I had on the early hills to cleam the climbs was slowly waning. I started to look to the ocean to take in the view, but I was absoloutely covered in sweat and frying in the heat. It was 95 degrees and humid, and I had never drank so much on a course in my life. My shorts and Camelbak were encrusted with salt. We had 3 aid stations on the bike course, and I made it to the first one with half a Camelbak and an empty water bottle. I threw my bottle away and got a fresh water bottle and continued on.<br /><br />More climbing. My legs were now killing me and it was getting harder and harder to turn over the pedals. I talked with the riders around me. One guy was named Jerry, and he had taken the time to put on leg armor in transition for the long downhill. I was now sighing and groaning on the climbs, and was running out of gas. My Snicker bars weren't even helping at this point. I stayed in my little group of riders until at the top of a climb, where the course made a sharp turn. The downhill! Jerry stopped to put on elbow guards, and the guy in front of me was hesatant to start the downhill. I threw my bike gears out of the well-oiled Granny gear, and started the awesome downhill. The guys behind me said they were being chivalrous and letting me go first. ;)<br /><br /><p>The downhill was made up of lava rock, some of it in large sheets fixed in place, and much of it loose scree. Even though the trail pointed down, it still takes strength to ride these things fast. But I didn't care. I own the downhill. Fortunately the downhill was doubletrack, so I had plenty of lines to choose from. There is a speed you have to reach where your wheels are no longer down in the rocks, but instead start to float over the rocks. I hit that speed and then some, which is called Mach Stupid. At this speed there was no way I would be able to stop suddenly for any reason, but it didn't matter because there was a ton of visibility on the trail, we were all travelling the same direction, and no one was around me. Well, that is until I started catching and passing other riders. Some were timidly picking lines, stuck in the rocks. I came flying down with a loud "On your left!" I passed about 5 people on this long section of trail. The last one was a girl who was trying to make her way down the last few yards of trail and crashed right in front of the camera crew. If they were filming, the next scene was her sitting on the right side of the trail as I hauled down the left, cleaning the section. All of the videos of the course show people crashing all over the place on the downhill. But I had cleaned it! And I reached a maximum speed of 28.8 mph on that loose, rocky downhill.</p><p>The next section of trail was yet another uphill climb. I was so sick of climbing! The XTERRA helicopter flew overhead. <em>"No worries folks, I'm still out here, climbing and taking my bike for a walk"</em> I thought to myself. I started the next downhill, which was much shorter. But things got a bit weird at the bottom of the hill. On the XTERRA courses, blue arrows mark the bike course, and red arrows mark the run course. The last blue arrow I saw pointed to the right at the bottom of the hill. But when I tried to turn right there was a race crew there. One of the crew guys had just shut the gate to the Jeep road, which was the next section of the bike course. The gate was even marked with a "Mile 16" marker. What was going on?</p><p>"Which way do I go?" I asked.<br />"Go straight down there" the guy in the XTERRA staff shirt said.</p><p>But "straight down there" pointed me to the dirt road, which had runners on the run course coming up from the opposite direction. I was confused, but as racers we are always supposed to do what the course officials tell us.</p><p>Now, at this point in the race my brain has been baked, and I started becoming paranoid. There was one single time cutoff to worry about at this race, and it was that we had to be out of T2 by 1 PM. That was it. My head started spinning. Was there another cutoff that I wasn't aware of? How could there be? I'm one of those people that reads the Race Bible cover to cover and knows all the rules. Maybe they felt at this point in the race I had no hope of making the 1 PM cutoff? But I wasn't a straggler, and I was still out there with plenty of people! As I rode down the road, runners going in the opposite direction were looking at me strangley, because I was not on the bike course. The other riders that I had passed on the downhill had also caught up by now, so I followed them. Here we were, biking in the opposite direction on the run course. No blue arrows anywhere.</p><p>As I rode, the thoughts continued. Have I been pulled from the race? Am I even still racing? Did they divert me and everyone else off the course to hand us our DNFs and tell us to clean up our transition areas? I've been down this mental road before in 2007, when I was racing the minutes on the clock trying to get back to the transition area in 30 mph winds at Ironman Arizona, only to miss the cutoff by 6 minutes. But this time I did not care. I started to mentally come to terms and prepare if they were going to cut me from the race. I was not giving back all the clothing I purchased the day before with "2010 XTERRA World Championship Maui" emblazoned on it. I was going to keep it. And maybe this meant I wasn't going to have to run the 7 miles of the run course. </p><p>As I rode past Run Aid Station #2 with Jerry and another guy, two other bike riders came up from the opposite direction. "There are no blue arrows down there" they said. Well, duh, there hasn't been a blue arrow for awhile folks. We stopped and they rode to the aid station and asked where we should go. Other bike riders appeared and joined our group. I was in a group of about 10 people wondering where to go, so I felt a little better being in such a large group of confused people. I looked at my watch. 12:40 PM. We had exactly 20 minutes to get this figured out, get back to transition, change into our run gear, and get clocked out of T2 if we were, in fact, still in this race. One of the riders asked the volunteer at the aid station, and she radioed to the race headquarters. "This is Run Aid Station 2 and I have bike riders wondering where to go" she said. They radioed back and told us to continue up the road and turn left. Once again, always do what the race course volunteers and officials said.</p><p>We continued up the dirt road and turned left. To our right just outside of the turn an XTERRA course official guy came flying up in a golf cart. "The front of the group of bikers just came through here!" he frantically radioed back. What the heck was going on?!? We were now on the last stretch of dirt road that was the beginning of the run course. We continued, and turned onto the paved road that led back to the race site. As I made the turn there, a volunteer was quickly writing down and calling out all of our race numbers. <em>"Great, she's writing down the DNF list"</em> I thought. Why else would they be recording our numbers?</p><p>I followed the other riders, and we rode the final stretch on the grass golf course towards transition. The crowd of spectators was still there cheering, yelling "Great job!" but they didn't know. They didn't know that I was probably heading towards a transition area to only have my bike grabbed by an official and told I couldn't continue. I tried not to get upset. <em>"Always keep going until you're told to stop. You don't stop racing until you see the red or checkered flag"</em> I told myself. </p><p>I rolled up to the transition area and was pointed to the rack of bikes. No one was there to pull me from the course. Were we still racing? I ran to my spot, threw down my bike gear, got my run gear on, and headed out. Zac was on the edge of the transition area and cheering. </p><p>"I don't even know if I'm still racing" I said as I walked by.<br />"Just keep going. I heard there was something messed up on the course" he replied.</p><p>So I headed out of transition, with my official T2 time being clocked before 1 PM. As I ran out, a bunch of other bikers were still coming in, so I was far from last. I came to the realization that I now had to run 7 more miles to be finished. The first part of the course on pavement wasn't bad, but then we turned and headed up the dirt hill that I had just ridden down. My legs were completely shot. I tried to run, but just couldn't get the legs to go. So I decided to walk on the uphills and "run" on the downhills. I had to try to save some energy to get through the next 7 miles. </p><p>I trotted where I could, but the course climbed and climbed. It was all dirt Jeep road, until we finally made a turn onto a downhill. The downhill was not much of a road or a trail, and was covered with loose, fist-sized rocks. No matter where you stepped, your foot was landing on a loose rock. It was painful, even with trail running shoes on. I was trying not to fall and make last week's injuries worse. I had pulled on road bike gloves to protect my roadrashed palm in case I did fall.</p><p>I ate a few Sport Beans, and stopped at all of the aid stations for water. Even though they had water, I still carried two bottles on my Fuel Belt with me, so that I would always have water and I could slowly sip it. I was already sunburned, since I was in a rush to get out of T2 and didn't bother to re-apply sunscreen. There were a few clouds out that blocked some of the sun, and I think that saved me and allowed me to keep moving on the run course.</p><p>After the rocky hell, the next bit of fun was Big Beach. It's the longest beach on Maui, and we had to run it. There were a few flags on the beach, but the XTERRA officials had told us at the pre-race meeting that we were allowed to run anywhere parallel to the markers. I decided to take the path of least resistance and run on the hard-pack that forms right by the water line. The only tough part was that the beach wasn't closed for this race (why would you...it's only the World Championships) so I was dodging boogie boarders and people running in and out of the ocean. It was bizarre. Here were a ton of people enjoying their vacation or weekend on the beach, and I was running right through the middle of them, trying to finish a tough race course. I was covered in salt, sweat, and dirt. They were slathering on suntan oil and lounging on beach blankets. Oh, and they had sodas and snacks. Snacks that were not some horribly engineered robot race food with a lukewarm water chaser. I would have hated the beach people, except once in awhile some of them would cheer. I think it was only because I had a number on. Otherwise I would have looked very similar to the crazy beach bum people that wander the beach. And probably smelled the same.</p><p>I finished the beach run and turned onto a trail. Just before the aid station I found a log and sat down and dumped 40 pounds of dirt out of my shoes. Sand is just awful, and beach sand is the worst, and I can tell you from my countless trail runs that sand in shoes just makes for bashed up toes. There was no way I was going to run 20 more minutes with shoes full of sand. I pulled my shoes back on, and hit the aid station. This aid station was awesome because they had ice, and I gladly took a cup. I popped a cube in my mouth, filled my hat and put the ice on my head, and kept going. "One more mile!" they yelled. I learned a long time ago never to trust distances claimed by aid station people.