Let's Talk About Sex

Administrative note: A version of this article appeared in the Monterey Herald in November of 2005. I made some minor revisions and additions here, but the vast majority of the current post ran as scripted below. Hopefully after reading it, you’ll appreciate my recent disbelief about how my snot rocket article got yanked, but THIS one somehow lived to see the light of newsprint.

And if you’re anything like me, this article might also make you wonder exactly why it is that I haven’t been fired yet.

**

“Let’s talk about sex, baby –
Let’s talk about you and me –
Let’s talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be.”
– Salt ‘n’ Pepa, “Let’s Talk about Sex”


It’s perhaps one of the most contentious questions ever asked: does sex affect your athletic performance? For as long as people have played games, there has been disagreement as to whether those other kinds of “games” are a help or a hindrance.


During the 4th century BC, Plato described the training regimen of Ikkos of Tarentum leading up to the ancient Olympic Games. Ikkos was a legendary athlete who was known to consume large quantities of cheese and goat meat, and often coated himself in olive oil to make his rippled body gleam. He also gave up sex during his peak training buildup (not that surprising, really, considering that olive oil thing), and went on to win the Olympic Pentathlon. Plato’s account is considered the first documented endorsement of abstinence before competition.

However, famed historian Pliny the Elder turned the argument on its head in his best-selling (or whatever they called something that was popular back then) treatise Natural History, released in AD 77. Pliny’s statement that “Athletes when sluggish are revitalized by love-making” was like an Emancipation Proclamation for horny athletes everywhere.

The battle has raged ever since. While most studies show that getting busy causes no tangible difference in athletic performance, athletes in all sports have weighed in on both sides. When it comes to shagging, it seems that everyone has something to say.

American track star Marty Liquori was one of the first runners to promote abstinence before races, saying that he liked to be “angry and aggressive” to race a fast mile. He explained that, "If you've had sex the night before, you'll be in a satisfied state and feel like smoking a cigarette."

Victor Plata, a member of the U.S. Olympic triathlon team, took the angry and aggressive approach to the extreme - Plata says he went 233 days without tapping, becoming “completely monastic” before the 2004 Athens Olympics.

However, in Olympic competition, it’s very likely that both Liquori and Plata were defeated by competitors who got their freak on just before the event. Among athletes, the Olympic Village is one of the most sexually vigorous gatherings imaginable. Whenever thousands of hardbodies with boundless energy and excess time on their hands gather together, the results are highly predictable.

At the Albertville Winter Games, condom machines in the athletes’ village reportedly had to be refilled every two hours. In Sydney, the organizers’ original order of 70,000 condoms was drained so quickly that they had to order 20,000 more - and the supply was still exhausted three days before the end of competition.

Breaux Greer, an American javelin thrower at the Sydney Games, reported that "There’s a LOT of sex going on. You get people who are in shape, and testosterone’s up, and everybody’s attracted to everybody." Such thoughts give new meaning to the concept of international diplomacy.

And yet, athletes continue to have differences of opinion on the effects of bedroom tapering. British sprinter Linford Christie habitually refrained, saying that a romp the night before a race made his legs feel like lead. On the other hand, the great Bob Beamon reported that he got some action on the eve of his record-shattering long jump at the 1968 Mexico City Olympics. Christie won one Olympic gold medal in the 100 meters, but Beamon set a world record that stood for 23 years. Draw your own conclusions.

Noted baseball sage Casey Stengel had an interesting take on the matter. Stengel liked to say that being with a woman never hurt a baseball player – it was the staying up all night to look for a woman that did him in. So presumably, if a willing partner just happened to be lying in the same bed, Stengel would give his players the green light.

Finally, Brazilian soccer star Ronaldo claimed that the key to his success in winning the 2002 World Cup was getting his groove on just before each match. He also says that to save his strength, he let his wife do most of the work. The lesson here is…actually, I’m not really sure there is a lesson here – I just thought it was a great story.

So the professionals are clearly undecided. But what about recreational athletes? Does boinking more frequently make us better competitors? Or conversely, does being a runner help you have a great sex life? None of us is trying to set any world records, but if a little extra bumping and grinding would help our race results, that would be good news indeed.

