I'm making things quick tonight so I can get back to completely geeking out on Olympic coverage. On a related note, thanks to NBC's tape delayed coverage airing until midnight PST, it's going to be hard for me to get a good night's sleep for the next 14 days. Good thing I'm not tapering for a big race or anything. Oh, wait ...
So let's knock out a couple Random Shots of Beauty, taken from my most recent excursions into the mountains. First, from Lake Alpine, CA:
My 11-year-old daughter striking a Pocahontas pose from a small island she and I kayaked to in search of perfect rock jumping spots - one of those excursions where the journey is as rewarding as the destination.
A small alpine meadow as seen from the trail between Marlette Peak and the Tunnel Creek aid station. Sometimes the hardest part of writing race reports is deciding which pictures to leave out; that's when you know you've completed an awesome race.
-Guns ‘n’ Roses,
“Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door” (video after post)
At the Tahoe Rim Trail ultras, you can spend a lot of time
contemplating Heaven and Hell.
The two poles are right there in the race’s motto - “A
Glimpse of Heaven, A Taste of Hell” – but more than simple words can express,
it’s the feelings you go through while making your way through the course. Hellish climbs and occasionally infernal
heat. Celestial scenery and lofty
elevations that make Heaven seem just a reach away. And if you’re having a good race there, the
whole experience can feel like knocking on Heaven’s door.
This was the third straight year I’ve participated at TRT in some form or another, and each time has been rewarding in its own unique
way. During last weekend’s 50-miler, the
vast majority of my time was simply heavenly – and the good vibes seemed to be
shared with many kindred spirits along the way.
And with that, we’ll get to the report
(As always, click any picture to enlarge.)
There’s certainly a more lighthearted vibe to the 50K and
50M crowds at Tahoe. Part of it could be
due to the fact that unlike the earlier racers, we’re not starting in the dark;
the other part is probably because we know how far those lunatics who started
an hour ahead of us will be running.
When other people are running 100 miles, it’s hard for the rest of us to
find anything to complain about.
One runner was even nice enough to take my picture. The conversation went like this: She said I
looked familiar and asked if I had a running blog. I replied that I did have a website and
introduced myself – at which point she said, “Oh, right – you paced Gretchen
here, didn’t you?”
It wouldn’t be the last time I heard about Gretchen; no
fewer than three more times, someone recognized me as Gretchen’s friend, the
guy who paced Gretchen, or the guy who Gretchen was nice enough to pace one time. You know … just in case I forgot whose
neighborhood I was in.
And since I seem to have so many Gretchen fans reading my
blog, I can offer two things: 1) She’ll
make an appearance in this report, and 2) Bookmark her Hardrock report and read
it anytime you want to get blown away with inspiration. Trust me, it’s that good. Then again, most of you probably know that
already.
(What was I writing about again? Oh, right – the race report.)
One of the only downsides of running the 50M event is that
the trail is very crowded for the first 5 miles or so – in fact, this year had
more 50M and 50K entrants than any time in the race’s history. Fortunately, most of those early miles are
uphill, which forces you to start conservatively …
… and by the time we enjoyed the first descent to Marlette Lake at mile
5, there was plenty of room to stretch our legs and cruise at a comfortable
pace.
Just before the Hobart aid station at mile 6, we were greeted
by an angel and a devil. One was
shouting things like “Looking good!”, and the other yelled “Embrace the suck!” You can guess which was which. It was evidently some sort of battle for our
minds …
… and on this side of the Hobart station, the devil appeared
to be winning – at least if the “Hell” sign (lower right) pointing the way was any
indication.
And in case we didn’t get the message, the flames on the “Hell’s
Gate” sign eliminated any doubt.
It was hard for me to feel discouraged, though, because I
knew what was coming up next: the climb over the shoulder of Marlette Peak,
which is one of the prettiest trails I’ve ever run …
… with one of the coolest views you can ask for above
Marlette Lake and Lake Tahoe.