</p><p>The next section of trail was called the "Spooky Forest" which was a bunch of scraggly trees with no leaves, twisting through the trail. I had to duck under and climb over logs. At least I didn't have a ravine to lower myself down via rope like Saipan. This was cake compared to that. But the forest section wasn't very long, and I quickly found myself back on another stupid beach with more stupid sand. This sand was more coarse and black because there were huge lava rocks at the water's edge. I had to slowly climb the boulder field of black lava rock. When lava rock gets wet, it gets insanely slippery. I was glad to have my gloves on, because at some points I was climbing on all fours as the water splashed over the rocks. To my right, a golf course finally appeared. This meant I was close to the finish! </p><p>As I walked over the rocks I ate about 3 more Sport Beans. On the 4th bean my stomach turned sour, and I spit the half-chewed 4th bean out. Stomach does not want Sport Beans! I sipped some water. Ugh. I also learned at Iroman Arizona not to force down stuff that makes you nauseous, because the stomach WILL revolt and have a Going out of Business sale without your consent. I thought for sure I was going to loose it. But I was so close to the finish! So I walked and drank more water. I also REALLY wanted to take my shoes off again. The sand from the black beach had made it's way into my shoes and made my size 8.5 shoes feel like size 5. I looked at my watch. If I hurried I could get under the 6 hour mark. No time to take off the shoes.</p><p>I trotted along the trail and finally saw Zac near the little gazebo base we had taken our pictures at the day before. He was still waiting for me and snapping pictures. "Do you want your flag?" he asked. "Sure" I said. He would have no problem beating me to the finish line. I had one small wall I had to get over before the final stretch, and didn't have the energy to hop over it. I grabbed the top of the wall and slowly stepped over it like I was 80 years old. I took my Arizona flag from Zac and started jogging the last part of the course. It's funny because the trail goes behind the beach restrooms before the final 2 turns to the finisher's chute. Hey, it's the World Championships afterall. So the next time you use a restroom near a trail, for all you know it could be right by a World Championship course for some insane race.</p><p>I had to dodge a few spectators but finally made it to the finisher's chute. It was a row of flags from different countries and US states. There were still spectators cheering, so I unfolded my AZ flag and ran with it over my head up the finisher's chute. Everyone was cheering, and I crossed the finish line at 5:54:54, just under the 6 hour mark! I heard my favorite announcer gal announce my name and say "She's a Tri Girl from Tucson!" which was really cool. There were still television cameras there at the finish line (yes, even that late in the game). I think they got a shot of me with my tongue out or something. I had a flower lei draped over my neck, and was handed my official finisher's medal, which says "Survivor XTERRA World Championships." How appropriate.</p><p>All I wanted to do at the finish line was finally take my shoes off! I found an empty chair and dumped out my shoes and socks. My toes were dyed black from the lava sand and I had no clue what state my toenails were in. I talked to a few other racers around me and watched as the other racers came in. Meanwhile, Zac posted on Facebook that I had officially finished the race. I slowly walked barefoot back to the transition area, and sat down to clean up my spot. I had no energy to stand. I had stashed a small insulated lunch box in my transition bag with 2 small cartons of chocolate milk on ice. So I sat in my disheveled transition area with no shoes on and my race gear scattered everywhere, sipping my chocolate milk. I looked around and others cleaning up their spaces were sitting in the grass as well. No one had the energy to stand. As I slowly picked up my area, I talked with the other racers that I had seen out on the course. Many asked if I would be back to Maui next year or in the future, but I said I wanted to travel and do some of the other XTERRA races abroad first. </p><p>And what was the big confusion on the bike course? After the race I heard there had been a major crash on the course, so we were diverted away from the area. So it turned out I wasn't being pulled from the course or anything. They were taking our numbers down to keep track of who was being diverted and to keep an account of us, since we couldn't continue on the regular course. So no matter what, always do what the race officials tell you, even if it's confusing. After I got some food and rest, it all made much more sense. ;)</p><p>Even though the race was incredibly tough, the XTERRA World Championships were still a lot of fun to participate in. The XTERRA community is still pretty small compared to other triathlon events, and I like that. I hope they are able to keep the vibe going as things change throughout the years. This race made me want to continue to do XTERRA triathlons, and after seeing the highlights video I definitely want to do some of the European races. I'm not sure if I'll ever make it back to Maui, which is why I took this race as a "once in a lifetime opportunity" and enjoyed it while I was there.</p><p>So what is next? A BREAK. This was an entire year of training and I am mentally tired and want to get back to my willy nilly training. I'll still bike and run (and sometimes swim, heh) but I need a mental break from following a set plan. There's a lot of new stuff I want to try next year, like downhill mountain bike racing, bikepacking, and getting back into riding my bike into work once in awhile. I tend to do this in waves, with one "on" year of focused training, followed by an "off" year of doing whatever whenever. So I'm definitely looking forward to some "off" time!</p><p><a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1080075085#!/album.php?aid=78571&id=1080075085">Photos from the race are here in my album on Facebook.</a></p><p>HUGE thanks to everyone that helped over this past year:</p><p><strong>Zac</strong> - Husband, race sherpa, photographer, laundry helper, and the one who says "I think you should do it" when I question if something is stupid/crazy, even after I said I would do it.</p><p><strong>Coach Scott Blanchard from Pyramid Coaching</strong> - He set the plan that helped me get here, helped keep me from melting down, from overtraining, and never said I was crazy when I wanted to reach the 2 goals of Saipan and the World Championships. A good coach is such a huge help!</p><p><strong>Mom & Dad</strong> - For endless support and cheering. They are huge fans of the blog. ;)</p><p><strong>Training Partners</strong> - For everyone that helped in my year of swimming, biking, and running to get here. My friends from the Tucson Tri Girls allowed me to tag along on bike rides. And Ryan "The Boulder" for our weekly runs where he would run with me no matter how crazy the workout was, including hill repeats on A Mountain or running Saguaro East in the dark.</p><p><strong>Readers of The Blog</strong> - Friends from Beginner Triathlete.com, MTBR.com, friends & family members, and everyone else that puts up with waiting for me to make an update or write a race report. Thanks! :)</p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 471px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 661px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/hs409.ash2/68740_1554782544393_1080075085_1475914_2584226_n.jpg" /><br /><p></p>Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-48582640615776155682010-09-13T13:22:00.000-07:002010-09-13T13:45:06.417-07:00Back from rehab<em>The role of Dr. Drew shall be played by Coach Scott in this blog post.</em><br /><br />I had about 2 weeks off from training, and normally when one needs to take time off you taper down. But, as mentioned in the previous blog post, everything quickly came to a halt. "We had to take drastic measures" Coach Scott says. So let me tell you about my little trip through training rehab.<br /><br />The reason I call it "rehab" is because everyone that trains is a meth head. The body gets used to inputs (training, meth, whatever) and when you suddenly stop, the body isn't too happy. The first few days I felt like crap and had no energy, despite doing nothing related to training. My sleep was all jacked up and I was very jittery and anxious. About half way through the first week I came down with a migraine headache, most likely from the withdrawl of not training. How whacked out is this?!? I just wanted to sit around and relax and enjoy my time off, but the body was having none of that.<br /><br />The following week had a few 20 minute easy workouts. The first run I tried felt like agony. I couldn't even gut out 20 minutes of running. Obviously not enough time off. So the rest of the week I continued to rest from anything swim, bike, run related. Instead I diverted my energy to working on the house. That weekend I was out of town, and found there's nothing like travel to make you feel like a slug. Lots of sitting around on planes and in airports, and no restrictions on eating. Cold Stone ice cream at 12 AM? Let's go! (Yes, this really did happen).<br /><br />I got back home Sunday night, and was ready to go. In the airport I had e-mailed Coach Scott to please give me a workout on Monday, which is normally my rest day. I was requesting a <strong>workout</strong> on my <strong>rest day</strong>! That morning I headed out for a run, which was one of the best runs ever. No worries about heart rate or time, just going out and running. My trip was to New York City, and after that I really appreciated to be able to leave directly from my front door and run and be surrounded by the quiet desert.<br /><br />My enthusiasm towards training came back down to regular levels later that week, and I'm pretty much back to the routine of normal training. The goal is to get through the race in Maui, and then I'll take time off from the structured training routine for more of a mental break. I'm not scheduling any races between now and Oct 24th (so far) because mentally I'm just not there and in the racing mood. Too much over the summer, so I'm still recovering from that.Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-23419563347944486972010-08-13T19:03:00.000-07:002010-08-13T19:56:58.781-07:00Training ALL STOP<a href="http://www.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/4843744/2/istockphoto_4843744-ship-s-telegraph.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 252px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 380px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/4843744/2/istockphoto_4843744-ship-s-telegraph.jpg" /></a><br /><div><p>Nothing is broken, and I'm not injured. But I will be taking a break from training over the next 10 days or so.