End of the Affair

Actual conversation between me and a coworker from a few days ago …

Her: So are you feeling excited yet? It’s getting close.

Me: Uh … what is?

Her: The Big Sur Marathon – you’re doing it again, right?

Me: Oh, that. Well, actually …

And that instigated a brief conversation which I’ll elaborate upon here, on the subject of why I’m not running Big Sur this year.

Logistically, it’s a no brainer. I’m running a 50-mile race two weeks prior to, and a 100K six days following Big Sur. For the first few months of 2008, I’ve completely shifted into ultrarunner mode. I haven’t done any speed work or long tempo runs, and I’ve run on pavement fewer than 5 times since the start of the year. It wouldn’t make any rational sense to throw a road marathon into what has been a very calculated buildup to Western States.

Emotionally, it’s a whole different story.

This will be the first time in a dozen years that I won’t be lined up at the start line in Pfeiffer State Park, watching the sun battle the fog for supremacy of the day (and praying like crazy for the fog to win), gathering my nerves before testing the limits of body and spirit on the long, hilly road north to Carmel. And when that many memories are involved, it can be hard to say goodbye.

Big Sur is the race that made me fall in love with marathon racing. It’s also the race that has left me broken and humiliated, before inspiring me to train harder than I ever thought was possible. Over the years, it’s tested me with some of the greatest challenges and most intense struggles I’ve ever faced. Accordingly, my successful races there immediately became the proudest accomplishments of my athletic career.

In other words, Big Sur has made me a stronger runner – and probably a better person as well. And for that, I’ll always owe it a debt of gratitude.

Over the years, I’ve described my feelings about Big Sur in a manner very similar to a comfortable long-term marriage. I’ve also logged a TON of mileage with an analogy comparing the sport of triathlon to a sexy mistress that eventually destroyed the stable relationship. In that regard, last year’s marathon was more like going back for a booty call than an indication that the relationship was healed. (On that topic, here’s a free tip: if you want to get a lot of Google hits, use the words “booty call” in your post title some day. Trust me on this one.) In the context of that metaphor, I guess I’d say that skipping Big Sur this year officially marks the end of the love affair.

The ironic part is that the final breaking point wasn’t the presence of triathlon in my life – it was the ultras. Then again, perhaps that’s not so far-fetched: like most failed marriages, this one fell apart not specifically because of what I was doing outside the relationship, but from all the things I perceived to be lacking inside of it. Besides, once I’d demonstrated the willingness to stray, the likelihood of doing so again with somebody else increased dramatically.

(In fact, if I wanted to continue the crazy mistress analogy, I could argue that I now have two mistresses: triathlon is the $5000 per hour Emperors Club hardbody that needs me to keep spending money on her [on bike gear, wetsuits, etc] to prove my commitment, while ultrarunning is the down to earth, cute-but-not-flashy escort service girl who just enjoys spending a lot of time with me. That is, if I wanted to continue it – but honestly, we’re all probably better off if I don’t.)

The fact that Big Sur’s proximity took me by surprise is probably the most telling illustration of how I’ve more or less moved on with my athletic pursuits. Normally, on any given day in February through April, I can tell you exactly how many days remain before the race, as well as how many more track workouts and long runs I had scheduled before race day. This year, I know the race is out there somewhere, and I know it’s doing well … but it doesn’t really impact my day to day thoughts or plans.

(Incidentally, the marathon seems to have moved on as well. Last month I sent both the Chairman and Race Director e-mails telling them I wouldn’t be at Big Sur this year, only because I had other conflicting plans, not due to any dissatisfaction with the race itself. Basically, I played the “it’s not you, it’s me” angle up as much as possible, and thanked them for allowing me to participate [I did a pre-race benediction each of the past several years], as well as for all the work they do to create such a world-class race. I never heard a reply from either one of them. Clearly, the race will continue along just fine without me.)

However, as I said at the outset, I’ll always owe Big Sur a debt of gratitude – so I’ll never turn my back on it completely. I’ll definitely run the race again in the future, but only as it complements whatever other plans I have for the year, instead of merely to maintain appearances, or to keep a streak of successive races intact.

I’d also like to be a small part of race weekend, and help other runners get to know Big Sur in the way I have over the past 12 years. I’d welcome the opportunity to provide someone a small measure of the satisfaction and pleasure that I’ve always enjoyed with this event.

(And if this starting to sound like a creepy guy trying to pimp out his ex-wife … well, that’s why I stopped the analogy early a few paragraphs ago.)