I was especially happy to run this trail for another reason:
one year ago, large stretches of this segment were buried under several inches
of snow. I soaked in the scenery and
cruised along blissfully …
… and before I knew it, I was at one of the friendliest aid
stations on Earth: Tunnel Creek, which I passed through six times during my
100-mile odyssey last year, and where it’s impossible not to feel the outpouring
of love from the volunteers …
… one of whom was Gretchen, sporting her new pink Hardrock
100 shirt. Remember what I said about
the vibe at the start line? It’s also
hard to complain to a girl who finished Hardrock one week earlier – and each
time I passed through here, I left with a genuine “no worries” feeling. That’s how you know you’ve been in an awesome
aid station.
The Red House Loop gets a lot of pre-race
chatter: it’s often identified as the “Taste of Hell” the race motto refers
to. It’s essentially a long downhill
plunge followed by an uphill loop to bring you back to the same trail, and can
often get scorching hot in the midday heat.
I’ve never had much difficulty with it, though, because there’s an aid
station at the bottom of the loop …
… where a group of clowns are waiting to fill your bottles. Whether this is heavenly or hellish depends
on how you feel about clowns, I guess.
The majority of the climb out of the loop is runnable …
… until it isn’t. I’ve
learned not to get discouraged by the steep slog in this section, though; I
just consider it practice for the legitimately monstrous slog that’s waiting for you about
13 miles later.
True story about this photo: as I was trudging back into Tunnel
Creek, a spectator saw my camera and offered to take a picture of me. Apparently the still photo didn’t look too good,
because the next thing he told me was to go back down the hill so he could get
an action shot. So I actually deserve
credit for 50.005 miles on the day, if you want to get technical about it.
Leaving Tunnel Creek, the 50-milers have the course to
themselves as the 50K runners head back toward the finish.I felt kind of bad for them, because this is
definitely one of the prettiest sections of the course …
… with views of Lake Washoe to the west …
… large boulder-strewn footpaths on the Rim Trail ahead …
… and more spectacular visions of Lake Tahoe to the east.
Just when you’ve gotten your fill of amazing views, you
embark on a 5-mile downhill path that’s simply perfect for inflicting pain upon
your quads. Coincidentally, the sun was
positioning itself directly overhead, in ideal position for generating hellish
heat on the exposed sections of the course.
So by the time I reached Diamond Peak aid station at mile
30, I felt a bit like I was approaching the fringes of Hell. A curious quote sprang to mind: it was from Winston Churchill, who once said, “If you’re going
through hell, keep going”; under the circumstances, that seemed like as
good advice as anything.
To be sure, there was more hell to come: namely, the 2-mile,
almost 2000’ climb to the top of Diamond Peak ski area. This was a slow, miserable trudge for me, and
the steps seemed to happen in slow motion – actually, that’s not an
exaggeration. It took me almost an hour
to cover two miles.
In the midst of my misery, it was slightly encouraging to
see that the race directors at least had a sense of humor about the whole
thing. Honestly, it really wasn’t much
encouragement at all – but by that point I was basically grasping at straws.
Finally reaching the top of the hill was a strange moment of
duality for me: I appreciated the wondrous sights from my lofty perch close to
heaven again … but I had pretty much cooked myself in order to get there. On one of the highest points of the course, I
felt the lowest – and in hindsight, it turned out to be the closest I came to hell all day
long.
I knew the course became friendly again on the smooth,
mostly downhill singletrack back to Tunnel Creek, but all I could muster was to
walk long stretches of this section, while getting passed by what seemed like a
parade of runners.
However, here’s what I mean when I say I’ve “managed” a race
well: I’ve been in these hard situations enough times to know that they
eventually get better. In the moment, there’s
always the potential of going into a downward mental spiral - but if you can
resist those demons for a while, they eventually get tired and leave you alone.
On the Tahoe Rim Trail, I felt far too
close to heaven to let some pesky demons drag me down – and before I knew it, I
was jogging again.
And if I needed any more encouragement to keep going, I got
it from my favorite aid station angel when I finally made it back to Tunnel Creek.
With 15 miles to go, it’s time to retrace your steps back over
Marlette Peak …
… before returning to the opposite side of Hobart aid
station – where coincidentally, the sign (lower left) that greets you this time says “Heaven” ...