</p></div><div></div><div><p>What has happened is a massive amount of cumulative fatigue. At first I thought I was burned out from racing, so I just stopped signing up for races, and trudged my way through the races that I had already paid for (you'll notice a lack of race reports over the past couple of months because of this). This past week is when everything completely fell apart. <p>On Friday last week, I ran 2.5 miles in to Saguaro East with Ryan, my running partner, and then we turned around and ran back out. So we got the worst of the hills twice. Then on Saturday I did the Lemmon Squeezy ride up to Palisades and was hurting. At first I thought it was the previous day's run. All morning I had comments like "What's wrong with you?" "I never see you on this ride and you were right in front of me the entire time" "I never keep up with you except today". Ugh. Let me tell you that when you are mentally beating up yourself over your performance, it is 10X worse when it comes from 5 different people passing you. I felt like I should crawl into a hole and die instead. Then on Sunday Zac and I went up to Sunrise to ride the downhill trails, and I managed 2 very slow runs down. It was all I could manage to get down the mountain. I took a nap in my Jeep in the parking lot, then we headed home when the mountain closed and Zac had finished his 8 runs down the mountain.</p></div><div></div><div><p>This is when things got really bad. Monday was my rest day, so nothing out of the ordinary there. Tuesday I was insanely tired and never did my planned ride. Wednesday I met Ryan for our morning run, where I was supposed to do 5 speed intervals of 2-3 min each. I manged two of them. The first made me think "There's no way I can do five of these." On the second, I had a horrible pain in my chest (a cramp), I couldn't control my breathing, and my heartrate was insanely high. I told Ryan I wasn't feeling well, and too many red flags had been thrown, so I was just going to run slower and calm down. He was a bit concerned, thinking he was going to have to give me a piggy back ride to get back to the car. But we made it back, and I slowly gutted out the core workout for the week in the gym. Thursday my alarm went off at 5 AM for my ride, and the body said "Oh hell no this is NOT happening." So I went back to bed for another 1.5 hours, but still felt like crap when I got up.</p></div><div></div><div><p>I was a mess and falling apart. So that morning I e-mailed Coach Scott, pouring out my entire mess of a week, and my mental freak out. How was I going to survive the next several weeks of training? If I don't train, I'm not going to survive the XTERRA Worlds race at Maui. If I don't train, I'm going to end up clinging to a kayak in the ocean, walking my bike on every uphill, and walking the entire run course. Was I going to be just a spectator instead of a participant? I was spiraling out of control. I could no longer mentally push through the fatigue. My brain was cashing in the chips on this season and there was no way the body was going to go anywhere. I titled my e-mail "Falling apart this week."</p></div><div></div><div><p>The response I got just about brought me to tears. The first line from Scott was "I know exactly what to do. I have seen this a thousand times in the last 20 years of endurance sports." I was then told I needed a break immediately, and needed to stop everything right now. No swimming, biking, or running, and only walking allowed. I am, quite literally, burnt and trashed. I had to get complete rest and bring the systems back to normal. He said there is overreaching and overtraining, and we are at the overreaching stage but borderline overtrained, and have to get a handle on it right now. But, he said it is not bad and it is part of the training cycle. It's hard to catch ahead of time but we are in a good spot right now.</p></div><div></div><div><p>So first up is no training at all over the weekend. I'm supposed to sleep insane amounts and eat a ton of carbs and everything in sight. No holds barred. Given my fried mental state this is the best plan EVER! I can handle this. Scott has jumped into action, piecing my season back together with the enthusiasm of a cheerleader. The only rule is, I have to follow the instructions. I can't be out training when he says rest or else I'll make it worse. Right now he knows we can get me back online for Maui and salvage the season, but only if I follow the instructions. If you are stuck in a hole and someone throws you a rope, you don't start cutting at the rope. The final words from Scott were, "I'm all over it." This is exactly why having a coach is so valuable. Had I been on my own I'd still be out there trying to train through the fatigue and pain, which would only make everything worse. You get a coach's brains and experience, which keep you grounded when stuff like this happens. Sometimes you can't self-diagnose what is going on.</p></div><div></div><div><p>Needless to say, I won't be able to do the final Easy Peasy Lemmon Squeezy Ride. At first I thought I could if I went really slow, but the more I rest the worse I feel. This ride is supposed to be fun, and I don't want to be a liability to anyone out there. So instead I will be a mobile cheer station and SAG (support and gear) wagon, hauling water for the riders on what will be a very warm day. I'm still going to party at The Cookie Cabin at the end, and since I'm under orders to eat a ton of food you'd better believe I'll be partaking of the pizza and cookies there.</p></div><div></div><div><p>I had heard of overtraining, but not overreaching. I had to Google these terms together to find out what the difference was. This is a whole new type of fatigue I'm feeling. I've noticed in endurance sports there are many different kinds of fatigue. There's the "lack of sleep" fatigue with the hazy headache and all. There's the "I ran too many hills yesterday" fatigue. There's the "Ironman fatigue" that lasts for weeks and weeks. At first you feel like you've been hit by a truck, but weeks later when you try to train you feel this deep muscle fatigue lingering. But this is a brand new one. Right now, the more I rest the worse I feel. I have no energy for doing basic tasks. And when I try to rest I have this jittery feeling, kind of like being amped up on too much caffeine. Yet I am dead tired. And my legs are still sore from Wednesday's run, which is not normal.</p></div><div></div><div><p>No one talks about this stuff on training message boards. Everyone is busy flexing their muscles and showing off what insane training workouts they did over the weekend and proving how awesome they are. Maybe most feel that if they admit they are fatigued, then it's a sign of weakness. Well, I'm here to admit it, because if you go through it you are a normal human.</p></div><div></div><div><p>Anyways, thanks to everyone that has sent me messages and e-mailed their best wishes. I didn't want anyone to think I had seriously injured myself or had snapped my body in half riding my mountain bike (although that would be a cooler story, but would require longer recovery). Over the next 10 days or so, look for me behind a plate of food or under the covers.</p></div>Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-33799702401441464402010-07-26T09:35:00.000-07:002010-07-26T09:53:38.332-07:00Green Mountain trail runThis summer is heavy on the Lemmon, with the Easy Peasy Lemmon Squeezy rides on Saturdays for 6 weeks in a row. I usually need to get some sleep after a week of training, so not getting up at 4:30 AM on Sunday means heading to higher elevation for later morning trail runs. On Sunday, I was able to convice Zac to come with me for a trail run on Mt. Lemmon. We had ridden to Windy Point the day before as part of the EPLS ride, so the legs were definitely tired. I promised him it would be an easy pace, and probably more hiking than anything.<br /><br />The original plan was to park at the San Pedro Vista (the destination for next week's EPLS ride), and run the Brush Corral trail. However, as we drove up the mountain, we noticed dark clouds overhead. We got to Rose Canyon and it was sprinkling. By the time we got to the San Pedro Vista, it was pouring. We looked around and there was no sunlight in sight. I really didn't want to get drenched for an hour, so we turned around and headed back down the mountain. We decided to try the lower Green Mountain trail. It's nice that in just a few miles on Mt. Lemmon you can have completely different weather. At the Green Mountain parking lot, it was just cloudy and still cool enough for a run.<br /><br />Normally mountain bikers travel this trail in the opposite direction to make it mostly downhill. We would be starting at the bottom, so for us it would be a climb up and then a run back down. The weather was great, and we just had a light sprinkle during the middle part of the run. It was sunny lower on the mountain, so the clouds overhead in this area were perfect. The trail is quite technical in spots as you climb up, with a ton of undercut water bars and granite rocks. For us it was mostly a hike, with a few sections of running thrown in when the trail flattened out. We turned around at the 1.5 mile mark and headed back down, which was a heck of a lot easier. But it was a nice break from running the road and the desert trails at the lower elevations.<br /><br /><div><div>I've perfected taking pictures while running and riding. :)</div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498255308333902578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizhYDs1R4Fsbz_ctR4T9b3PHQZ8QZc4T3l0xtJgiYe9q67ZHStD5kQcjb1nVMd3lPFpXrKXSA9LxfBDsBupToap0jOjsTUn_pyyu6kbMcmDHClcJmx-W1bl-W265dmyM4fHmeUF-NjmGY/s400/GreenMtn+001.JPG" /></div><div> </div><div>Zac and I trying not to fall of the rock.<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498255315167731426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLyuONraTKIloIs83avdMwQWkVkFlvlk0cXo6JQpwfltRK3ql1w7rTnu76KVMnEtIyianzfSb4KbgL4Uv38Gwk1kpZBFJNX_Gp8j1RpLMCdriOFj4FFHBYy9l5DsK-wVKyekYGUWbGUqE/s400/GreenMtn+003.JPG" /><br />The "green" portion of Green Mountain. This part we could actually run.<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498255327748904050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcYNNziiIuRzLo8rLz1ctY2p_bBQRPauRkzHGr38oBYMSylkydLTYNNIhKrOQfHCkXoZvCtsGl_UcBZM4kgdSxJqPNc2QjV0F3ws9WVZtnBYYd-Q2jC1szP3CAXwJ6KZq6p6-NKOFX2Lg/s400/GreenMtn+006.JPG" /><br /><div></div>Hard to believe this is just a few miles from Tucson.<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498255332511754834" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2BY6oZkkzxougjWTSEaNgzxez9opCyFAbmWI1hIUd2Bl-Pk9VkqUKa5L4j8x8wx7e_dErDUQns7dM5gK1c_PoAK2nuyti_GrYQRf7vQT-j3aq8GlO2c4Mirb1TxdSE3BdY_so0REFG4/s400/GreenMtn+007.JPG" /></div>Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-48599714229496756482010-07-18T20:58:00.000-07:002010-07-19T12:17:33.965-07:00Singlespeed!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi_ILaXzW-cos7LG3cWPHPNRK3N4-W7N9F8VtH0SVDK3FfY6Z3jnCBulqrIE-t_1hZiqP44qI98aM_sjKbdCujZd9P973zvInsZNGY1z8McSKdvFJ78TLKHp2qtHUfVlYz5GRRcqNK6mM/s1600/singlespeed+002.