First - to set the record straight - I make no claim to be an authority in this field. Although I know a lot about training, I don’t pretend to have expertise in knocking boots. I can, however, give you some opinions and anecdotes from local runners, and allow you to make your own decisions.

For instance, one of my running partners is a respected physician who says he always thinks about sex while running, and likewise thinks about running whenever he’s exercising horizontally. He insists that it makes both his running and his sex life better. However, I’m keeping his identity anonymous so that he remains “respected.”

One of our local marathon runners also happens to be an instructor of human sexuality at CSU –Monterey Bay. She says the safest and most effective method for increasing your sex drive is proper diet and exercise. Running develops an enhanced cardiovascular system, with increased blood flow to ALL parts of the body. Therefore, running may affect your sex drive as much as boffing affects your running performance.

Additionally, consider a series of recent studies – some funded by Pfizer Inc., makers of Viagra - which indicate that regular sexual activity boosts levels of testosterone, one of the prime hormonal agents responsible for athletic performance in both men and women. Researchers found that sustained testosterone levels rose markedly when participants of either gender began having sex regularly.

(2008 addendum: now that I think of it … maybe Floyd Landis didn’t cheat after all. Maybe he just got a TON of French hospitality the night before that crucial mountain stage. How come no one else thought of this defense?)

Sex and running … running and sex. No matter what your personal preferences for pre-race competition may be, these topics will inevitably continue to be joined at the hip (so to speak) for countless years to come.

So what about my own personal experience? Are you wondering how often I get sprung, and what it does for my running? Honestly, I’d love to tell you. I’m always willing to share my knowledge, and I’ve said many times that there are no secrets in running.

Unfortunately, my wife DOES keep some secrets. And on this particular subject, that’s all I’m allowed to say.

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Six Topics In Search of a Theme

Admin note: I originally intended for this post to be a brief follow-up on the previous GPS article – but then several more items came to mind over the weekend that also seemed worth mentioning, and the whole thing turned into a typically random hodge-podge. I grappled with some kind of unifying theme to tie them all together, but that got way too hard – so I just came up with a clever title instead. I’m very much a “path of least resistance” guy.

Anyway, we’ll just jump right into things. Starting with …


1. This is what it looked like in Carmel Valley this weekend: 78 degrees and sunny. Um … tell me what month it is again?

I’m the first to admit that life in California isn’t all wine and roses. We have overcrowding in our cities, chronic economic problems, water issues, immigration concerns, and an education system that appears permanently disabled. Not to mention, Arnold Schwarzenegger is our Governor.

But then we’ll have a weekend of 80-degree days in mid-February, and I’m reminded of why I love living here. I know it’s a silly notion – but sometimes all it takes is a beautiful day to make everything seem right in the world, at least temporarily.

(Besides, we Californians really deserved this nice weather. We’ve had to deal with more than two weeks of rain and below-average temps. It even got to the point where I noticed my tan fading. What a horrifying ordeal for all of us. In fact, I can’t even talk about it anymore … let’s just move on.)

2. Our family took advantage of the nice weather by making another trek to the waterfall, and guess who else was there?...

This banana slug!

I explained to my kids the whole story of the slug’s slimy, mouth-numbing, toxic, possibly parasitic ooze that I had learned over the past few weeks – and to my bewilderment (and their credit), they all declined my suggestion to kiss one.

So I was forced to take matters into my own, uh, lips:

You know what? It wasn’t so bad. A slight tingling feeling, followed by a momentary sense of “Wait, how come my lips are stuck together?” as the slime briefly congealed. All in all, it wasn’t as creepy as I thought. In fact, it’s probably not the worst first kiss I’ve ever had - but that’s another story.

Following my example, my 4-year-old daughter also decided to kiss the slug, but the other two kids stuck to their guns and refrained. I’m not sure whether to be prouder of my youngest for being adventurous, or the others for being rational. Right now - assuming we don’t contract some weird infection in the next few days – I think I’m siding with the little one.

3. Briefly, on the subject of Lost – don’t worry, no spoilers – a few people have asked, so here’s my guess: Claire, Desmond, and Sayid. And that’s all I’m going to say. I guess we’ll partially find something out this Thursday.

