Sleepless in Carmel Valley

My original intention this week was to lay low for a few days, then post a Diablo preview on Thursday in advance of the race this Saturday. But a couple of other thoughts had been on my mind since the beginning of the week – and then something happened yesterday that seemed to bring a whole post theme together.

Namely, I fell asleep in my dentist’s chair.

I had some dental work done in the afternoon, and as the procedure was drawing to a close, my dentist initiated the following conversation:

Him: Let me ask you something … how much sleep do you get at night?

Me: Not very much.

Him: Would you say like, seven hours? Six?

Me: Um … I’m lucky if I get five.

And that initiated a long lecture from my health care professional about all the dire risks associated with sleeping any fewer than eight hours per night. Nevermind the fact that none of this specifically pertained to the health of my teeth - or that the drill, hose, and vacuum inside my mouth put me in a somewhat compromised position to mount a counterargument. His point was very clear: I'm placing my long-term survivability in serious jeopardy unless I immediately start sleeping at least 3 additional hours every night.

His impassioned stance echoed something I had read a few days earlier: a somewhat ridiculous New York Times article detailing the impending 21st Century pseudo-epidemic of time-constrained computer junkies literally blogging themselves to death.

The short story is that over the past few months, three high-profile bloggers have suffered heart attacks, two of which were fatal. All three were slavishly devoted to publishing a certain number of posts per week, and employing necessary collateral tactics to grow their readership. Nevermind that one of them was 60 years old, and another was 50 – it was the sleep deprivation and nonstop blogging that killed them.

The premise was shocking enough, and the source reliable enough, that mainstream TV media picked up on the story – and by yesterday, CNN was examining the health risks associated with overzealous blogging. And – adding the ridiculous to the absurd - CNN decided to solicit none other than Perez Hilton (the self proclaimed "Queen of Celebrity Gossip") for expert commentary on the issue.

I mean … this all seems more than a little sensational. Didn’t CNN used to be a news station? When did it turn into US Weekly on cable?

My dentist doesn’t have any idea that I’m an ultrarunner or triathlete, and I’m pretty certain that he doesn’t read my blog - although I can’t be absolutely positive about that last one. (Honestly, you never know who is out there. Maybe if he had asked me about Panic at the Disco dropping their exclamation point, I would have been a little more suspicious). All I know for sure is that he’s yet another presumably respected authority who is bugging the heck out of me with this whole sleep deprivation hysteria.

(Besides - you'd think he wouldn't mind my dozing off. If you were a dentist, which would you prefer - a patient who is screaming and squirming, or somebody who holds perfectly still but occasionally snores? Me too.)

As to the reason why all of this “serious concern” bothers me, I can sum my feelings up in two words: necessary evil. And I'm willing to bet that just about anyone reading this can identify with me.

Of COURSE it’s good to get 8 hours of sleep per night (and, on a side note, does this come as breaking news to anyone? It's right up there with "eating more vegetables" on the list of things that everybody knows, but nobody does.), and of course I’d like to get more rest than I currently do. But I can’t honestly say that the required tradeoff is something I’d be happy doing.

Putting it more directly, here are the reasons why I get so little sleep: 1) I wake up early in the morning - sometimes VERY early – to train. 2) I spend a lot of time on the computer at night, whether it’s blogging, writing e-mails, or just cruising the Web. And 3) My wife and I try to spend some time actually talking to each other for a while between the time our kids go to sleep and the time we crash exhausted into bed for the night.

That’s not even counting the evenings when I have to work late, or we attend some school concert or science fair or church gathering as a family. In other words, life is busy. There’s simply not a lot of time for sleep.

But on the whole, it’s a compromise I’m willing to live with, especially when I ask myself which of those things I’d relinquish.

I could give up (or scale back) my training and racing, but that would take away one of my primary joys in life, and might simply open the door to an assortment of other health risks associated with inactivity. Is it healthier to sleep for six hours and run for two each day, or to sleep for eight and run none? An argument could be made either way.

I could decrease my computer time, but eliminating writing would deprive me of my favorite outlet of expression, and the absence of e-mail and the Internet (which has become my main news source) could potentially isolate me from the outside world. Besides, how else would I be able to find cheap trail running shoes?

And option #3 – cutting out on quality time with my wife and family – is a nonstarter. So the question shouldn’t be whether increased sleep is good for you – it should be whether that benefit is worth forfeiting any of those other things that carve away from that sacred 8-hour block.