I figure that the easiest way for me to contribute is to organize some kind of gathering for any bloggers who happen to be in town for this year’s race – so that’s exactly what I’m going to do. But seeing as how you’ve already plodded through over 1000 words, I’ll hold off on details until my next post.

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Return to Madness*

*only this time, it's not about running ...

**
It's a poorly-guarded secret around this blog that I bleed UCLA Bruin blue and gold.

I'm a UCLA alum. I wore their uniform in intercollegiate competition. I met my future wife in my freshman dormitory. I trained for my first marathon running endless miles around the campus. You could say there are some memories.

Throw in the fact that I'm an enormous sports fan, and this time of year is obviously an exciting one.

Two years ago, I wrote this post during March Madness, recalling a brush with college basketball royalty I was fortunate enough to have as an undergraduate. Then UCLA promptly went out and got crushed in the final game. So of course, I figured I must have jinxed them.

Last year, I kept all of those Bruin thoughts to myself, so if they lost, at least I wouldn't share any responsibility for it. Not only were they bounced again, by the same team (Florida), but it happened one round earlier than the previous year. In other words, my silence didn't do them a bit of good.

So this year, I'm back on the megaphone. Allow me one quick shout out today, and we're back to regularly scheduled running and rambling on Wednesday. And now, without further ado ...

Let's go Bru-ins! Clap clap clapclapclap!

OK, that's enough - I'll stop there. Thanks for indulging me. I feel much better.

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Running Contradiction

Admin note: today’s post is a brief one, as I’m juggling some other writing commitments this week. Part of it is kind of exciting, which I’ll explain in more detail later. For today, let’s get right to it …

**
“I have no belief –
But I believe I’m a walking contradiction –
And I ain’t got no right … “
- Green Day, “Walking Contradiction” (click to play – explicit lyrics)

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It’s hard to tell by looking at me – but I’m pretty much a walking contradiction when it comes to my athletic pursuits.

For somebody who usually writes two posts per week on subjects related (however tangentially) to triathlon and ultrarunning, I clam up like a frightened turtle when it comes to actually talking about those topics.

Here’s a case in point: last week, I stopped into our local running store to stock up on some Sport Beans and Nuun caps, which have become staples of my longest training runs. The clerk was a cute, friendly twenty-something year-old girl in cotton tights and a 5K t-shirt. We made a bit of small talk, and as she was running my credit card through the machine, she initiated the following exchange:

Her: So do you have any upcoming races that you’re training for?

Me: Um … I’m just, uh … doing a few trail races this year.

Her: Oh, cool – that sounds like fun.

Me: (long, awkward pause) Um … yeah. Is that ready for me to sign?

And then I took care of my receipt and said goodbye. I’m not exactly Mr Smooth with the ladies nowadays.

I know it seems crazy, but in everyday conversation, I never voluntarily bring up the races I’m doing – and the bigger the event is, the less inclined I am to discuss it at all. I probably skated around the girl’s question for one of the following reasons:

1. I’m very much an introvert, and making small talk of any kind frequently terrifies me.

2. I know a truthful reply will lead to a barrage of follow-up questions that I’m not really eager to answer (see reason #1).

3. I’m afraid of getting the “Oh my God, you’re crazy” reaction from someone who doesn’t know the whole backstory of how I’ve gradually built upon progressive goals to get where I am.

4. I’m not always proud of my athletic exploits, in that I recognize their inherently selfish nature, and understand that the commitment is a hazardous sea to navigate.

Or, on second thought, maybe it’s just that …

5. I’m a borderline sociopath.

I could make a strong argument for any of those choices. The funny part is, each item on the list above would seem to preclude somebody from having a blog – yet here I sit, plunking away my life story for anyone who happens to stop by with the click of a mouse.

Furthermore, in this space, no subject is too trivial, and no conversation too tangential. It’s like my own little Batcave, where the same guy who can’t be bothered to answer questions about upcoming races in person transforms into some kind of caped crusader of trail running (or triathlon, as the case may be). I’m more than happy to talk about my workouts or races or goals, and eager to hear feedback from anyone who’d like to offer it.

And rest assured, you’re going to hear a lot more about Western States in the near future – because that’s one of the side projects I’m working on. With any luck, the posts will come across as something more substantial than the ramblings of a crazy person.

But for obvious reasons, that’s not something I’m prepared to guarantee.