4. For each of the last two weeks, I logged about 70 miles (you know … give or take a few tenths), of running, almost exclusively on trails. This week was scheduled to be a cutback week – and after skipping today’s run, I already feel like a basket case. By the end of the week I’ll likely be twitching and stuttering and longingly pressing my nose against the window whenever I drive past the open spaces I normally frequent. I know it sounds odd, but that’s actually a good sign. It means my body’s finally accepted the fact that we’re in full-on training mode again.

5. In honor of Valentine’s Day this week, I’m dusting off the old “Sex and Running” article I mentioned in my snot rocket intro, and I hope to post it here on Thursday. It won’t be the most romantic thing you read all week, but it might give you some extra justification (as if you needed any) for getting a little affectionate later on. Remember, I’m here to help.

6. Finally, on the topic of last week’s GPS article, here’s the follow-up story …

After that article came out, a lot of local runners seized upon the idea of the Beta factor – i.e., awarding extra mileage for any given run based on its degree of difficulty. I admit that the whole concept took me by surprise as well.

Some of us started referencing Beta in everyday conversation. We’d discuss the approximate Beta value of one trail in comparison to another, and we sent e-mails with sentences like “the run is 24 miles, but considering the Beta, we can call it 28.” Obviously, we thought it was one of the greatest things we’d ever heard.

Then last Tuesday, our running group included Jon, the guy to whom we attributed the Beta factor in the article. Early in the run, the following exchange took place:

Andrew: That Beta factor thing is awesome – so what computer program did you use to come up with it?

Jon: None – I actually made the whole thing up.

Needless to say, we were shattered. It turns out that our Beta infatuation was completely misguided, and our running routes are just as long as we always thought they were, if not (thanks to GPS) shorter.

The funny thing is, it’s a plausible enough idea to be believed. But I hate to think that any of the dozen or so people who read my newspaper articles have been misinformed. Thank goodness I’m classified as a “columnist” instead of a “reporter” – which allows me some wiggle room to twist the facts under the guise of creative writing.

The whole story is also a nice reminder that I probably have no business representing myself as a serious newspaper writer – a fact that should become even more abundantly clear on Thursday.

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GPS Depression

Unlike most of my training partners, I haven’t yet given in to the siren call of GPS devices. However, my friend Mike and I have enough vicarious experience to write an entire Herald article about them, which follows below.

The article is fairly straightforward - but one tidbit toward the end triggered a lot of discussion and a somewhat funny follow-up story, which I’ll share next week. I’ll leave it up to you to guess which part I’m referring to.

Otherwise, here’s the article from last month. As for the new sidebar video, we’ve gone from the sublime (Ladysmith Black Mambazo) to the ridiculous: ladies and gentlemen … Sum 41. You can blame Canada.

**

Running Life 1/24/08 “GPS Depression”


GPS devices have become increasingly common among runners over the past couple of years, and we train with many people who use them on a regular basis.

The devices are supposed to take the guesswork out of gathering information from each day’s run – but many times, they can create just as many questions as answers.

Here’s a typical conversation after our group completes the usual Friday morning route – and keep in mind that we’ve all run the EXACT same course:

While we’re stretching in the parking lot, Dave starts by asking, "Just how long was that run?"

Andrew looks at his GPS device and says, "I’ve got 6.78 miles with 1,142 feet of elevation change."

Jim looks at his GPS and says, "Mine says 6.62 miles with 988 feet of elevation change, with an average pace of 6.33 minutes per mile."

Jon, our resident scientist, will say, "Mine calculates it to 6.8417834290876 miles with 1,045 feet of elevation, an average pace of 6:45 per mile, average temperature of 38.6 degrees, and our correlation coefficient speed of inertia had a Beta factor of 1.23.”

(Or, at least, it sounds something like that – sometimes we don’t catch all the details.)

That’s about when Dave yells, "HEY - I just wanted to know if we’ve been gone more than an hour! I have to get to work!"

It’s easy to see how the advanced technology can cause us to lose the forest for the trees. It’s also been known to cause cases of GPS-related paranoia and/or depression among long-time runners.

Think of it this way: what if somebody from your college called to tell you that after reviewing your transcript, they realized that you were actually 6 units short of graduation. You didn’t really complete the work you thought you had, and they were revoking your diploma as a consequence. You’d freak out, right?