... and you can get some cookies and energy gels from yet another
friendly angel. With less than 10 miles
to go at this point, nothing was going to stop me anymore …
… not even one final encounter with the devil, whom I found shortly after leaving the
station. I stopped to talk to him for a
few minutes; he turned out to be remarkably friendly, and gave me some information
about the course before rushing off to help another runner who needed
help. When you can make peace with your
demons during an ultra, you know you’re having a good day.
The final climb of the day begins gradually, but ratchets up
the steepness as you pop above the tree line on the climb to Snow Valley, the
highest point of the run at nearly 9000'.
The top of the ridge is also a great place to enjoy some
more wonderful views …
… and in this case, to be taken completely by surprise. This winged-and-haloed angel was strangely unexpected:
she was running in the opposite direction (so she wasn’t a race participant),
was more than a mile from the aid station (so she didn’t seem to be a
volunteer), and had a hydration pack indicating she was covering a long distance on the top of the mountain. Despite this, she floated gracefully down the
trail straight towards me, only stopping briefly when I asked to take her
picture. If she had told me she had fallen
directly out of the sky, I probably would have believed her. I swear, ultras do weird things to your head
sometimes.
Once you leave the Snow Valley aid station, you traverse a
rocky but gently-sloping ridge on the shoulder of the peak …
… before dropping below the tree line for one long final
plunge, about 5 miles down toward the finish line at Spooner Lake.
When you finally reach the lake, the finish line seems like
a speck in the distance, and as the trail takes you around the lake, it
actually seems to get farther away at times.
But at this point, there’s no devil in the world that can keep you from
the finish line …
… and when you get there, you know you’ve just participated
in something beautiful.
As my final tune-up for Leadville, I was particularly
concerned about how I would feel at the end of this race – and afterward, I
couldn’t have asked for a better test run.
For one thing, my RunAmoc Dashes cemented their status as my
race day moccasins – but that’s really a minor point in the bigger scope of
things. My training has been pretty
lousy this year – I keep meaning to write about this separately, I promise – so
I’ve replied upon buildup races more than ever to bolster my confidence before
the big test next month.
Without going into too much detail (or lengthening this
report any further), I think that most of the pieces are falling into place for
me to successfully finish Leadville in a few weeks. The TRT carried me to that final threshold, and
I feel like I’m on the verge of something truly magnificent … like I’m ready to
knock right on heaven’s door, and have it open wide to welcome me in.
**
Obviously I had a handful of artist options for this tune …
but since I’m a child of the metal 80s, there was really only one choice: the
incomparable Guns ‘n’ Roses. The clip is
from the Freddie Mercury Tribute Concert, and is a great reminder of just how
impressive GNR was when they were on their game – as well as how disappointing
it is that they wasted it all away so fast.
Guns ‘n’ Roses, “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door” (click to play):
Guess what? It turns out that when you run for twelve hours and drive for seven, that doesn't leave much time for blogging at the end of the day. Accordingly, this weekend's RSOB is a brief one, in hopes that I can get to bed before 1AM:
(click to enlarge)
Marlette Lake in the foreground and Lake Tahoe in the background, as seen from Snow Valley Peak at mile 42 of today's - or is it yesterday's now? - Tahoe Rim Trail 50.
The race's motto is "A Glimpse of Heaven, A Taste of Hell", but I found my experience there to be much more heavenly than hellish. I'll save the details for my race report which should post later in the week ... but you know how that goes around here sometimes.
Another weekend, another sweet sale announcement ... with an extremely cool opportunity if you're a female looking to test the waters of minimalist running shoes.
This week I reviewed the VIVOBAREFOOT Neo Trail shoe, which will most likely prove to be a "very good but not great" offering for minimalist trail running. The gold standard from VIVOBAREFOOT is their truly outstanding Evo running shoe, which I reviewed here and which I've worn with great success in several ultras.
The only drawback of the Evo is the price tag, which strikes many runners as too steep to take a chance on - but this weekend 50% of my readers can get a great deal on them. I've mentioned the membership discount site The Clymb here before, which is free (and easy) to join and periodically has major discounts on a small selection of items for limited-time basis. This weekend they're having a Labor Day Flash Sale, where you can save up to 70% on a limited variety of outdoor gear.
Of particular interest to me was the Women's VIVOBAREFOOT Evo which is currently offered for 50% below retail. I suspect the stock of these will vanish quickly, so if you want to grab a pair, get moving.