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495461991794667010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi_ILaXzW-cos7LG3cWPHPNRK3N4-W7N9F8VtH0SVDK3FfY6Z3jnCBulqrIE-t_1hZiqP44qI98aM_sjKbdCujZd9P973zvInsZNGY1z8McSKdvFJ78TLKHp2qtHUfVlYz5GRRcqNK6mM/s400/singlespeed+002.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />There are many internet articles about singlespeeding. They go into how deep it is, how rich of a feeling you get experiencing the ride, how simple it is and in that simplicity you can unravel the complexity of life, etc. I don't know how singlespeeding can stop a war, but these folks feel it can. It can also solve world hunger. And do your taxes.<br /><br />Personally, this is not how I arrived at the door of the singlespeed world. My hardtail mountain bike has been getting less action lately. This was my first real mountian bike, and it's about 10 years old. I keep it around as a back-up bike, and to let friends borrow to see if they like mountian biking. But as for me, I just wasn't riding it as much. The drivetrain and other components needed to be replaced. I just couldn't see spending money when I wasn't riding it that much. Then I got the idea...turn it into a singlespeed! I don't have a singlespeed, I had never tried it, but what the heck. The hardtail would be perfect for it. So for a whopping $35 investment in parts, it was converted over.<br /><br />I took the bike out for it's first ride as a SS last night. It's nice to have the old parts that were giving it problems removed. No more gummy shifters. No more tweaked and worn out derailleur. I need to put a different seat on it since the old one is worn out and uncomfortable, but other than that it's working pretty well. I just tooled around the neighborhood and river path, so I'd like to take it out to Fantasy Island to see what it's like on a real trail system. I think it will give me a fresh look at Fantasy Island too. I've done so many miles out there that it became boring after awhile. But now I have something new to try!<br /><br />I'll let you know when I've solved world hunger.Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-64342032631794246822010-07-09T08:16:00.000-07:002010-07-09T09:20:50.408-07:00Picacho Peak Time TrialOne thing I've noticed in the difference between training with a coach and training on your own is that a coach comes up with training ideas that you'd never try on your own, because normally you think those ideas are crazy. Like running the Saguaro East loop, for example. I feel the loop should always be done on a bike, but there it was on the plan...run the loop. So I ran the loop, and survived despite wanting to steal people's bikes as they rode by. The downhills are way more fun on a bike.<br /><br />So I pulled up my training plan for the week to see "Picacho Peak TT? Let me know if you want to do this" on my plan for Sunday the 20th of June. A time trial? Me? On the ROAD?!? Wait a sec how is this supposed to help for XTERRA training? "Good baseline for fitness." Well, I had just picked up that aerohelmet at Deuces Wild. I should probably put the thing to use. Besides, other Tri Girls had done the previous race, so maybe I'd see some of them there. *sigh* Fine. I'll do it. If it involves a bike, I'll try it at least once.<br /><br />I got up crazy early on race morning and drove to California. Well, actually Arizona City which may as well be in California when you're coming from NE Tucson. Arizona City, by the way, is just south of the Casa Grande outlets for those wondering. Yes, I had to look it up on the map.<br /><br />I arrived at the race, wondering how this was going to go down. Each aspect of cycling has it's own culture. The downhill mountain bikers usually have one-word sentences involving a lot of "Dude", "Whoa!", and "Awesome!" and they are all about the beer and sometimes the "herbal supplements." They do a run on their bikes and then it's all about the partying. Sometimes the partying hinders the riding. Then there's the cross country mountain bikers, also very concerned about beer and parties and, most importantly, schwag. Free socks? They're in. Roadies I can't comment on as I've never done one of their races. But the triathlon crowd I know a lot about. Most think they are the uptight ones. They are all about body mass, body image, complex carbohydrates, peeing on the bike, and where to put the M-dot tattoo. On the XTERRA side of triathlon I can say the mountain bike influence takes over and they are much more laid back. But the TT crowd made triathletes look like the downhill crowd.<br /><br />As I drove through the parking lot looking for a parking space, I began to take it all in. People were setting up their own little areas by their cars. They pulled out EZ ups, trainers or rollers, and starting riding nowhere. For 40-60 minutes they rode nowhere in a parking lot in Arizona City. My trainer was at home, where it belonged because it was no longer winter and dark out. I parked my car, signed up for the race, paid my $30, and wandered around. I actually ran into people that I knew from work or, oddly enough, triathlon message boards. I said hello and that it was my first race, but holding a conversation was tough. Everyone was very focused on getting ready for the race and riding nowhere, so I felt like I shouldn't bother them and cut the conversation short. Except for Andy, who I know from the aforementioned triathlon message board, and he was willing to chat a bit. I overheard others in the parking lot discussing the wind. Apparently the wind was a big factor. I looked and the trees in the parking lot were dead still. I went back to the car and fiddled with my bike and was relieved when the TriSports rig pulled up and Shari hopped out. Oh thank goodness! Someone to talk to!!! Otherwise I would have spent 30 minutes awkwardly fiddling with my bike for no reason.<br /><br />I have no idea how they determined the order riders were going in, but I was at the back of the 40K group. We had the choice of 20K or 40K, but I didn't drive all the way to the other side of the world for 20K. I tooled around up and down the road in the opposite direction from the race course, then lined up. The people around me were dressed in their outfits, which are meant to maximize aerodynamics. Everyone was in a onesie, because you know, the seam between your shorts and jersey would be too much drag. Everything was skin tight. Sperm head aero helmets were everywhere. And people were wearing booties, but not to keep their feet warm. Nope, the velcro on your shoes could be too much drag, so you have to put an aerodynamic bootie over it. I was lucky to be wearing my TTG cycling jersey, only because Joyce had warned that it's against the rules to be in a sleeveless jersey as her husband found out. I had also stayed up late the night before doing important pre-race prep of putting pirate girl stickers all over my new aerohelmet. If you're going to look goofy in a sperm head helmet, you may as well rock it with some awesome stickers.<br /><br />I rolled up to the starting line where there were 2 officials. One guy was there to count down and wave his hand in front of you "5...4...3...2...1" and then you go. Reminds me of Wayne's World..."you didn't say 2 or 1." And the other guy awkwardly holds the back of your bike so that you can be clipped in and ready to roll when the finger guy drops the "1" finger. I say awkwardly, because it's weird to have someone hold your bike from behind when you're over the age of 5. I have pretty good bike handling skills and can roll really slow and trackstand for short periods of time (not the minutes like Zac can) and not fall over. But this guy grabbed my bike and it had a slight tilt to the right, so that I was leaning to the right. I couldn't wait for the hand to drop just so I could start rolling. The finger guy did his thing and I was off.<br /><br />What I can say is that the next hour and some odd minutes were the most boring of my life. The 5 or so people that were behind me passed me in the first 5 minutes, so I was alone. You go in 30 second intervals, so for someone slower like me, you don't really see anyone. I saw a few people going the other direction and finishing up their race. Other than that, it's a lot of staring at the white line. I had also not ridden my tri bike in awhile, or been in the aerobars, so the seating position wasn't the most comfortable. I had the roughness of the road to keep me entertained, dodging potholes and rough spots. There were wildflowers still in bloom which was nice. And all the cars that passed me were nice and left lots of room. I reached the turnaround where the officials were, then headed back. There was a slight tailwind pushing me back, but nothing like the winds I've had on other bike rides. This was windy??? Oh well. I was the last person out there, so it was hard to stay motivated and keep pushing. I sat up for a bit, just to take the painful pressure off. I passed the 5K sign, so I got back in the aerobars so that I looked like I knew what I was doing and was part of the crowd for the group waiting around at the finish. But wait, where was the finish? I rolled past a guy in a gardening hat and past where the start tent had been, which was now taken down. "Oh well, there's the entrance to the parking lot, I guess I'm done" I thought to myself.<br /><br />The place was a ghost town. Only Shari was there at the finish waiting for me, just to make sure I was ok. I appreciated it, since I had come up there alone. Always nice to know someone is looking out for you at a race. Everyone had packed up and gone home after their run was over. No party, no schwag, no beer, NO SNACKS. That's right. There were no snacks at the end. How can there be an athletic event with no snacks at the end? Not only that, but no water either. Humph. What did my $30 cover? Surely some of that could go to some bagels and orange slices. Heck, the weekly aquathlons in the park have a better spread.<br /><br />So, with all of that, I could hardly call the event "fun." It just isn't my bag. I like the social aspect of races. Heck, half the time that's where I see some people the most. And staring at a white line for over an hour is mind numbing. Kind of like riding the trainer.<br /><br />My stickered helmet:<br /><br /><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs133.snc4/36997_1425797919858_1080075085_1176811_3035770_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472419483344329938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs133.snc4/36997_1425797919858_1080075085_1176811_3035770_n.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/hs073.ash2/36997_1425797959859_1080075085_1176812_5872617_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472419483344329938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/hs073.ash2/36997_1425797959859_1080075085_1176812_5872617_n.