That’s sort of what runners feel like when using GPS devices for the first time. Suddenly, all of our runs become shorter than we always assumed, and our mileage totals don’t add up to the same numbers we’re accustomed to.

For example, the distance of our regular Friday run was historically agreed to be 7.5 miles. We have years of training logs attesting to the fact that we ran 7.5 miles every Friday. So you can imagine our horror when the first GPS readings from this run registered 6.7 miles.

The situation becomes even more nightmarish, as the GPS almost NEVER says a run is longer than we thought – only shorter. Our 13-mile Tuesday run is actually 12.7. Our 7-mile Wednesday run is merely 6.3. Worst of all, our crucial 20-mile marathon training workout may not even be 19 miles.

After all these years of running, we discovered that we owe a lot of mileage to make our training logs accurate. When we thought we were 50 mile-per-week runners, we were actually only hitting the mid-40s. When we were proud to log 80 miles per week, it might have only been 74. It’s enough to drive runners towards antidepressants.

Some of the discrepancy can be chalked up to innocent confusion over certain distances. Before GPS, we’d drive road routes in our car to measure the mileage, or guess at trail distances based on our pace, and come out with close estimates. Then we’d do some rounding. 6.84 would round up to 7, and 5.06 rounded down to 5. We figured that over a long period of time, the occasional overestimates and underestimates would cancel each other out – and it made the math much simpler that way.

However, the short GPS readings can also be attributed to real live, honest-to-goodness scientific inaccuracy. GPS devices come with some inherent technical limitations based on their mode of operation. They can intermittently lose their satellite signal - particularly on routes through canyons or with a lot of tree cover - and need some lag time to recover. The distance you run while the antenna is searching is “uncredited”, and doesn’t count toward your overall mileage.

(While training routes seem to always be short by GPS, it’s interesting to hear GPS users claim, “the course was long” after doing a race. Over any course with lots of turns or curves, it’s very easy to measure a few tenths of a mile long if you’re not taking all of the tangents. Sometimes you just can’t please a GPS’r.)

Thankfully, we’ve also become familiar with the Beta factor, which seems to be just the anti-depressant we’ve been looking for. After one morning run measured remarkably short and caused much consternation among the group, Jon – remember, he’s our scientist - plugged his GPS into a computer running analysis program and calculated a Beta factor of 1.23 for on our 6.8 mile run.

What the heck does this mean? Well, taking into account all the hills along with our speed, those 6.8 miles could be multiplied by 1.23 to arrive at an actual “training value” of 8.4 miles. As you can imagine, we love the Beta factor!

Of course, we still face the same training log dilemma. Do we record 6.8 miles, or 7.5 miles, or 8.4 miles with an asterisk? It all seemed a lot easier when we just wrote “one hour run.”

Actually, there’s nothing that prevents us from going back to the way things used to be. Some people will swear by GPS and never go without it – but the real joy of running is in the experience, not in the numbers. It’s something that all of us - whether we embrace the new technology or not – should always keep in mind.

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Swimming, Waiting, Wishing

Today’s post is relatively short, so I'll start by throwing in a somewhat unrelated story: an actual conversation between my 6-year-old daughter and me from about 3 weeks ago, as we were listening to the radio outside our house:

Me: Hey, [daughter] - come here!

Daughter: What?

Me (turning up radio): Listen to this …

Daughter (mouth open, eyes getting wide): That’s Jack Johnson! Is this a new song?

Me: Yeah – he’s got a new album coming out next month.

Daughter: Cool! We’re going to buy it, right?

Me: You bet … just as soon as it comes out.

Happily, that time is now. Jack Johnson’s new album comes out today, and there probably aren’t any two people more excited about it than me and my 6-year-old daughter. Have I mentioned before how much I like her? I thought so.

OK, thanks for indulging me. Here’s the real post …

**

Over the past several weeks, I’ve written a great deal about running. So much, in fact, that it might cause one to forget that I’m actually a triathlete.

At least, that’s the way I see it, in a philosophical manner of speaking. To paraphrase Plato, my true Form is a triathlete; the ultrarunner evolving before you on this blog is merely one of several outward manifestations of the Form’s essence. Socrates would describe my race schedule to the right as a momentary portrayal of my true Form under various circumstances.