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Dancing in the Dark

Admin note: I wrote this post more than a month ago, but didn’t get around to posting it for a few weeks, by which time the subject matter didn’t quite fit the daylight circumstances. However, with the recent time change and the temporary return of dark mornings (I turned my headlamp off at 7:05 AM on Monday), the post rings true once again.

I know none of this makes sense now, but it will after you read the post.

**

“The fight is won or lost far away from witnesses - behind the lines, in the gym, and out there on the road, long before I dance under those lights.”
- Muhammad Ali

I spend a lot of time running in the dark – an inconvenience that just goes with the territory.

For the past decade or so (coincidentally, about the same length of time that I’ve been a father), running has always been a “do it early or don’t do it at all” proposition. Most of my weekday runs are completed by 7:15 AM, although on weekends I’ll stay out a little later.

But no matter how high my training volume gets, I've always considered it somewhat irrational to devote an entire weekend day to a workout. Between home projects, birthday parties, sporting events, attending church, or just good-old-fashioned family time, there are simply too many things going on to spend several hours away from the house for the frivolous sake of race preparedness.

Consequently, on most weekends I’m home from my workout by 9:00 AM. Under normal circumstances, this allows plenty of time to get in whatever mileage I need for the day.

Unfortunately, training for an ultra isn’t usually considered normal circumstances.

Over the last several weeks, my long training runs have stretched into multiple-hour jaunts through the hills and canyons of Garland Ranch. And the longer I want to run, the earlier I have to leave the house.

As a result, on most Saturdays or Sundays (or, with increasing frequency, both) I walk out the door into pitch darkness, equipped with lamps to light my path once I hit the trails.

Running in darkness has some practical application to ultras: developing balance and dexterity on unpredictable terrain; gaining confidence and familiarity with various lighting systems that I’ll rely upon to get me through the night of race weekend; or learning to accommodate the uneasy, ambiguous possibility of becoming a mountain lion snack somewhere deep in the forest (honestly, I haven’t fully accommodated that feeling yet). But more than anything, it’s a chance to experience the solitude and isolation that runners constantly grapple with throughout a 30-hour event.

That’s why I don’t mind setting out on my own into the darkness – well, that, plus the fact that it’s hard to convince people to wake up at 4:00 AM to run on dangerous trails in the dark. And I have to do what I have to do.

The main entrance to Garland is a 4-mile drive from my house - but an alternate entrance sits less than one mile from my street, from where I can access trails that eventually connect to the park’s visitor center. The only catch is that you have to go up a couple of ridgelines, and down into a couple of canyons to get there.

After entering the park, my first climb takes me about 1400 feet (since I’m not a GPS guy, guess how I know these numbers … by topo maps! Have I mentioned before that I’m old-school?), and this is the view I’m rewarded with once I reach the ridge:

In other words, there isn’t any view. But if you look closely, you can see a few lights flickering to life in the homes of all the non-crazy residents of Carmel Valley.

Descending into the canyon before sunrise always seems to take about 10 times longer than it would in the light - mainly because I’m terrified of falling and breaking an ankle in the dark wilderness (that whole lion bait thing I mentioned before). But eventually I bottom out, and start climbing over the second ridge that will take me to the park entrance.

This climb levels off in a meadow about 800 feet up, and as I hit the open space, I see the first signs of daybreak:

It doesn’t look like much, but that sliver of daylight on the horizon is one of the most welcome sights I ever see in the middle of a long run. No matter how tired I am, daybreak always energizes me to the point that I feel like I can run forever. Sometimes, I’ll continue climbing another 1000 feet to the ridgeline , where the views get even better:

I love seeing Carmel Valley from an early-morning vantage point like this. (And if you look at this picture closely, you can see my house – it’s the brown one by the little hill down there. Can you see it? Doesn’t it look great with the new deck we’re building? I think it complements the surroundings nicely.)

After the second climb, it’s another long descent towards the main entrance, and a network of wide, flat fire roads trails circumnavigating the visitor center and the Carmel River basin. By the time I get there, the sun has come up, and I finally see other souls who woke up early to enjoy a peaceful journey through the park.

I see the old guy with walking poles heading out for a long hike. The twenty-something couple jogging, each one with headphones. The chatty group of Asian women who always smile and wave. And a lot of people taking their dogs for a leisurely stroll.