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs153.snc4/36997_1425797999860_1080075085_1176813_4522977_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472419483344329938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs153.snc4/36997_1425797999860_1080075085_1176813_4522977_n.jpg" border="0" /></a>Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-89692711097452274412010-07-08T12:14:00.000-07:002010-07-08T20:15:08.142-07:00XTERRA Deuces WildI love to do this race every year, and this year was no exception. Normally XTERRA Deuces Wild is followed a week later by XTERRA Four Corners. But this year the scheduling didn't work out and they fell on the same weekend, with 4 Corners on Saturday and Deuces on Sunday. I wasn't going to blow my race at Deuces by racing on tired legs, and I know how long the drive between Show Low and Farmington is, and I wasn't going to miss out on the Deuces raffle. Deuces is a superior course, and all the Tri Girls were going to be there, so 4 Corners was getting cut from my schedule this year.<br /><br />Zac and I left on Saturday morning to get to the race with enough time to see the TTGs finishing up the road triathlons. That evening we went to the raffle, where I won a set of LG tri shoes, and Liane won an aerohelmet. We did some trading and switched prizes, and it worked out well. Sunday morning we arrived early and got set up in transition. Zac would once again be doing the relay with Shari, with her swimming, him doing the mountain bike, and her doing the trail run. The water wasn't as cold as last year, which was great.<br /><br />I had all of my wisdom teeth pulled 2 weeks before this race, so my training leading up to it wasn't the greatest. I decided to take all the pressure off and just go out there and do the race and not worry about it. I got in the water, and decided to go out easy on the swim. This race I actually swam really straight with no navigation issues. I started catching and passing the guys that had a 4 minute head start on us, and only had a few issues getting around some of them that liked to swim in S patterns. I felt really good in the water, which is why when I stood up on the boat ramp I was shocked to see a swim time of 21 minutes. I had done the swim last year in 17 minutes, and my first year racing in 22 minutes. No way had I lost that much time. After the race I checked the results and lots of times for people that I know are fast swimmers were much longer, so I decided the course had to be long.<br /><br />T1 went well, then it was time for my favorite part of the day, the mountain bike. I crushed the downhills and then was disappointed to see the gate to the forest was shut. Last year a rail in the fence was knocked down so that we could hop over. This year I had to lift the bike over the fence, then climb over. Oh well, this happens all the time on other trails so it wasn't too big of a deal. Then it was time for the climb and the usual log crossings. Except this year there had been a lot of trail erosion. The log that we normally climb over had a huge gap between the underside of the log and the trail. I decided to lay the bike down, crawl under the log, and drag my bike under like a dead body.<br /><br />After that it was the usual climb up the trail, and this year I made it much further up the hill than previous years. The trail was in great shape. The massive downhill followed, which was a blast, then back through the forest and over the fence before heading back to transition. On the road I saw that I was getting close to the 1:40 mark for my bike split, and wanted to have my split be under that. So I hammered on the road up the hill to transition, passing a couple of guys giving me strange looks like "why the heck is this crazy chick hammering into transition???" and hopped off the bike with an official bike split of 1:39:42. Woohoo! Small victories.<br /><br />It was hot by the time I hit the run course, but I did my best to run as much as possible. My pace was definitely slower than last year, but it was also 20 degrees warmer. I didn't want to do anything stupid out there, so I made sure I was always comfortable. The lake crossing wasn't too high this year, but it was so hot that I splashed through it to get wet. Then this year there was a "shortcut" option, where we could cut across the swamp and back into the lake before heading up the boat ramp. Heck yeah I'm doing that! I made it as far as I could in the mud and then splashed down and started swimming. My trail shoes filled with water and sank like a rock so my form wasn't exactly the best. Zac, Nate, and the TTGs were on the shore cheering, and I was happy to get out because I had less than a mile to go. Some chick came by pushing hard, but there was no way I was going to follow. I just kept going along at my happy pace. I finished in 3:13, which is only 1 minute slower than last year. The chick that blazed by me was in a chair and the medics were looking at here. There were a bunch of people looking pretty bad in the shade at the finish, but I felt great and was glad I wasn't one of them.<br /><br />I got my awesome finish line popsicle, then we headed over to the lunch area and met up with the other TTGs. I slowly ate some watermelon while I waited for the digestive system to reboot and come back online. It was awhile before I could nibble at the Mexican food provided at the lunch. We waited for awards, and Zac & Shari took 1st place in the relay and got cool trophies! Zac and I changed, got some more food, and headed back to Tucson. Overall an awesome weekend!<br /><br /><em>Zac rockin' the Elvis jersey for the race:</em><br /><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs552.ash1/32228_1469344543362_1526055091_31188861_6324303_n.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472419483344329938" border="0" alt="" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs552.ash1/32228_1469344543362_1526055091_31188861_6324303_n.jpg" /></a><br /><em>Start of the women's wave of the swim:</em><br /><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs612.snc3/32228_1469345023374_1526055091_31188869_7231990_n.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472419483344329938" border="0" alt="" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs612.snc3/32228_1469345023374_1526055091_31188869_7231990_n.jpg" /></a><br /><em>Done with the bike:</em><br /><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs552.ash1/32228_1469345183378_1526055091_31188872_2638436_n.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472419483344329938" border="0" alt="" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs552.ash1/32228_1469345183378_1526055091_31188872_2638436_n.jpg" /></a><br /><em>Heading into the water on the trail swim:</em><br /><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs612.snc3/32228_1469345983398_1526055091_31188888_28358_n.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472419483344329938" border="0" alt="" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs612.snc3/32228_1469345983398_1526055091_31188888_28358_n.jpg" /></a><br /><em>Splashdown!<br /></em><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs612.snc3/32228_1469346023399_1526055091_31188889_3094724_n.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472419483344329938" border="0" alt="" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs612.snc3/32228_1469346023399_1526055091_31188889_3094724_n.jpg" /></a><br /><em>Swimming the trail swim:</em><br /><a href="http://hphotos-snc3.fbcdn.net/hs612.snc3/32228_1469346063400_1526055091_31188890_2418522_n.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472419483344329938" border="0" alt="" src="http://hphotos-snc3.fbcdn.net/hs612.snc3/32228_1469346063400_1526055091_31188890_2418522_n.jpg" /></a><br /><em>Emerging on the other side:</em><br /><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs612.snc3/32228_1469346103401_1526055091_31188891_1806747_n.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472419483344329938" border="0" alt="" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs612.snc3/32228_1469346103401_1526055091_31188891_1806747_n.jpg" /></a><br /><em>The finish!</em><br /><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs612.snc3/32228_1469346183403_1526055091_31188893_5494106_n.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472419483344329938" border="0" alt="" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs612.snc3/32228_1469346183403_1526055091_31188893_5494106_n.jpg" /></a><br /><em>Shari & Zac with their cool trophies:</em><br /><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs652.snc3/32228_1469319062725_1526055091_31188511_426058_n.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472419483344329938" border="0" alt="" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs652.snc3/32228_1469319062725_1526055091_31188511_426058_n.jpg" /></a>Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-51365871396121095172010-05-17T18:40:00.000-07:002010-05-18T06:01:52.345-07:00XTERRA King of the HillI was scheduled to be in Boston for a week of training May 10 – May 14. Before the trip I checked the national XTERRA race schedule, and noticed XTERRA King of the Hill was scheduled for May 16 in New Jersey. Google Maps showed a 5 hour drive between Boston and the race site in Lebanon, NJ. Not too bad. So I set to work figuring out the logistics of getting to the race with all of my gear.<br /><br />My first preference was to rent a mountain bike. I searched Google. I posted on the regional forums of Beginner Triathlete and Mountain Bike Review. I called bike shops that were sponsors of the race. I e-mailed the race director and people in AZ that I knew were from NJ. The result: mountain bikes are not for rent in NJ. Well, I should clarify. Mountain bikes that would hold up to an XTERRA bike course were not for rent. This is where I met my first division between west coast mountain biking and east coast. I’ve rented mountain bikes in the west with no issues, and no one even batting an eye at the thought. But on the east coast I got a lot of “Um, no one rents mountain bikes. This isn’t really a tourist area for mountain bikers.” If you want a beach cruiser for rolling along the Jersey Shore, no problem. But a bike for XTERRA racing…no dice.<br /><br />Ok, on to Plan B, which was to disassemble my Blur and pack it in its flight box and fly it with me. The problem with this are the airline fees. Some think UPS or FedEx would be cheaper. And years ago they were. In 2003 I shipped my Bullit in a larger hard case from Tucson to Downieville, CA for $45 with insurance. Now it costs $150 to ship a bike via UPS or FedEx. I decided on Southwest, because a bike flies for $50, and there are no fees for the other checked bag. Also in my logistical planning was where to fly into. Into and out of different airports would mean I would get stuck with a hefty fee from the rental car place. So I decided on the halfway point and to fly into Hartford, CT.<br /><br />I spent several hours cleaning the bike before packing it because it still had dirt and residue from Saipan on it. Then I removed both pedals, wheels, disc brakes, brake calipers, real derailleur, and handlebars. What follows next is padding the bike so that it would survive in the box. I used a lot of old race T-shirts to wrap parts, and foam insulation tubing for around the bike frame. My floor pump, Camelbak, and bike and trail running shoes all went in the box with the bike as additional padding and stuffing to keep the frame from moving around.