Trust me - I could spend another 300 words going all Socratic on you, explaining theories of actualization and the allegory of the cave – but it will be a lot easier for both of us if you just take my word for it: I think of myself as a triathlete. And from time to time, I’ll try to remind you of that, if for no other reason than to keep myself honest.

For example, I’m still swimming on a regular basis – usually twice per week, and occasionally more. I’ve found it to be a perfect complement to high mileage running, and without the pressure of a race looming ahead, there’s no urgency to reach a certain number of yards or hit specific interval times. In other words, it’s all of the fun, with none of the stress. You can see why I’m reluctant to give it up.

Until recently, I thought that my swimming was simply a nice diversion from all the trail miles I’ve been logging. So you can imagine my surprise when I found out that I’m actually getting academic credit for it. Not only that, but I happen to be scoring fairly well.

Quite a while ago (in this post), I explained how I had to enroll as a student at our local community college in order to use the outdoor pool facilities, which are far and away the best in town. I made some jokes about revisiting college life, possibly joining a fraternity, and worrying about whether or not I’d be graded for the activity. It turns out that I was only half kidding.

When I was registering online for the spring semester swim class, my eye was drawn to the “check my transcript” link on the menu bar. Of course, curiosity led me to click the link, where I saw the following screen:


Apparently, somebody thinks that I’m a straight-A swimmer. They've obviously never seen me trying to do flipturns with paddles and a pull buoy.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve maintained a 4.0 average - probably because it’s never happened. But now, almost 15 years after getting my diploma, I’m on the honor roll. It makes me wonder if I shouldn’t have chosen a different major way back then. Is it possible to earn a degree in triathlon?

I’m fully aware that these swimming grades are absolutely no reflection of my talent as a triathlete. In all likelihood, I’m getting credit and high marks just for showing up. But I think I’ll check my transcript more often in the future, just to feel a virtual pat on the back every now and then. One should never underestimate the value of positive reinforcement, no matter how meaningless or insignificant. Anything that helps the winter workouts click by is always a welcome sight.

On that note …. “Spring Semester” has a sweet ring to it, doesn’t it? It’s a nice reminder that there won’t be too many more weeks until the days are longer, the air is warmer, and my daughter and I are singing Jack Johnson tunes together under sunny summer skies.

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Dances With Cows

A couple of random notes before tackling today’s photos - and then remember, there's an audience participation exercise at the end of it all ….

First: In regards to the previous post, several people – including my wife – asked if I or my kids kissed any of the banana slugs. Apparently it’s a some kind of rite of passage among outdoor enthusiasts and/or crazy UCSC college students. What nobody seems to agree on is what precisely happens (aside from the obvious result of being grossed out) if you kiss a banana slug. I seem to remember hearing that the slug’s toxins caused temporary paralysis of the lips or tongue, but others think you just get a mouthful of slime. If anyone has personal experience that might settle this discussion, that would be fantastic.

(If only we knew an outdoor enthusiast who goes to college in Santa Cruz. Can somebody get Addy to come weigh in on this?)

Either way, the answer to the question was “no”, but that’s not to say I’m completely excluding the idea for another day - because now I’m intrigued. I just have to figure out which kid I can talk into trying it first.

Second: On the day that I took the following pictures, it was raining – just as it was the previous day, and the one before that, and … you get the idea. Anyway, while I was mentally framing the photos, one recurring thought I had was how much more beautiful the landscape looks after a good rain. From there, it was a short mental leap to the classic Ladysmith Black Mambazo song, “Beautiful Rain”, which then bounced around in my head the entire afternoon.

I hoped to find a video of that song for my sidebar – only to realize that the song came and went long before the advent of YouTube. So I’m doing the next best thing: I put the song in an mp3 below that you can click and listen to while reading. And just because I’m feeling generous, on the sidebar you’ll find one of the high points in the history of children’s television: LBM singing the alphabet song on Sesame Street. The next time anyone tells you that TV is an educational or cultural vacuum, feel free to cite this video as a sharp rebuttal.