As I’m passing, there’s nothing that really distinguishes me from the rest of the crowd. With my flashlight tucked under my jacket, and my headlamp stowed away in a pocket, there’s no indication that I awoke any earlier than the rest of this group. With several miles on my legs, my cruising speed remains very pedestrian – for all practical purposes, I look like some big, slow guy who rolled out of bed to jog off a few beers from the night before.

Which is just the way I like it, really. I don’t need witnesses to understand the kind of tasks I’m undertaking right now. These sunrises at Garland aren’t the lights that I’m meant to dance under. I remind myself that all the hours I spend laboring before dawn are merely preparations for the larger battle that awaits me this June.

So I circle the lower trails anonymously, then turn and climb back into the hills to start the long return trip home. This is where my fight is going to be won - behind the lines, out there on the steep climbs and deep canyon trails of this park, in solitude and under cover of darkness.

And when the time comes for Western States, I’ll be more than ready to dance.

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Runners Wanted

Believe it or not, this is a real photograph:

It hasn’t been photoshopped or digitally modified – it’s just a plain old (yet amazingly cool) picture taken by a guy named Thomas Peschak, for an article called Shark Detectives in the September 2005 issue of Africa Geographic.

It’s a good example of how a still photograph can be even more captivating than a video, as the uncertainty of what happens next is mysteriously intriguing. At the very least, it’s an effective way to capture the attention.

That’s why I inserted the photo into an e-mail to my Friday running group.

For various reasons, the weekly gathering of my training partners on Friday mornings has dwindled significantly over the past several weeks. Injuries, illnesses, work/travel schedules, and general ambivalence have gradually taken their toll – and instead of drawing 4 or 5 other runners on a regular basis, I recently find myself thankful when anyone shows up at all.

So on Thursday, I sent the picture along with the regular reminder, as well as this message:

“The man in the kayak is you. The shark is complacency. Who’s in?”

I figured the symbolic kick in the pants, not to mention the pleasantly early sunrises we enjoyed last week, would get a few more people out to the 6AM start. The e-mail went out to a group of about 10 runners.

The result? Exactly one person showed up. So much for capturing anyone's attention.

Apparently I don’t have quite the persuasive power of a shark - but at least the two of us managed to have a nice run. And I was able to evade the predator of complacency for still one more day.

Finally, in a related story: I’m currently in the market for some Friday morning trail runners. If you happen to know of anyone in the Monterey area who might be interested, please tell them where to find me.

(P.S. in case you're wondering ... the shark didn't attack the kayaker.)

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35 Going On 50

A few administrative notes to follow up on some previous posts …

First: thanks to everyone who offered kind or sympathetic words in response to the post about my sister. It’s comforting – but more than a little disheartening – to hear that sibling issues are so prevalent.

To update the story - I spoke to her again on the phone last week. It was a nice talk, although I wouldn’t say there was any sort of meaningful shift that I could detect. So it seems like business as usual – although maybe one of these days I’ll be pleasantly surprised.

Second: the polls from the Choose Your Own Adventure post have officially closed, and (using my best Wolf Blitzer voice here) I’m ready to make a projection – the comic strip story prevailed. Thank you to everyone who commented or e-mailed me. I went strictly by popular vote, so I don’t have to worry about superdelegates throwing the election to the second place finisher, which was tentatively titled “Why I taught my son the F-bomb”. Although, as a few people pointed out, several of those suggested topics will probably find a way to seep into a post one of these days anyway.

Finally: the promised Foo Fighters post will come along in the near future as well – but in the meantime, answer me this: is anyone making more creative videos than the Foo Fighters lately? Their latest is on my sidebar – and whenever I see it on VH1 while I’m getting dressed for work, it’s far and away the best four minutes of my morning (or 12 minutes, if you count me rewinding it twice on TiVo). The title of the song is a little ominous for an ultrarunner to have on his sidebar, but what the heck - I’ll roll the dice with these guys any day.

That's all for now. On with the post …

**

In a previous post I described how I’ve made a habit of doing underwater laps after each swim workout, just to keep an element of playfulness in the regular routine. I typically do 2x 25 yards underwater, and if I’m feeling particularly strong, on the last attempt I’ll stay under and push off the far wall again, extending the interval another 10 yards or so.

I frequently do these intervals by myself, but sometimes the other swimmers in my group will join me, and that’s what happened one day last week. We did our first underwater rep, and the group waited about 30 seconds before dipping under the surface for the final interval. I lagged behind a couple of seconds longer to draw one more deep breath, then followed suit.