The sale on VIVOBAREFOOT and other Labor Day flash items expires on 9/6/11 at 9AM PDT. Happy shopping!
**
I had go a little bit out of my way for this weekend's Random Shot of Beauty, but it was worth the trip:
Sunlight penetrating the fog cover on the Tan Bark Trail in Big Sur, CA, where our family enjoyed a wonderful hike today. I hope to have a full report next week, but the planned posts are starting to stack up a bit around here ... so let's just leave it at that for now: I hope to.
**
In honor of an extended weekend, you get an extended Random Shot of Beauty as well. This one was taken by my friend Gretchen several weeks ago, but it brings back fond memories:
That would be me, running into a Lake Tahoe sunrise underneath a full moon on the second morning of the Tahoe Rim Trail 100. I stole the photo from Gretchen's wonderful report of the event, which she finally published this week, and is a must-read if you want a taste of why ultrarunners appreciate our sport so much.
Enjoy the weekend, everyone.
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"I don't need anyone ... no I don't need anyone but you."
- She Wants Revenge, "Must Be the One" (video after post)
Two brief topics for the weekend, neither one particularly related to the other ...
*
Since my TRT race report didn't post until last Friday morning, I purposely skipped the customary weekend Random Shot of Beauty in order to let the report keep top billing for a few days. However, since I'm still glancing back to that remarkable event fairly often, I figured today's RSOB should do so as well:
A Tahoe sunrise, as seen from the top of Marlette Peak at approximately mile 89. It's true what they say about drawing energy from the sunrise; from this point on, I knew I had the race in the bag.
**
Another noteworthy point for this weekend is that my wife and I are marking another wedding anniversary. I don't write a whole lot about our relationship, but suffice it to say that we have our share of ups and downs like everybody else. Through it all, however, I've never questioned one fact: forever and always, she's the one.
As for the song, it's a new release with a sound that could easily be a throwback to the John Hughes movies my wife and I enjoyed when we were falling in love more than 20 years ago.
She Wants Revenge, "Must Be the One" (click to play):
P.S. Old-school classic rock fans will point out that I could have just as easily gone with this song ... and that would have been just fine as well. It's hard to argue with the great ones.
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Now that I’ve reported (in excessive detail, as usual) the play-by-play from my 100-miler at Lake Tahoe, it’s time to drill a little deeper on the subject of the Soft Star moccasins I wore. More specifically, were they up to the task? Were there any major problems I encountered? And perhaps most tellingly, would I do the same thing if I had to do it over again?
Heading into the Tahoe evening in RunAmocs
The short answers are: yes, no, and probably … but you know I’ve never been content with the short answers. And nothing about running 100 miles is ever that simple. With that in mind, let’s get to the breakdown.
1. Moccasin style
Perhaps the first point to explain here is why I went with the original RunAmoc rather than either of the two new Soft Star models that were introduced this spring. I mentioned the reasons for this in my RunAmoc Dash review and my Moc3 review; basically, with the Dash it was a matter of fit, and with the Moc3 it was a matter of protection.
Although its traditional lacing system gives the Dash a super-secure fit through the midfoot, I still experience a bit of instability in the rearfoot, most likely due to my own irregularities in heel structure and alignment. The instability of the heel collar around my ankle is especially apparent when I do stream crossings or run through sticky mud, both of which I knew I’d encounter at Tahoe. On the original RunAmoc, the ankle strap decreases ankle movement significantly, although the tradeoff is a slightly looser midfoot fit.
Mud pit on the Red House loop
As for the Moc3, I indicated in my review that they’re only available with a 2mm street outsole, and that my feet felt somewhat beat up after running 50K on the trails in them. So it may cost me some of my “barefoot cred” to say this, but I definitely wanted the extra protection (and traction) of the 5mm trail outsole for going 100 miles – which meant that the Moc3 wasn’t a realistic option.
Also, one other point I’ve explained before bears repeating again: the original RunAmoc just feels more “moccasin-y” than either of the others, which is a big part of their appeal for me. If I was going to channel my inner Tarahumara, I figured my footwear should look as native as possible. Yes, aesthetics count for something.