All right, enough intro. On with the post …

**

Undoubtedly, my race schedule this year will take me through some beautiful geographic areas that I haven’t visited before – so lately, it’s occurred to me that I’d like to try and capture some images of those journeys whenever possible.

The problem, as I’ve explained before, is that I usually don’t run with a camera. We only have one digital camera in the family, and I’m reluctant to take it on the trails and risk getting it muddy, sweaty, or broken from a fall.

Several weeks ago, I thought my problem was solved, from a most surprising source: my employer.

Last year was my 10th anniversary working for this company, and I recently received one of those “Since we can’t give you a raise or promotion, please select an item from this catalog to show you how much we appreciate you, employee #2056!” mailings that larger corporations are fond of. One of the items was a small digital camera - and I figured since the CEO was picking up the tab, it was at least worth a shot.

The camera arrived, but I have to say I’m disappointed. It’s difficult to use, the owner’s manual is one of those indecipherable rebuses, and the picture quality is terrible. Coincidentally, it’s made by the same company that produces my son’s Smart Globe, and something called the Barbie Little Learner Laptop – so technologically speaking, I guess my “award” is just one notch above a Fisher-Price Talking Click Camera. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.

But the camera has two things going for it: 1) It fits inside my solo camelpack, and 2) If it gets grimy with sweat or mud, it’s no big loss. So I thought I’d give it a try on a recent trail run, and post some pictures here for review.

(Now’s the time to cue the music)

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I gave the camera a test spin at Toro County Park, a 4700-acre open space located on the main thoroughfare between Monterey and Salinas. The predominant features of the park (besides the landscape) are herds of cattle that roam and graze among the grassy hills and oak-strewn valleys.



The rain had stopped just prior to my run, and the sunlight was doing amazing things through the clouds and trees. If you enlarge this picture, the rays streaming through this tree make the whole scene look kind of artsy, like a mother and child in repose. Except, you know ... in this case the mother and child are cows.



I also managed to catch this cool rainbow. All in all, it’s not a bad way to start a run.



Just a few minutes into the run, the trail passes below one of my favorite trees in Monterey County. In the summer and fall, this tree displays about 100 brilliant shades of green, yellow, red, and orange. In the winter, it reminds me of the Whomping Willow at Hogwarts, with its branches reaching down to the ground to pluck me into its limbs if I don’t pass underneath quickly enough.



After a couple of short climbs, vistas like this are fairly common: rolling hills, small cliffs, lush vegetation. The town of Salinas is barely visible in the background – but by this point, I’ve pretty much forgotten all about it.



John Steinbeck was probably standing somewhere close to this very spot when he famously described this area as the “Pastures of Heaven”. I can’t really phrase it any better than that, so I won’t even try.



Nearly every time I run here, something like this happens: cows settle in wherever they see fit, even if it’s directly across the path I’m trying to follow. If several of them are gathered at once (as in the first picture), I have to tiptoe and dance my way around them to follow the trail to the other side. Once, the cows were bunched together so tightly that I had to tap them on the backside in order to weave through.



The cows never seem to mind my presence; in fact, I can usually walk right up and say how-do-you-do.

Many open spaces in Monterey County have scenes like this: old pioneer stables, corrals, or farm houses, echoes of an earlier time. They’re a nice reminder of the way of life that once existed here, and I always find myself thankful that they’ve been left relatively undisturbed in the ensuing decades.



Heading back toward my starting point, the path takes me down a ridgeline with views like this on either side. I frequently do this run at midday – and when I’m passing through this kind of scenery, sometimes it's extremely difficult to drag myself back to the office for the afternoon.



Inevitably though, I end up back at my car, and all that’s left is to say goodbye to the cows. It’s never a heartbreaking farewell, though – because I know I’ll see them again soon.


**
(OK, audience participation time!! Obviously, I’m not blown away by my freebie camera. If anyone has recommendations for a camera that is 1) small, 2) cheap, and 3) takes decent pictures, I’d love to hear them. Comment or e-mail me with your suggestions.)

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The Waterfall

(Administrative note: this week’s blog entries will be photo essays, with some audience feedback solicited at the conclusion of the second post. Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to do anything crazy like voting in an on-line popularity contest – I’m done with that sort of thing. Until then, just sit back and take in some pictures from the weekend.)

**

All things considered, perhaps the place should have a different name.