Approaching the far wall, I tapped it with my fingers, turned my legs around, and pushed off in the opposite direction. I managed a couple of breaststroke pulls and frantically kicked my way more than halfway across before finally coming up for air, completely wasted from the oxygen depletion.

Treading water in the middle of the pool, I slowly turned towards the wall where the others had finished, just a brief second before they turned around and saw me 15 yards behind them. It was the farthest I had ever traveled underwater.

Just then, as she was climbing out of the pool, the ringleader of our group initiated the following exchange:

Her: What happened, Donald?

Me (gasping): I ran out of air.

Her: Yeah, sometimes it goes bad like that. Don’t worry about it.

And with that, she turned and walked toward the locker room, and the others started climbing out of the pool as well.

It took my oxygen-starved brain a couple of seconds to realize, Wait - I'm facing them right now ... they think I only made it 10 yards underwater! By that time, everyone was headed to the showers - but I didn’t have enough breath to shout a response back to them anyway.

Once I finally made my way to the locker room, the thought briefly crossed my mind to track a couple of guys down to say “Actually, fellas – I went 35 yards, not 10.” But then I questioned exactly what the point of that would be, and ended up just keeping my mouth shut.

I know what I did, and that’s the important part. What’s more, the underwater effort pushed the envelope of my maximal ability to this point – and it stoked a small fire to blast completely through the barrier at some point in the future.

I think I can make it 50 yards underwater someday, so now I’m putting it out there as an official goal. This will be a fun one to chase (that is, if oxygen debt and prolonged episodes of sheer panic are your idea of fun – I’ll have to write more about this sometime). I'm not putting any deadlines or pressure on myself – it just seems like a cool challenge to go after from time to time.

Of course - knowing my luck - when I finally reach up and grab the wall at the same place I left it after swimming two lengths below the surface, someone will probably wonder out loud why I never left the wall to start the interval.

I’ll be way too far out of breath to correct them, but that won’t bother me one bit.

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I Report, You Decide

I guess there’s no getting out of this one.

I’ve been tagged – not once, not twice, but three times - to tell you seven random things about myself. It seems like an interesting premise – until you consider the fact that I describe random stuff about me nearly every day on this here blog. I mean … random is more or less my M.O.

You already know that I’m a good igloo builder, that I frequently shave my legs, that I got hooked on Lost over the past year (on that note – I just realized that I’m an idiot for predicting Desmond in an earlier post. He wasn’t even on Oceanic 815. The lesson, again: never listen to me.), and that I have a crazy/sexy crush on Shakira. Those kind of tidbits just come with the territory around here.

I usually justify inclusion of the random stuff by crafting very tenuous applications to endurance sport training and racing. But today, I’ve decided to take this tag in a different direction: I’m listing random stuff that has absolutely no relevance to the world of triathlon.

Any one of these topics could be a full-length post in its own right – and to prove it (and to throw another wrinkle into today’s mix), I’ll pledge to do exactly that with one of them later this month.

Your job is to vote for which topic you want to read more about. I figure if I have to go through this tag thing, I’m dragging you all along with me. Think of it this way: at least you don’t have to pay text messaging rates like when you vote for a contestant on American Idol. And I won’t make you read through a separate results post that takes a full hour to tell you what can be said in three minutes.

Got it? OK then - pick something from the following list, and the item with the most comment votes gets its own piece. You could find out …

1. Why I consider myself a Christian, and I love rock music – but I can’t stand Christian rock music.

2. Why I made my 9-year-old son a mix CD last summer that includes a couple of songs with the F-bomb in them – and my somewhat defensible reason for doing so.

3. How Salinas, California became one of the most illiterate cities in America – and how it’s directly connected to the town’s mistreatment of John Steinbeck.

4. What my backup plan is for channeling my competitive nature in the event that I ever become a quadriplegic.

5. How I inadvertently contributed to the early demise of one of my favorite comic strips in the 1990s.

6. Why I had to bite my tongue multiple times to avoid making a scene in front of schoolchildren inside the Carmel Mission last month.

7. Why the Foo Fighters are the best rock band of the past decade – and why their story should be a mandatory part of elementary school education.

Actually, the more I consider that last one, I’m starting to think that I can work a triathlon angle into it – so I’ll go ahead and write that post someday. And I just made your job 1/7th easier, because now you only have a list of six to choose from.

So those are your options. It’s like one of those old Choose Your Own Adventure books, only in blog form. Comment or e-mail your preference, and let’s see what page we end up on next.

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