<br /><br /><em>Mountain bike ready to fly.</em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinRwey4x1yWdBh5PjxdDSiUK_xxJyR1QpamfErtxgDOLB1h0QIuY4yKbVEkAuyknR4ZyGUPK6hPRcrhGYycNYYvU7JG5Fw4Lj127-pfEICNfsVLyNiHkNax02rVmLetQKZtsZ6DUarmlo/s1600/XTERRA_KOTH+024.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472419483344329938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinRwey4x1yWdBh5PjxdDSiUK_xxJyR1QpamfErtxgDOLB1h0QIuY4yKbVEkAuyknR4ZyGUPK6hPRcrhGYycNYYvU7JG5Fw4Lj127-pfEICNfsVLyNiHkNax02rVmLetQKZtsZ6DUarmlo/s400/XTERRA_KOTH+024.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The entire bike box was 67 lbs, along with 47 lbs of a roll-on luggage bag with all of my race gear and clothes for 10 days. Pulling those two items around the airport alone can be a pain, but I learned you just have to go slow. People in airports are also very curious about a girl toting around a huge, plastic trapezoid. In Hartford I got about five questions of what was in my box. I was too worn out and tired to make up something cool, but then again an entire mountain bike in a box that small is pretty impressive. It also makes everyone think you are some big wig bike racer. Who else would haul all that stuff around an airport?<br /><br />The next hinge in my logistical plan was the rental car. I absolutely had to get an SUV or something of the like. I had Emerald Isle service through work, which meant I would be eyeing an HHR, Dodge Nitro, or worst-case a PT Cruiser. When the shuttle dropped me off there was a lone, red HHR left in the isle. Score! I folded down the rear seats and loaded the bike box on its side, followed by my luggage. It all fit, no problem.<br /><br />I drove to Boston, and the next day put my bike together. I labeled all of my foam pieces so that disassembly and packing after the race would be much easier. During the week I rode a local trail that was only 3 miles from my hotel (see the Merrimack River Trail post below). I was stuck in a classroom from 8 AM to 5 PM every day, but it was awesome to have my bike with me and hit the trail before or after class. I took advantage of the extended daylight the east coast has and rode the trail any time I could.<br /><br />On Friday our class ended early, so I loaded the bike box, luggage, and my assembled bike in the HHR and drove the 5 hours down to New Jersey. The drive wasn’t bad, and the next day I hit the bike course for a pre-ride to see what I would be in for the next day. While out on the course I ran into a guy named Kenny, who was stapling XTERRA arrows to trees. He worked for Green Brook Racing (the race company putting on the XTERRA) so I chatted with him for a bit and asked about the course. After my pre-ride, he and the race director, Joe, and the rest of the crew headed to lunch and invited me along. A very friendly bunch and a great group of folks!<br /><br />The next morning I didn’t have to be up until 6:30 AM. The race didn’t start until 10AM! This was awesome! Joe, the race director said that it was usually cold and overcast in the mornings and beautiful by that time of day, so they found they got more competitors when they pushed back the race time. I got to transition early, set up my bike and gear, and got my numbers at registration.<br /><br /><em>Transition area in The Garden State.</em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJXCvc7igxC9x_Y7C8qgyPf7WE_IiaZnWXhUQVW_HoO8SI5SdM-wmTzNdRi-hzMr1tnFd8DQ7AF0-KAWJ3RQ5UfpV2xQVtFLP16FDukuDnB7AlSkaKDYnPEb0P3PbnUImnXs0Ae_tcfN8/s1600/XTERRA_KOTH+001.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472419490664173234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJXCvc7igxC9x_Y7C8qgyPf7WE_IiaZnWXhUQVW_HoO8SI5SdM-wmTzNdRi-hzMr1tnFd8DQ7AF0-KAWJ3RQ5UfpV2xQVtFLP16FDukuDnB7AlSkaKDYnPEb0P3PbnUImnXs0Ae_tcfN8/s400/XTERRA_KOTH+001.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><em>I got a great spot in transition.</em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6BgLDwn6keNarJLp9uNGTo0WJsjU6Jc-GdkSezUruojHo7-2YKF02xfFDg9RtjkRn1BCDGs2IL1B78FuTrCVIgcmDCKvDruFiKYwepD7KunHR63K1Vn9_H02QyYdChAbBwSZlMB5vsb0/s1600/XTERRA_KOTH+019.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472419499876242194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6BgLDwn6keNarJLp9uNGTo0WJsjU6Jc-GdkSezUruojHo7-2YKF02xfFDg9RtjkRn1BCDGs2IL1B78FuTrCVIgcmDCKvDruFiKYwepD7KunHR63K1Vn9_H02QyYdChAbBwSZlMB5vsb0/s400/XTERRA_KOTH+019.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We had a pre-race meeting at 9:30 AM, and then it was time to get in the water for a warm-up. The race was held at the Round Valley Recreation Area, where there’s a huge lake. But we weren’t swimming in the main lake, and instead were swimming in a smaller lake over a spillway. It was kind of nice because there was a nice beach, no boats, and it was small for easy sighting. I got in the water, which was 66 degrees, and did a quick swim before getting out and heading to the start up the beach. This XTERRA started with a beach run (rather than the run being in the middle of two swim laps), then two laps of an out & back along a line of buoys. The beach run took me 1.5 minutes before I jumped in the water. There were 126 racers in the XTERRA and only 20 women, so when I got in the water I was already at the back of the pack. I tried to calm down on the first lap since the heart rate had shot up on the run. I turned at the buoy and found the major disadvantage to an out & back swim course. People like to follow the buoys, which means a higher probability of having a head-on collision with someone coming from the other direction. I moved over a bit and kept sighting every 4 strokes so that I wouldn’t crash into anyone. I got out and ran around the marker pole on the beach, and jumped in for the second swim lap. With everyone getting out and in the lake in the same area, the mud had churned up so it was hard to see until I got to deeper water. I started pulling hard on the second lap, and came out of the water in 15:50. Not too bad for an 880 yard swim including a beach run.<br /><br /><em>Super easy swim course</em>.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZW26XRyyHOitc1CiprvbKd9De3mAXHGx2vo5ZHv5Y4Tnj_VbZ6KTpPURHZy2E85fCXTcSDuGcXh4ZbWwZuglcImUirWIDZRnmqLoyyl5_CDCJAYO7jFGEy8MwSeZ1Xms22VUQO18Fngw/s1600/XTERRA_KOTH+020.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472419508620173042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZW26XRyyHOitc1CiprvbKd9De3mAXHGx2vo5ZHv5Y4Tnj_VbZ6KTpPURHZy2E85fCXTcSDuGcXh4ZbWwZuglcImUirWIDZRnmqLoyyl5_CDCJAYO7jFGEy8MwSeZ1Xms22VUQO18Fngw/s400/XTERRA_KOTH+020.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I got to my transition area and looked behind me. Some of the other girls that I knew were in my age group were behind me, and I wanted to beat them out of transition. I got the wetsuit off, threw on the bike gear, and ran my bike up the hill out of transition. This being XTERRA, there were cement stairs heading down the hill, and we had to ride the stairs to get out on the bike course. It was so much fun! I love riding stairs! Many elected to walk their bikes, or take a small dirt trail around the outside. We had a small stretch of pavement before the trails began, so I got my cycling gloves on in this area. Then we hit the trails and immediately began to climb on a fire road. The climb wasn’t too bad because there was an awesome and fast downhill right after. The guys that passed me on the climb were now getting passed by me as I flew down the hill. I swear I’m going to give up this triathlon thing and race Super D.<br /><br /><em>The start of the bike and run courses.</em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdh4VDHQTIgE1jjRwJJWHQEkI7qNPXKux48d2GAQyqreP6WNAUiOLaR_gFaiUXeS4o3GCgjsjQPaso_a2Ilb2zVvlC21QuxH5Bqt2AJSiVRSEC4-WR31C81n4cH6J8iThxnilb8WjjiE/s1600/XTERRA_KOTH+006.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472419521617296130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdh4VDHQTIgE1jjRwJJWHQEkI7qNPXKux48d2GAQyqreP6WNAUiOLaR_gFaiUXeS4o3GCgjsjQPaso_a2Ilb2zVvlC21QuxH5Bqt2AJSiVRSEC4-WR31C81n4cH6J8iThxnilb8WjjiE/s400/XTERRA_KOTH+006.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><em>The first climb on the bike course.</em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihx7lxvQCz5abQlnzCl-POCkekn0WfmQzw1RKl5o-TI-HZTkA4x_3AfofuV9NQB7liUvAI3qrHEDEvx3MkckHJlxu_ytZ-ViJ_5YKmOKr8bGDODPYcmzZuIaL89rfqoLPI8FhzGn4jnnc/s1600/XTERRA_KOTH+008.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472420054665303938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihx7lxvQCz5abQlnzCl-POCkekn0WfmQzw1RKl5o-TI-HZTkA4x_3AfofuV9NQB7liUvAI3qrHEDEvx3MkckHJlxu_ytZ-ViJ_5YKmOKr8bGDODPYcmzZuIaL89rfqoLPI8FhzGn4jnnc/s400/XTERRA_KOTH+008.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><em>View of the lake from the top of the first climb.<br /></em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu8OwD4opwNSQWWtyLB5EZ_sGmJAwXH_E9gUOqPRq0gZ9aHJ83UrMHHsFxdwjrvOtABI9Knu7_dFZOzL53rJVs19tcXckWpc0AywsAc4tJXEm3MBqwtWB_dR6D3LLkx_PP7ZuJEp-c91o/s1600/XTERRA_KOTH+011.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472420064621308258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu8OwD4opwNSQWWtyLB5EZ_sGmJAwXH_E9gUOqPRq0gZ9aHJ83UrMHHsFxdwjrvOtABI9Knu7_dFZOzL53rJVs19tcXckWpc0AywsAc4tJXEm3MBqwtWB_dR6D3LLkx_PP7ZuJEp-c91o/s400/XTERRA_KOTH+011.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It was important to get out in front of as many riders as possible, because we had a switchback section coming up on singletrack, and there wouldn’t be much room to pass. I entered into the top of the switchback section with a guy right on my tail, and I wanted to ditch him because I knew he was already looking to pass and was probably thinking I was going to be slow in this section. The trail headed down and I pushed the bike around under me while standing to limit braking and hold as much speed as possible. I caught another rider, but he hopped off on a slight incline and I was able to ease by and start the next section. The switchbacks weren’t too tight but still required some control. There were also a ton of tree roots that formed drop-offs in the middle of the trail. I grabbed the big ring to keep my chain from bouncing around and snaked my way down the switchback hill, catching air off of the roots. I was now at the speed where you “float” over objects in the trail. The guy behind me was nowhere to be seen. I was annihilating this section! Towards the end I caught up to a train of slower riders, but thankfully the two front guys dismounted and moved off to the side so I could get by. The trail popped out onto an open, grassy field, and then started up a gravel road. The very beginning involved another set of switchbacks on the climb, and riders all around me were getting off their bikes. I got into the inner ring and set to work spinning up the hill in a fast cadence, passing those that were walking.<br /><br /><em>The open, grassy field after the switchback section.<br /></em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbDBslaG0iMUSJlgwATZPfwMzXihEs9lAStMFQNwxvEq1QH4osnMCeE8nS_0AuVPBZGEtwGqvPwaQP66nOWn-HNLwSdpsNKKpNPg0XM42gwCkU0fZ63inb0UfR6NE3IfWfS9xZVPirOxU/s1600/XTERRA_KOTH+013.