The land formation known as the waterfall at Garland Ranch is actually just a steep outcropping of rocks that remain dry for the vast majority of the year. Visitors frequently see the name on a trail map, and hike to the spot expecting something majestic or tropical, only to find that it’s not quite as spectacular as they imagined.

Each year, the rock formation spends more than ten months completely dry – but after several heavy rains fall on the land basin above it, and the ground slowly grows more saturated, sometime during the mid-winter I’ll inevitably initiate the following conversation at home:

Me: Hey, guess what? The waterfall’s running again.

Kids: Cool! Let’s go see it!

And so it was that my kids and I took advantage of a lull between storms, and hiked to the waterfall last Saturday afternoon.

The waterfall trail is part of our running group’s regular Friday morning route, so I’m fortunate to pass by the rock formation at least once per week. Lately, the trail is still dark when we pass through the canyon, so it was especially nice to enjoy it in the daylight this time around - and of course, when I’m hiking with the kids, the pace is slow enough for me to snap a few pictures along the way.

But first, before we get to the waterfall: remember my last photo post from Garland, when I reported that the Carmel River was so low that you could walk across it in several places without getting your feet wet?

Obviously, we’re not having that problem anymore. Now, on with the hike …


On Fridays, we descend this trail as our standard approach to the waterfall. The single track is fairly narrow and technical before giving way to a series of stairs and bridges. After crossing this bridge, we round a curve and see the following:

See the stream of water at the center? That’s Carmel Valley’s world-famous, 6-weeks-per-year waterfall. If you weren’t actually looking for it, you might miss the whole thing.


This is a view of a lower bridge from the bridge pictured above; just to give you a sense of how much elevation is lost as we descend through the waterfall canyon.


A close-up shot of the waterfall: basically, it’s just a steady trickle of water flowing down the face of the rocks before dripping into a shallow ravine below. Like I said, it’s not exactly Fantasy Island back here. However …


Whenever I look at the top of the waterfall from the base, the lush greenery atop steep cliffs reminds me of a scene out of Lost – then again, just about everything I see lately is reminding me of this Thursday’s Lost season premiere. To say I’m looking forward to it would be putting it quite mildly.


On the other side of the ravine is an embankment that my kids love climbing up. My daughter calls this area Big Thunder Mountain – which makes me think that we might have visited Disneyland a few times too many. Anyway - at the top of the embankment is a cave they like to explore …


We’re 99% certain that bats live inside here. Thankfully, none of the kids has verified this with an actual bat encounter – at least, not yet. On the other hand, we were more than happy to come across these little dudes …


Banana slugs! This was the largest of three different ones that we saw. For my kids, this was the highlight of the day - not the beautiful trails, or the half hour playing around the waterfall – but watching these banana slugs. Talk about simple pleasures. Speaking of my kids …


Sometimes people will ask me why I never include pictures of my children in this blog – so this photo is to appease them. See my kiddos back there? Aren’t they cute? They look a lot like their mother, wouldn’t you say? Oh, wait … you probably can’t answer that either.

Eventually it’s time to go, and we walk down the canyon away from the waterfall:

This is a picture from the lower bridge, looking up at the higher one. When we run through this canyon, we cruise past all this scenery in less than a couple of minutes. Sometimes I find myself wanting to slow down and soak it all in – which, of course, is somewhat problematic when you’re with a group of runners.

That’s why it’s extra nice to bring the kids out here from time to time: I get to share with them the places I run, and they get to remind me how to appreciate it all through the eyes of a child.

And if we happen to spot some banana slugs along the way, the day can’t get much better.

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Trail (and Tri) Tag

(Kind of an alliterative title, huh? It was an accident, I promise.)

OK, it’s about time I get around to doing this, so it’s not weighing on my conscience anymore.

Here’s the tag Mark sent me:

1. My most memorable moment on the trails in 2007.
2. The best new trail I discovered in 2007.
3. My best performance of 2007.
4. I don't know how I previously survived without...
5. The person I would most like to meet on the trails in 2008.
6. The race I am most excited about for 2008.