In my case, falling asleep in my dentist’s chair, drinking 4 Diet Pepsis per day, or dozing off while the rest of the family is watching American Idol is a tradeoff I’m willing to make in order to do the other things I enjoy. Yes, I'm tired a lot - but under the circumstances, that's the way things have to be. And if my dentist, or the New York Times, or CNN (or God forbid, Perez Hilton) don’t approve, I can’t honestly say that it makes no difference to me.

Actually, the whole concept of exhaustion dovetails kind of nicely into my Diablo preview - which I hope to post here Thursday. But now if you’ll excuse me, I’m headed off to bed. I'm due on the trail at 5:30 tomorrow morning.

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Garzas Creek: Listening Post

(click to play)

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Strawberry Runners Forever

A few random notes before we get to today’s post …

* Has anyone else noticed that Panic At the Disco got rid of their exclamation point? They used to be called Panic! At the Disco, but with the release of their new album, the exclamation point has vanished. It’s like Elaine Benes became their agent or something (an old Seinfeld joke, sorry … ). I’d love to hear the thought process and/or discussion that accompanied the change – I imagine it was considered as seriously as when Federal Express changed its official name to FedEx. There must be a reason - and now I’m intrigued. And I’ve spent way more time than I care to admit wondering about this.

* Also, I swam nearly 40 yards underwater yesterday: a full lap, a push off the wall, and almost 6 lanes (out of 8) across the opposite direction. You’ve probably forgotten this post, but the 50-yard thing is still a goal of mine – one that I’m inching closer to with each passing week.

* Finally, because some people have asked: I’m not saying another word about a certain athletic tournament that concludes this weekend. I showed my cards a few weeks ago – and now I’m going to leave well enough alone.

That’s it – the random stuff is short and sweet today. As for the post … not so much.

*

I’ve frequently mentioned my strawberry passion in this blog – and with strawberry season upon us again, it was fairly easy for me to combine that topic with a snapshot from the Big Sur Marathon to create a Monterey Herald article.

If you were a reader of my blog a couple years back, parts of this piece might sound vaguely familiar, but I reworded most of it in a more general fashion to appeal to anyone preparing to run Big Sur. Because - just to remind you – this year, I’m not a participant, but merely a neutral observer of this fantastic race.

The article is also an olive branch of sorts, extended to our local agricultural industry (a VERY heavy hitter in the Salinas Valley), many of whom were angered by this article I published last summer describing some of the conditions field workers encounter on a daily basis. Hopefully they’ll remove me from their most wanted list, and take my mug shot down from my favorite produce stands, so I can buy strawberries with a clear conscience again.

**

Running Life 3/30/08 “Strawberry Runners Forever”

It’s springtime in Monterey County, which means one thing for local runners: an abundance of fresh strawberries.

OK, that’s not entirely true – it also means warmer temperatures, extended daylight hours, and making final preparations for the Big Sur Marathon in April. But runners also have plenty of reasons to celebrate the local strawberry bounty.

Strawberries are one of most prominent crops of the Salinas Valley from April through September. They’re also a nutritional superfood for athletes, with many restorative benefits that help us with our training. And if that wasn’t enough, they play a starring role in the most beautiful marathon in North America.

Nutritional Benefits

Each serving of our local strawberries provides a full day’s supply of Vitamin C, and powerful antioxidant protection to help the body heal and repair. Strawberries are a rich source of phenols that help strengthen cell structures in the body and prevent cellular damage in all of the body's organ systems. Distance running typically causes chronic, microscopic damage to muscles, ligaments, and other soft tissue structures in the body; the antioxidants found in strawberries help to counteract this.

The phenol content of strawberries has also been shown to decrease the risk of heart disease and certain types of cancer – but the most remarkable medicinal quality is their role as an anti-inflammatory agent.

Healing properties of strawberries include the ability to lessen activity of an enzyme called cyclo-oxygenase. This enzyme is usually referred to as COX, and is responsible for causing inflammation and pain, especially in people who suffer from arthritis. Strawberry phenols naturally inhibit production of this enzyme.

If this sounds familiar, it should: most COX inhibitors are better known by their pharmaceutical name – non-steroidal anti-imflammatory drugs (NSAIDs) – or by brand names such as Advil or Motrin. So the next time you’re feeling sore after a hard workout, a tall, cold strawberry smoothie may be the perfect concoction to decrease soreness and help your muscles recover quickly. (Not to mention, they taste fantastic.)

Marathon Refreshment

It’s a fitting combination then, for Monterey County’s finest crop to team up with its finest road race – the Big Sur Marathon, on the last Sunday of April. The wonderful strawberries make a most welcome appearance at the most difficult point of the race.