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472420073576186082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbDBslaG0iMUSJlgwATZPfwMzXihEs9lAStMFQNwxvEq1QH4osnMCeE8nS_0AuVPBZGEtwGqvPwaQP66nOWn-HNLwSdpsNKKpNPg0XM42gwCkU0fZ63inb0UfR6NE3IfWfS9xZVPirOxU/s400/XTERRA_KOTH+013.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><em>Riding through the trees</em>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguZvjZXpP5F3SRhUXpKAYzacvu4dQIEkZ_xYXOv6HX6tuz2jhyphenhyphenvFlUrQCyoz3tVEzzx9G5iOiTldyP3mzBkdfhevi29_sp_md9rYoIDTIedOWtL71i-Vr1flD-Q1vNAtFeoJiRdnVeyzY/s1600/XTERRA_KOTH+014.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472420083311716082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguZvjZXpP5F3SRhUXpKAYzacvu4dQIEkZ_xYXOv6HX6tuz2jhyphenhyphenvFlUrQCyoz3tVEzzx9G5iOiTldyP3mzBkdfhevi29_sp_md9rYoIDTIedOWtL71i-Vr1flD-Q1vNAtFeoJiRdnVeyzY/s400/XTERRA_KOTH+014.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><em>A tunnel of trees.</em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiygZgxaIqMHeL8omSjm8CTNvvepwUKxdABQFGN0cjBzq-zqAXakrhilz6_uXVU879F9G4UYoZ4HyZzEKtisqVxJ0gNKjxqI5pQCVrdN3qFR4bYJhvUoqPpmqCh2sIOInak2Rz_Nkthd7c/s1600/XTERRA_KOTH+015.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472420090826031970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiygZgxaIqMHeL8omSjm8CTNvvepwUKxdABQFGN0cjBzq-zqAXakrhilz6_uXVU879F9G4UYoZ4HyZzEKtisqVxJ0gNKjxqI5pQCVrdN3qFR4bYJhvUoqPpmqCh2sIOInak2Rz_Nkthd7c/s400/XTERRA_KOTH+015.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The fire road was the easy part of the climb. It was steep but the gravel made for good traction. The fire road ended and we split off onto another singletrack section, which was the major technical climb. I was in the granny gear now, but I was still spinning at a high cadence and climbing on the bike. I wanted to stay on the bike as much as possible. Riders were dismounting all around me, but I moved off to the side around them and kept going. I made it to a rooted section of trail before finally having to get off the bike and hike. But once I was through the roots I was back on and climbing. The trail was in the shaded forest now, but the shade wasn’t helping much. The humidity was super high, and combined with my high heart rate I was completely drenched.<br /><br />I climbed and climbed, pushing as hard as I could to stay with the group of riders I was in and staying on the lead lap. The course would double-back on itself, and I wanted to be done with the out & back before the leaders came through. Then, it happened. As I shifted gears on the climb, my legs suddenly spun with no resistance, but my back wheel was making an awful noise. I looked down to see the chain on the inside of the inner ring. I figured I had just dropped a chain on the climb, and hopped off and grabbed it to slide it back over the inner ring. The chain whipped around, revealing two open ends. I had broken a chain in the middle of my race!<br />I grabbed my bike and laid it on the ground off the trail. First things first, get the Camelbak off the back to get water weight off the body. I then assessed the mess in front of me. The chain was broken and wrapped in a mess in the rear cog. I grabbed the chain and set to work on unraveling the mess. My hands were shaking like mad and sweat was dripping off the front of my helmet. Going from race mode and Zone 5 heart rate to 0 in 2 seconds causes the body to do strange things. But I HAD to get this fixed! I was at the worst point in the trail. I was 3.5 miles in, so to hike out would be forever and would mean DNFing. I did NOT come all this way to DNF! But I couldn’t break the chain further and had to be careful. It was like diffusing a bomb. I carefully un-wedged it from the rear cog, then got it routed correctly through the rear derailleur.<br /><br />I reached into my Camelbak and pulled out my powerlink. I had been carrying this powerlink with me ever since I started XTERRA racing, 6 years ago. An entire link had broken, and the pin was long gone somewhere on the trail, so at least I didn’t have to use my chain break tool to push a pin out. I tore open the package, and one half of the link went flying onto the forest floor. GAH!!! I slowly dug through the leaves and rocks and finally found the tiny gold link. As I worked, the entire world passed me by. People would ask “Need any help?” and I said “No, I broke a chain.” Most would quietly say “oh” and keep riding because they couldn’t help. One guy that rode by responded “Did it fall off or is it really broken?” THAT comment sent me into a fury. WTF!!! Here I am working on my bike with two halves of chain in my hands trying to link them together and I have some IDIOT asking if it “just fell off?!?!” Like I couldn’t tell the difference between a chain that had broken and one that had fallen off?!? I mentally pushed him off his bike and gave him a Shimano heel to the nads.<br /><br />I put the pin ends of the powerlink through the open ends, then spent some time connecting the eyelets together. This is normally an easy operation any other time, but in the middle of a race with adrenaline spiking and hands shaking it becomes tough. Finally there was an audible snap as the link joined. I stood the bike up and shifted a few times to make sure it was working, then grabbed my Camelbak and got back in the line of bikers. I was now back with the stragglers. You do all this training to specifically NOT be a straggler and then one mechanical issue sends you back there. Many were walking, so I pedaled hard, trying to make up any time I could. I had lost about 10 minutes dealing with my chain, so there was no way to catch back up to the group I had been racing with. Thankfully there was a downhill, so I shifted into the big ring. Each shift made me cringe, wondering if the chain would snap in a different spot. But I had to keep going. I was now in the “irresponsibly fast” zone on the downhills but I didn’t care. I was dancing over the rocks and tree roots, and then hit the rock garden. Two guys were in the middle of the garden and going much slower. I grabbed the left line and said “on your left” and made it past. I was now free to pick up momentum again and make it through the garden. Then there was a hard left turn and we were on the campground road.<br /><br />The campground road is another gravel fire road about 2 miles long. Here I was passing other stragglers with mechanical issues. One guy couldn’t change his flat, but I couldn’t stop because I had already lost a ton of time dealing with my chain. Another guy that was in front of me stopped to help him. Another guy was walking his bike out with a tube draped over his handlebars. He had gotten 2 flats, and walking a bike means he obviously didn’t carry any patches with him. He had about 3 miles of walking to do at that rate. I climbed up onto another singletrack section that joined back up with the out & back of the course. I was finally headed back to transition. I hoped my bike would hold together long enough for me to get back there. On my way down I passed the course sweeper heading up the hill, and he said I had a mile of downhill. I took advantage of this and once again entered the crazy fast zone to make up as much time as I could.<br /><br /><em>Flowers alongside the singletrack.<br /></em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6qNi88KzIzVeffRrjiHZDKzfRoUEwriK2Ve0oC8zuOsFlQXwFr3AgxjLK4ZDmUTfQvLKecyS4SmscxEtQtJsRA9_agxLrNr1n8d1inWfGZeve6F51E8n6PF5UajJnUXwa_FcX_Rcdrgc/s1600/XTERRA_KOTH+016.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472420572957636946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6qNi88KzIzVeffRrjiHZDKzfRoUEwriK2Ve0oC8zuOsFlQXwFr3AgxjLK4ZDmUTfQvLKecyS4SmscxEtQtJsRA9_agxLrNr1n8d1inWfGZeve6F51E8n6PF5UajJnUXwa_FcX_Rcdrgc/s400/XTERRA_KOTH+016.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I crossed the open green field again, and started climbing the switchback section that we had come down earlier. It was much tougher going up than down, but I climbed what I could. I was demoralized at this point, just trying to salvage what I could of my race. But it was really hard to push with the same vigor that I had before the chain broke. I got back out on the last fire road, and started the last downhill on the fire road. I could see the lake at this point, and only had about a mile and a half to go. The next section I dreaded. It was a climb back up the fire road, but at this point the bike and run courses would intersect and I could see all the runners finishing up their races. It was horrible to see people I had been racing against out on the run course while I was still on the bike course. I made the turn onto the pavement, and had a fast downhill all the way back to transition. I got to transition and people were already done with their races and packing up. I racked my bike, threw on the running gear, and was out of there in 45 seconds.<br /><br /><em>Toboggan Hill</em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXSLU17NRvJHlSdVOEqv0bccfy34KMKOGh-iqZPTyLECqSO0UO0kR9HChXUSYe-LjHOxsl32spR51OL9AT9WmmJ0VBvMKVrvW_FfZH4lgbLTMBY9FdFr44bqbVCpGHqzSGBpP9kvswAQg/s1600/XTERRA_KOTH+018.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472420581579042098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXSLU17NRvJHlSdVOEqv0bccfy34KMKOGh-iqZPTyLECqSO0UO0kR9HChXUSYe-LjHOxsl32spR51OL9AT9WmmJ0VBvMKVrvW_FfZH4lgbLTMBY9FdFr44bqbVCpGHqzSGBpP9kvswAQg/s400/XTERRA_KOTH+018.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The run starts on the same pavement as the bike course and leads to the same fire road. But runners get to make a right turn and run up “Toboggan Hill,” which is where the race gets the name of “King of the Hill.” Toboggan Hill is covered in grass, and is huge. I resorted to walking like all the other racers around me, due to the insane slope. Once at the top there’s hardly any rest because you get to run down the back side, turn around, and then run up the backside before being able to run down. The views from the top are fantastic though, and I tried to take them in to try to bring some sort of positive light to my race. The run down Toboggan Hill was pretty tough, just because of all the pounding your legs take on the steep slope. I was happy to get to the bottom, then continue on up the fire road. The last part of the run involved the same fast downhill on pavement as the bike course, then an extra section of trail looping around the lake. I ran past a playground, and the kids on the playground cheered and yelled “Girl power!” as I ran by. It was pretty funny. I got onto the beach and finished up the last bit of the trail run, crossing the line in 2:36:58. Had I not had the chain to deal with it would have been under the 2:30 mark.<br /><br /><em>The Finish Line!</em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSjpqaTceGe6wfCtY9XgigE5n5U93RuswCMdg90BUgNboU22Nihn8LnV6SWKuCK0udTFDtnXml29bLOOEPtJHr5mM4deoSmjhFz1ittMif1Ub5SzJ6c8KxLachIID-caragpVLiZT7I1c/s1600/XTERRA_KOTH+021.