2. Ventilation / moisture management
Another personal preference of mine is choosing perforated leather over solid leather or suede on all of my RunAmocs. I like how they keep my foot ventilated on hot days, and how they dry relatively quickly after water immersion. A key part of this strategy is that I combine my RunAmocs with Drymax socks, which is important for a couple of reasons: 1) Drymax move moisture off your foot incredibly fast, and 2) the tight fabric construction helps keep grit off of your feet. You’ll definitely get sand and dust infiltrating the toebox with perforated leather, but with the Drymax socks, it isn’t a big deal.
Lots of practice in wet conditions this spring: two separate, rainy 50-milers in mocs (Dash pictured) and Drymax socks
The result of all this is that after every water immersion, my feet would be completely dry within 20-30 minutes. I didn’t change shoes or socks at any point during the 28 hours I was on the course, and with very minor exceptions (discussed shortly), I didn’t have any foot discomfort at all.
3. Scree resistance
Notice, however, that I said I didn’t change shoes – which is completely different than “I never took my shoes off”. One of the few downsides of the RunAmoc design is that the forefoot upper (called the “vamp”) isn’t physically connected to the rearfoot portion. Under normal conditions, this isn’t an issue – but anytime I do a stream crossing, there’s the potential for small pebbles to spill in between that gap, which is sometimes pried open by the current.
Forefoot vamp loosely overlaps rearfoot upper
During routine training runs, it happens fairly often that I’ll feel a small rock or two bouncing around inside my mocs after a stream crossing; 95% of the time, the rock ends up settling someplace off to the side (a hidden benefit of a roomy forefoot) where it doesn’t bother me. At Tahoe, I was a little bit paranoid of anything going wrong, so after I had accumulated a fair amount of debris inside my mocs, I pulled over to the side of the trail and shook them out.
Shin-deep stream crossings on Red House loop
4. Traction / Snow
I typically pride myself on testing shoes in all sorts of trail conditions, but I have to confess that running on snow and ice didn’t come up at any point during my testing of the RunAmoc. Despite that, I was fairly confident that they’d do well at Tahoe, and I honestly wasn’t disappointed.
In general terms, I think of the traction on the trail outsole as being the equivalent of a decent road shoe; it’s got more than enough grip to hold the trail in most conditions, but isn’t nearly as hardcore as the super-cleated outsoles that models from inov-8 or Salomon have sported in recent years. On the dirt, the only time I felt any loss of traction was climbing through loose sand on the 35% grade ski slope – but for what it’s worth, my pacer was slipping a bit in her traditional shoes as well.
Climbing the "snow staircase" - the same one I slid down several hours earlier
The same thing happened with our snow crossings: on my first and third passes through the largest snow fields, the snow was lightly packed, and my outsoles gave me all the traction I needed. On the other two passes, I slipped and lost my footing fairly often; one time was during the hottest part of the day when everything was super loose and slushy, and the other was right at sunrise after a sub-freezing night had turned everything to solid ice. Just as with the loose dirt, though, I didn’t lose my balance any more or less than other people around me – which I’ll gladly take as an acceptable level of performance.
5. Durability
For all of the people who argue about the need for “rugged” trail shoes, a scene I witnessed at mile 90 will hopefully be somewhat instructive: inside the aid station, I saw a runner (a guy I happen to know personally) taping his “hardcore” trail shoes – I won’t say what brand, but you’ve definitely heard of them - together with duct tape, after the uppers had torn apart when he tripped across a branch.
With leather uppers, I certainly wasn’t worried about my RunAmocs tearing off my feet. Rather, the limitation I was most concerned about was how quickly the outsole traction would wear down. On my everyday training pairs, I start to notice a difference in the grippiness of the trail outsole after about 200 miles, and they usually need to be replaced somewhere between 300 and 400 miles. If I could make one improvement in the RunAmocs, it would be for the outsole to last for several hundred miles, just as the Vibram outsoles on the Merrell Barefoot line or the New Balance Minimus do.
5mm trail outsole after 100 miles (and a good rinsing)
Fortunately, this was a concern I could do something about, in that I ordered a new pair of mocs just a couple of weeks before the race, so I knew I was running at “full grip” throughout the race. With that peace of mind, I honestly didn’t have any worries about whether my mocs were tough enough to last 100 miles.