Experienced Big Sur runners grow to dread one portion of the Marathon above all others: miles 21-24 through Carmel Highlands, where the road rises and falls mercilessly, and when runners are in their most fragile mental and physical state. It’s the stretch of road where enjoyable or successful marathons can quickly unravel.

There is, however, one outpost of comfort and relief during this daunting stretch of the race: the strawberry station at mile 23. A group of Highlands residents stand alongside race volunteers to hand out fresh strawberries to weary runners struggling towards the finish line.

Runners who know of the strawberry station speak of it in reverential tones, like travelers journeying towards a holy shrine. Those who don’t know the station is coming feel their hearts leap with joy and hope when they come across it. Afterwards many runners report that the strawberries were one of the most pleasant experiences of race day.

Of course, some marathoners feel too hurried to stop for the berries. They may be wary of eating something unfamiliar, or paranoid about losing precious seconds by slowing down to indulge. Or maybe they’re fearful that if they stopped, they might enjoy the moment so much that they’d decide to kick their feet up and stay a while.

Those runners are missing something truly special. Almost everyone who has stopped at the strawberry station considers it one of the highlights of his or her race. The thought of fresh berries in the distance helps keep them moving through the hardest miles of the race, and once they recharge their batteries with nature’s superfruit, they have more energy to conquer the final 5K.

Thankfully, runners who skip the aid station won’t completely miss out on the strawberry bounty at Big Sur – because one of the things awaiting them at the buffet table in the finisher’s tent is an enormous stack of strawberry crates. So in addition to bagels and water and energy bars, all runners leave the course with a full basket of Monterey County strawberries.

The strawberries are usually the first items I consume, and they never fail to be absolutely delicious. Maybe it’s the circumstances of complete exhaustion or post-race satisfaction, but those post-race strawberries are always among the best things I’ve ever tasted.

So this spring - whether you’re racing a marathon or not - be sure to incorporate this powerful little berry into your running routine. I’m certain that you’ll be happy with the results.

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My Kind of Business

I’ve never been crazy about business travel – but if there’s one place I ever have to visit, I’m glad that it’s Washington D.C.

People are sometimes surprised to hear that I pack my trail shoes whenever I visit our nation’s capital. And while it’s true that the most popular running soutes in the city are along the breezy banks of the Potomac, or amidst the stately monuments of the Mall, my tendency to be an “off the beaten path” type guy draws me to the quieter, more remote areas of town.

Most people come back from D.C. with pictures of the memorials and government buildings; I come back with pictures of dirt, rocks, and trees. That’s just the way I roll.

Furthermore, if you start in the right area of town, it’s quite easy to spend almost an entire run in the dirt – as the following pictures will attest.

Before we get to those however, I’ve neglected to mention the first run I took after reaching the city last week. Rainmaker was gracious enough to offer me a running tour from the District into northern Virginia. We covered almost 12 miles together, and I tacked another 4 on either side of meeting him to make it a solid 20 miles for the first night.

(No, I don’t have pictures of the meet-up, and I know what that means in the blogosphere. You’ll just have to take my word for it: it happened. And I was the mystery friend mentioned in this post of his. It’s circumstantial, but I can build a case around it.)

One other note about that first run: if you ever have the chance to run with Rainmaker, be sure to take him up on the offer. He’s a great host and very easy to talk with on the run. Just bring sure you bring your fast shoes with you – he’s become pretty speedy lately.

The second day was the 5-hour affair I described in the previous post, which left me one final day to take an easy recovery run – and to snap a few more pictures along the way.




The first 4 miles were the same as the day before – north on Rock Creek Parkway and into the park. There’s a dirt path that parallels the creek and roadway, so it’s fairly easy to avoid asphalt on this stretch.




Inside the park, a side trail navigates through a narrow canyon, heading up toward Connecticut Avenue. It’s hard to see the trail in this photo, but it’s fairly easy to follow on foot – as long as you’re willing to climb over some tree trunks and hop through some stream crossings.




After a mile or so, the trail emerges in one of those idyllic-looking D.C. neighborhoods north of Georgetown that I love running through, because the architecture is so different than anything I ever see on the West Coast. (There’s good reason for this, of course: brick crumbles like a house of cards in an earthquake. But it’s hard to match the aesthetics of homes like this.) This picture is from Upton Street, heading west.




It only takes 10 minutes and a couple of intersection crossings to reach another greenbelt trail that heads south toward the Potomac. Although there are buildings in close proximity on either side of this path, the surroundings make it easy to forget that they are there. However ...