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472420592255736754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSjpqaTceGe6wfCtY9XgigE5n5U93RuswCMdg90BUgNboU22Nihn8LnV6SWKuCK0udTFDtnXml29bLOOEPtJHr5mM4deoSmjhFz1ittMif1Ub5SzJ6c8KxLachIID-caragpVLiZT7I1c/s400/XTERRA_KOTH+021.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I picked up my transition area as they did the obligatory XTERRA pushup contest. I decided to hang around for the awards, just to see if results would get posted. I was absolutely shocked when they called my name for 1st place in W30-34! I waited afterwards and talked to Kenny (the guy I went to lunch with the day before), who was also doing the timing for the race. I wanted to be sure of the results. We went back to the timing shack and he pulled up the results. Sure enough, the others behind me had longer times. I was given a cool bobblehead doll as an award. So as they say, don’t ever give up! You might just be in first place. ;)<br /><br /><em>Bobblehead Trophy<br /></em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcQAMnQFcfovLAKpGEOukxrknoDBxDmQoSqOzkCIOt2MBXN0J1OVPcih_moBvRuBJpUof9dvBUavhhVRW_y0oBffYWRt6zmv_cBwKywxAHUWo_tTvcOrmpZJJmhbQ5Ff0xoAtiWcZPdJM/s1600/XTERRA_KOTH+023.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472420597350392386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcQAMnQFcfovLAKpGEOukxrknoDBxDmQoSqOzkCIOt2MBXN0J1OVPcih_moBvRuBJpUof9dvBUavhhVRW_y0oBffYWRt6zmv_cBwKywxAHUWo_tTvcOrmpZJJmhbQ5Ff0xoAtiWcZPdJM/s400/XTERRA_KOTH+023.JPG" border="0" /></a>Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544084976649738817.post-50857378157377822992010-05-09T17:49:00.000-07:002010-05-09T20:20:32.881-07:00Merrimack River Trail RideThis week I'm in Tewksbury, MA for work, and brought my bike for a race next weekend. Since I had Sunday free I decided to explore some of the local trails. Unfortunately, it poured all day yesterday. In Tucson this wouldn't be an issue because the trails are rocky and sandy and drain fairly quickly after a rain. Out east the trails have fluffy dirt which turns to sticky mud, and the trails don't dry out for a few days. I had originally planned to hit the Henry Parker State Park trails, but didn't want to drive out there if the trails were still muddy. I took a walk around the hotel and saw the woods behind the hotel area were wet and muddy. So I decided to try to find the trails closer to the hotel, and if they were in bad shape I could always bail out and ride the road.<br /><br />Just 3 miles from the hotel was an access point for the Merrimack River Trail. There's a map of the trail system <a href="http://www.andovertrails.org/maps/MerrimackRiver.pdf">here</a>. I left directly from the hotel and hit the pavement. An odd thing that I noticed was the lack of cyclists out on the roads. In Tucson you get used to a ton of riders being out on the roads. But I never saw another cyclist on the road, despite seeing several "share the road" cycling signs. I took the road to a residential street where I found a sign for the trail system. I entered in at the Raven's Bluff access point and headed east. The trail is all singletrack that skirts along the Merrimack River, with bridges over creeks. It was chilly and very windy out, but thankfully the bank of the river is below a large hillside for much of the ride, which offers some protection from the wind. The trail was covered with fallen leaves and tree roots, but the trail was surprisingly in good shape. Most of it was dry with just a few wet spots that had boards over the top to prevent trail erosion (very similar to the Pit of Despair stunt at our house).<br /><br />The trail was rolling singletrack, with just a few short, steep climbs here and there. At certain points it got very close to the river. It was a ton of fun! I saw a few hikers, a couple of trail runners, and only 2 other mountain bikers. I was surprised at the low amount of traffic on a weekend. I took the trail all the way to I-93, and continued on after crossing under the freeway. I could only go about a quarter of a mile further until I hit a bridge that had fallen in the creek, and a downed tree on the other side. The trail continued after this, but I decided this was a good point to turn around. I took the trail back to the access point and continued west for a bit. The trail is marked with white blazes on trees, and I think I figured out two blazes meant easier trail, and one blaze was a more advanced trail. I took the trail to another access point, and decided to turn around and head back to Raven's Bluff. I rode about 10 miles on the trail before the wind got too cold to continue.<br /><br />After I checked the map when I got back to the hotel I found that I turned around just before the power lines, and there's more trail to the west of the power lines. I found the access point on my ride back to the hotel. If I get a chance to get back out on the trail during the week I'd like to take the access point by the powerlines and see what the trail looks like to the west. But it's awesome to have such a great trail network just 3 miles from the hotel!<br /><br /><em>Official trail sign:</em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9N01LN6agWJSWoQOgY67-c363PJ0vqJZjcY2KvoQJ_leEYrQqVPBVdoH3dMl_vcOXPt3PYvt246uStFOOm4FnSjdeKsZHN_TTmfivaJZefAPHZ-UedEm4u5UDvzvQEheOVDQnl2HGznc/s1600/Merrimack+River+Trail+011.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469446768134836850" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9N01LN6agWJSWoQOgY67-c363PJ0vqJZjcY2KvoQJ_leEYrQqVPBVdoH3dMl_vcOXPt3PYvt246uStFOOm4FnSjdeKsZHN_TTmfivaJZefAPHZ-UedEm4u5UDvzvQEheOVDQnl2HGznc/s400/Merrimack+River+Trail+011.JPG" /></a><br /><em>It was wonderful to be in the sun when it was out!</em><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469446804299445042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWJZ5Moi6OECD2-OwSnoZJMv2nU2TW2OmP_xsol2hZrdVC5vQwa9Q6XURwRstcULc-2IoD4bERrYJ-xq3fAXdtSiZSuJKe0mCrVZo_QPr6O2wGxieNAiqvbnWbXwWI0UdfwHcQC8jPn_g/s400/Merrimack+River+Trail+018.JPG" /><br /><em>One of the many bridge crossings on the trail. This one is just after you get on the trail at Raven's Bluff.</em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHIod8A_KdJlawTIev1veO5DXKUO95IE4GX8g_SA2PGQFxVbaG_MekCzJZ7o5BizO-Prb5ytnxrbRYK_wwYQh5q9V0jqYnw7rZk9IoLWxFUDIDNSb8h0AMR7IQRokUkc711Q20G4nOaE/s1600/Merrimack+River+Trail+001.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469437845450927362" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHIod8A_KdJlawTIev1veO5DXKUO95IE4GX8g_SA2PGQFxVbaG_MekCzJZ7o5BizO-Prb5ytnxrbRYK_wwYQh5q9V0jqYnw7rZk9IoLWxFUDIDNSb8h0AMR7IQRokUkc711Q20G4nOaE/s400/Merrimack+River+Trail+001.JPG" /></a><br /><em>Singletrack, greenery, and the Merrimack River.</em><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbv5TrmVQXavWhy724-aXHSqFEsHdBOi7uAzv6rQr-krBlJlgq66LTHJlred_yxtygFqb6i0xcD9ShMMqcrFHQRsnXuplna6sBWYUafGup7OJKCPv-UhdioIYPX6lVvCkLSJDXK1kd_ow/s1600/Merrimack+River+Trail+003.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469437857610384002" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbv5TrmVQXavWhy724-aXHSqFEsHdBOi7uAzv6rQr-krBlJlgq66LTHJlred_yxtygFqb6i0xcD9ShMMqcrFHQRsnXuplna6sBWYUafGup7OJKCPv-UhdioIYPX6lVvCkLSJDXK1kd_ow/s400/Merrimack+River+Trail+003.JPG" /></a><br /><em>This was the only bridge I came across with railings.<br /></em><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJwGDcIs9tgwlkR2NF49NIsrP0Wn2aMndtwe81bGZUR6farjJBabTamcMg96HrkQtVYibYFBhWpmGkCXC9Evi2504mz5w6pTThiexuZ4qV0005GoXIMyyNDll_EaFHz0YStYfpgMA6TVk/s1600/Merrimack+River+Trail+006.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469437865640489682" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJwGDcIs9tgwlkR2NF49NIsrP0Wn2aMndtwe81bGZUR6farjJBabTamcMg96HrkQtVYibYFBhWpmGkCXC9Evi2504mz5w6pTThiexuZ4qV0005GoXIMyyNDll_EaFHz0YStYfpgMA6TVk/s400/Merrimack+River+Trail+006.JPG" /></a><br /><em>Open view of the Merrimack River.</em><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcZtG6UZKH5wnVk2tbK8KV8ayhotPU9PkYtRLTsVs9Ta0RZIkVSOlgjyy5zx8NlPv2LhFVu-c33biXVYsf-l-5YJfeoxlGweptHXPIGshIC7wGuL4cXjRra6EvXzf0oHcT1IINA5qIlHI/s1600/Merrimack+River+Trail+008.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469437872128395058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcZtG6UZKH5wnVk2tbK8KV8ayhotPU9PkYtRLTsVs9Ta0RZIkVSOlgjyy5zx8NlPv2LhFVu-c33biXVYsf-l-5YJfeoxlGweptHXPIGshIC7wGuL4cXjRra6EvXzf0oHcT1IINA5qIlHI/s400/Merrimack+River+Trail+008.JPG" /></a><br /><em>One of the rare times the sun came out from behind the clouds while I was on the trail.<br /></em><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4fCy7fJ0tMp0yCSN-WQHngdTT-SiN3xE2AISY2dq3DeVjufavSCYYNRdxJFSbXOfJh59cGWTdsG2Aa873dHI_WVhpdayYjXgVwjEemLItmEHVPZzvcyp-OZYA-W6-RFGGwP05rOnqf4/s1600/Merrimack+River+Trail+009.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469437886864162306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4fCy7fJ0tMp0yCSN-WQHngdTT-SiN3xE2AISY2dq3DeVjufavSCYYNRdxJFSbXOfJh59cGWTdsG2Aa873dHI_WVhpdayYjXgVwjEemLItmEHVPZzvcyp-OZYA-W6-RFGGwP05rOnqf4/s400/Merrimack+River+Trail+009.JPG" /></a><br /><em>The trail crossing under I-93.<br /></em><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj5Lb3qGwBC7U6FFgkhjjyMl_-Wu4E-oVkDNJbpbcXZUFcUiXBMNKaW3pARcnp_v3V2Q4wfNE0KMWFAoC1zeTu98aGdVqclKEcTTRjuUYcTAt1qMU4TA7jKxFPIeBJWtHtEe59-DdyhOk/s1600/Merrimack+River+Trail+010.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469446760001654930" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj5Lb3qGwBC7U6FFgkhjjyMl_-Wu4E-oVkDNJbpbcXZUFcUiXBMNKaW3pARcnp_v3V2Q4wfNE0KMWFAoC1zeTu98aGdVqclKEcTTRjuUYcTAt1qMU4TA7jKxFPIeBJWtHtEe59-DdyhOk/s400/Merrimack+River+Trail+010.JPG" /></a><br /><em>Riding in the forest</em>.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdxF1r85UputmHBjGC3cipOXa44Rh1lORtaTbTgRV7ZuYK3gXaSKgUo_g2TUm5yH_T_lZFxLm_brpbEIea8uSCjf4A7OpS8a8EjMWhIhKZxwSGpfHxa3kpvV8S4G4JfDyKoDyCFSGBeRk/s1600/Merrimack+River+Trail+015.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469446778896944418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdxF1r85UputmHBjGC3cipOXa44Rh1lORtaTbTgRV7ZuYK3gXaSKgUo_g2TUm5yH_T_lZFxLm_brpbEIea8uSCjf4A7OpS8a8EjMWhIhKZxwSGpfHxa3kpvV8S4G4JfDyKoDyCFSGBeRk/s400/Merrimack+River+Trail+015.JPG" /></a><br /><em>Through the trees.</em><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMg7NXkn9vwoxYXS6Q-YE1DXqLeaC8eFpMlim9J0w1WJwoeHzUs6oNCqhNLJ730S8zMx244kMNxpRlSgIWtzXaTka4ZoIIiqwW9B13ZHqiFZrPvHAn9V69ILr4dSnA0a5wkfIBrXVwLHY/s1600/Merrimack+River+Trail+017.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469446793868660018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMg7NXkn9vwoxYXS6Q-YE1DXqLeaC8eFpMlim9J0w1WJwoeHzUs6oNCqhNLJ730S8zMx244kMNxpRlSgIWtzXaTka4ZoIIiqwW9B13ZHqiFZrPvHAn9V69ILr4dSnA0a5wkfIBrXVwLHY/s400/Merrimack+River+Trail+017.JPG" /></a><br /><em>And through green fields.<br /></em><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469447018234747858" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0MAxWYWp-BzcxbJKiXoKs6s3lWwJkwTyuM_vYv34QdOaXo31VpgRJSkKRLk4vr-tZTcZIHwYdXEkuXchupuOatYOMu6XhVgop6QKbPDiM6fwsBhK8_WcPob8lxaJkV_9U7CCA7HdznUc/s400/Merrimack+River+Trail+019.JPG" /> </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Wrenchettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14402406584784967741noreply@blogger.com1