6. Foot problems?
Remember when I said that I was talking about the benefits of minimalist running with some volunteers while sitting in a chair at the finish line? One of the statements I heard in response was, “I’ll believe it when I see your feet.”
Well, she asked for it …
Swollen, slightly cut up ... but actually not too bad
I figured it was better to show a foot picture from the day after the race, when the red areas would be a bit more pronounced than they were immediately after the run. What you see here is a pencil-eraser-sized abrasion on my R third toe, and one about half that size on my L second toe. I only felt the one on the right during the race, and only then during the last 30 miles or so.
There was also a dime-sized blister on the tip of my R big toe, which was the exact same area that was a hot spot during the Miwok 100K, but never materialized into a blister at that race. I felt this area during the latter stages at Tahoe, but it wasn’t severe enough to make me pull over and address it. You can also see some discoloration of my R big toenail, but it’s not loose at all, and I’m fairly certain it’s going to stay in place.
It’s tempting to say that these look bad, but keep in mind that during my other 100-mile races in traditional footwear, I had pretty significant blister problems, and I ended up losing several toenails each time. Therefore, the RunAmoc result is actually a nice improvement. I attribute the abrasions to the fact that I started with a virtually new pair of mocs, and therefore didn’t give the leather uppers enough time to stretch like they normally do after I’ve worn them for several training runs.
What you can’t see here is the bottom of my feet, which also became fairly sore during the race. I have significant calluses across the base of my toes on both feet, and beginning at around mile 70 or so, those calloused areas began to feel tender and hot. They never progressed to the point of blistering, but the pain was significant enough to slow my stride down somewhat. The next day, they remained fairly tender, but by two days later they had hardened up again just fine.
Another noteworthy observation from the picture above is how swollen my feet and ankles became after the race; normally, you can see the bones and veins in my foot pretty prominently. Obviously this is a sign that there was some cumulative trauma to the area, but again, this is comparable with what I experienced after my 100-milers in regular footwear as well. The lesson? 100 miles is hard on your feet, no matter what you do (or don’t do) to try and protect them.
7. Would I do it again?
There’s an old saying – or maybe there isn’t, and I’m just making this up – that just because you got away with doing something once, that doesn’t mean you should try to do it again. Now that the 100-mile thing is all said and done, it’s a fair question to wonder whether I’d do the same thing again, or whether I’d recommend moccasins for someone else for their own 100-mile effort. In my opinion, the answer is double-faceted: there’s a comfort and performance issue, as well as the more intangible consideration of how your footwear contributes to your overall enjoyment of running.
I mentioned in my race preview post that RunAmocs probably wouldn’t be at the top of my list when it comes to high-performance minimalist footwear. If I were racing shorter distances and focused on specific time goals or age group awards, I’d probably go with another shoe. However, the mocs lend themselves very easily to cautious, gentle, relaxed running – which is exactly the mental approach you need to get through 100 miles. So if your goal is just to make it through the distance – which, for 99% of us, it should be – the RunAmocs are more than adequate to get the job done.
I find their comfort to be outstanding, with one important caveat: it takes a very long time to build up to these distances without feeling a bit thrashed at times. Even after doing this barefoot/minimalist thing for a couple of years, the edge of my comfort zone seems to be about 50M; the handful of times I’ve ventured beyond that threshold, I started having some minor foot/ankle comfort issues. I suspect that something with a little more cushioning would be advantageous in that regard, but for the time being it’s a tradeoff I’m willing to make.
Job done!
In the end, it comes down to doing what feels right – and for me, there’s simply no other minimalist shoe that makes me feel more connected, both physically and mentally, to the trail beneath my feet. My RunAmocs greatly enhance the pleasure I take from running, which is why I wouldn’t hesitate to use them for another 100-miler someday*.
(*I’m not saying there will be; I’m planning to just savor this one for a while. But you never know.)
8. Audience participation
I’ve spelled out what I thought were the primary issues with my moccasins, but there are probably a few aspects I’m overlooking. I’d be happy to answer any other questions about my RunAmoc adventure in the comments section below, so feel free to ask me anything and I’ll double back to answer as soon as I’m available.
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