The southern terminus of the trail is this tunnel under Canal Road, which is a somewhat jolting reminder that you’re actually in a big city.




Luckily, I got here before the sun had set too much – because going under tunnels like this at night often gives me a case of the yips. I’ve just heard too many bad stories, which I won’t disturb you with here.




The tunnel passage was uneventful, and here’s what awaits on the other side: the Potomac River and Key Bridge. The bridge crosses to the Virginia side, and is only a few minutes north of Roosevelt Island, if you haven’t had enough trails by now.




But on this night, I’m headed back to the hotel – which means following the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal back through Georgetown. If you’ll notice, it’s still a soft dirt surface.




The path finally gives way to brick at the end of the canal, which is less than 5 minutes away from my hotel. This run was about 10 miles long, and probably 90% of it was on dirt. Combined with the long runs of the previous two days, it gave me an approximate total of 60 miles for the three nights of my visit.

As I said before, I’ve never been crazy about business travel – but if you tell me that I’ll also have the opportunity to run 60 miles through beautiful scenery while I'm there, the prospect of being away from home becomes much more tolerable.

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Home Away From Home

Before today’s post, a couple of updates are warranted …

First, I need to ask for a continuance on the comic strip article I offered in response to this survey from a few weeks ago. I thought for sure that I could have it done by the end of the month, but a couple other topics muscled their way into my plans, and all of a sudden I’m looking at the final days of March. I will get to it soon, I promise … but maybe I’d better not give myself another deadline to potentially break.

Second, I mentioned that I’ve been shopping for a new camera, and last week I finally bought one. Just in time, too – because the freebie camera made by a toy company that I described in this post suddenly stopped working after the third or fourth time I used it. At least I got one post out of it – so I guess I got a little more than what I paid for.

Anyway, I got a Nikon Coolpix L11 – a solid 6 megapixel camera with all your basic features, that is compact enough to fit into the side pocket of my camel pack. It was released just a year ago, and it’s already two generations removed from the current 8MP model – which means that bargain shoppers like me can find one for under 100 bucks.

And with that, we’ll start the post …

**

When my new camera arrived, I thought it would be cool to bring it to Toro Park and take some photos to compare to the ones I took with the cheapie camera last month.

There was only one problem: Toro Park was 3,000 miles away. Instead, I took the camera here:

Rock Creek Park, District of Columbia. I spent most of the week here on business, and logged a lot of mileage in my off hours – so many, in fact, that I’ll probably make two posts out of the trip.

For today, I’ll give you a photo tour of Rock Creek Park, which I’ve come to think of as my home away from home over the past few years. So let me show you around …


I approach the park by running north on Rock Creek Parkway, a thin greenbelt that parallels the roadway all the way up from Pennsylvania Avenue. You don’t see as many cherry blossoms as you do around the mall, but the few that dot the creek banks really stand out.

Speaking of remarkable trees, take a look at this …


On windy days, there are quite a few of these trash trees lining the creek in various places. You know, everybody talks about the D.C. cherry blossoms, but these trash trees are just as distinctive. Yet for some reason, you never see them on postcards, or mentioned in tourist brochures. This city hosts a Cherry Blossom 10-Miler every year; I see no reason why it can’t have a Trash Tree 10K.

Also, on a similar note …


This is why you won’t be seeing a Rock Creek Triathlon anytime soon. Or - if you see one - this is why you shouldn’t enter it.

About 4 miles into the run, I reach Pierce Mill. Apparently it’s kind of historic. More importantly to me are two other details: 1) I know my way back to the hotel from here, and 2) it’s a landmark that most locals know about. This way, if I come across somebody when I’m lost in the forest, I can ask him to point me in the direction of Pierce Mill, and get oriented in the right direction. Yes, it’s happened a few times.


A small waterfall at the base of the mill. The fence in the background is Beach Street, which is the last patch of pavement to cross before entering the main portion of the park.


After crossing the street, it’s like entering a completely different world, where the sights and sounds of the city vanish into the trees. Once you’ve run a few minutes into the woods, it feels just like any other wilderness area. In fact …

Every now and then, you’ll encounter a few of these guys. These east coast deer always look odd to me with their long, fluffy white tails – by comparison, their California cousins have very short brown tails. Of course, when I tried to get a picture of this doe’s tail, she was more intent on smiling for the camera. I hate it when wildlife doesn’t cooperate.