And just to keep things interesting, I’ve giving myself an additional challenge …

7. Keep it all under 1000 words. Ready … Go!

Most Memorable Moment: One morning, a friend and I took off on one of those “We know there’s a trail there, but we have no idea where it goes” exploratory runs, starting before sunrise on a Sunday morning. We ended up running for almost two hours through a beautiful wilderness area that borders a dam on the upper reaches of the Carmel River.

On our way back, we inadvertently crossed the property line of two angry dogs – one German Shepherd and one Rottweiler mix – who charged at us, baring their teeth and barking like crazy. We froze in our tracks, and had a brief staredown with the dogs, but they weren’t settling down at all, and I knew it was going to end badly for us.

That’s when the dogs’ owner came out of his trailer wearing nothing but flip-flops, boxers, and a bathrobe.

Thankfully, he called off the dogs, and only gave us a mild lecture about being on private property before pointing us in the direction of civilization and politely recommending that we leave – which we did, gladly (and with the dogs growling and snarling at us all the way). And before you ask: no, we never went back. But it sure was a beautiful run.

Incidentally, that also doubles as my “Most memorable conversation with a redneck standing outside in his underwear” for 2007 … in case you were wondering.

Best New Trail: Instead of singling out one specific trail, I’m going the gestalt route on this one, and extolling the collective. That’s because the best “new trail” experience I’ve had this winter is visiting all of my familiar trails under the cover of darkness.

Most years, I spend countless mornings running on trails for nine months - but after the time changes and the winter sun starts rising later, I log most of my miles on roads until the spring. This year, I felt more reluctant than ever to leave the trails behind, and had a light-bulb moment of sorts, realizing that I didn’t have to return to the roads – especially since I don’t have a spring marathon on the calendar. So I decided to stock up on some lights, and just kept hitting the trails.

Running the trails in the dark makes you appreciate them in a different manner. Think of it this way: let’s say you had a co-worker who, for years and years, you only saw during the day, whose friendship you enjoyed and whom you flirted with a lot with before finally asking her out. Then she shows up for your first date wearing knee-high boots and a little black dress – and you realize that she’s way more interesting, enticing, and potentially dangerous after the sun goes down.

That’s sort of how it feels when you see your favorite trails in the dark for the first time. Then after multiple early mornings together – just like spending several late nights with your date – you develop a more intimate familiarity with something you used to know only superficially. There’s a whole new set of rules to be learned. As far as the trails are concerned, thoughts like “Whoa - I didn’t realize that rock was there”, or “That root was a lot higher than I thought” seem to come up quite frequently lately. I’ve taken some lumps, but overall I’m really happy with the decision to advance the relationship.

(In a related story – I’ve tripped and fallen on the trails more often this year than ever before. But that’s probably a different post altogether.)

Best Performance: I’m assuming this should be something related to racing - which is a shame, because some of the things I celebrate the most have nothing to do with athletics. For example, I really enjoyed the night I secretly took pictures of Rob Lowe, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Andy Baldwin, and Carl Lewis, and I’m especially proud of the way I’ve learned to use the triple-speed advance function on our TiVo and land within one second of the program resuming after commercial breaks.

Since I have to pick an athletic endeavor … there’s no question it would be Vineman. Doing an ironman was – to use a phrase du jour – on my bucket list for many years, and in 2007 I finally got to cross it off. But trust me, I tell just as many people about that TiVo thing as I do the ironman (and strangely, they're sometimes equally impressed by both).

I Don’t Know How I Previously Survived Without: eBay! This shouldn’t surprise anyone who read my blog last month. If you didn’t, here are a couple of CliffsNotes: 1) I couldn’t afford to be a triathlete or ultrarunner without buying my gear there, and 2) I haven’t paid retail price for a pair of shoes in over three years. Enough said.

Person I’d Most Like to Meet: the obvious answer is to list all the bloggers I hope to meet at any of my upcoming races – and while that’s true, it feels like taking the easy way out of this question.

Because you know who I’m really hoping to meet most of all? Whoever the guy is who gives out the finishers’ belt buckles at Western States. I want to shake his hand at the awards ceremony at Placer High School as he’s giving me a buckle of my own.

On that note …

Race I’m Most Excited About: Come on now. I don’t even have to say it, right? I didn’t think so.

That’s a good thing, because I’m close to my word limit - which means it’s time to stop.

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