Next it was my turn to smile for the camera. You’d laugh if I told you how proud of myself I was for figuring out how to use the self-timer on my new Nikon. I also surprised myself in capturing a picture where I didn't cut off my head or look like a complete goofball in fewer than 10 attempts. Not many fewer, but trust me – it’s an accomplishment.

For the most part, the trails run parallel to Rock Creek, which meanders to and from the road as you make your way on the east side of the park towards Maryland. There are several rustic bridge crossings in places where the water intersects with the roadway, with the trails ducking underneath the arches.

This doesn’t really make sense to me: there’s no apparent reason for this boardwalk to be situated in the middle of a flat, clear, dry area of the forest. I always wonder if a local Boy Scout troop built this as a project to earn a merit badge or something. At least they got the boards flat, so I guess that’s a good thing.

Further north, another wildlife encounter awaits:


The sign says it’s an amphibian breeding area - but don’t let those Beltway semantics fool you. This is nothing more than a frog brothel. It’s where the high-income New York frogs secretly come when they want a wild weekend away from the missus frog.

(By the way, will there be a statute of limitations on Eliot Spitzer jokes? I can see myself going to that well quite a few times in the future. It’s almost too easy.)

You may notice that I’m running out of daylight in these photos – and I didn’t plan ahead enough to bring any lights with me. So …


Once the trail gets too dark, the technical sections like this become pretty dangerous. Luckily, I’ve run through here enough times to know where many of the exit trails are, so I’ll cling to the dirt as long as possible until the lights go out, then make my way out to the road to finish the run.

On this night, I had a 5-hour run on the schedule, and I was able to enjoy about 3 and a half of them on the trails. The last 90 minutes were spent winding my way back towards Georgetown through the northeast part of the District. I was pretty exhausted, and everything was dark, so I didn’t pause to snap many pictures along the way. But here’s one place I was glad to see:

The lobby of the hotel that I had to walk through in my sweaty clothes and muddy shoes, more than 5 hours after I started the run. I hope I didn’t freak out the piano player too much on my way to the elevator.

With that, I was glad to call it a night. I did a couple more evening runs in D.C. that I’ll talk about next time – but since the Rock Creek route holds a singular place in my heart, it seemed only fitting to give it a singular post.

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Journey of 100 Miles

Admin note: In regards to the previous post, I’m going to place a sidebar link soon to keep attention focused on the meet-up event between now and the Big Sur Marathon at the end of April. In the meantime, go ahead and spread the word to anyone you think might be interested.

As for today’s post – it’s a long one, so let’s get straight to it …

**

Shortly after I was accepted in the Western States lottery last December, I received the following relatively innocuous e-mail from my editor: Let’s talk about you writing a training diary for the paper leading up to Western States.

My initial response was, yeah … right.

At first, I was quite reluctant to share this little quest of mine with the world at large, especially in the pages of our local newspaper. As much as I pondered that thought, I just couldn’t imagine how anyone would possibly care about it.

Newspapers are a lot different than blogs. People read the sports section to find out who made the Sweet Sixteen, to see how many strokes ahead of the field Tiger is, or to check the high school baseball standings. For the most part, they don’t care one bit about some idiot spending an obscene amount of time running around on local trails.

Remember – while all of this ultra talk seems normal within this little on-line endurance sports community – the other 99.9% of the population considers the events we describe absolutely crazy. And those are the people who read the local newspaper.

So I wasn’t exactly wild about the idea, but I can’t say that I really dug in my heels to resist. Then last month, my editor and I talked on the phone, and by the time we were finished, the training diary seemed like a fantastic idea (he’s a very encouraging guy). I can write as frequently as I feel like - probably every other week - on whatever topic or theme I’d like to discuss related to the race, with articles of whatever length feels comfortable (I know – I couldn’t believe it either).

Basically, he’s giving me a blank slate, with one exception: his only specific instructions were “Just don’t send me 1000 words on snot rockets.” I guess I can’t ask for a better situation than that.

And besides … it’s not like I wasn’t going to write down a ton of contemplations on this race over the next three months anyway. If my editor wants to transfer some of it to newsprint, I guess that’s OK by me.

However, I’m still caught up on the idea of making the articles somewhat interesting to everyday readers - the guy perusing game recaps over coffee and a doughnut, or the housewife flipping through the sports section on her way to the opinion pages. So that’s the challenge I’m putting out there for myself with this series – although I’m still not quite certain how to accomplish it.

For the time being, I’ve decided to simply start telling the story, and welcome anyone who would like to follow along with me. The first installment appears below.

**

Journey of 100 Miles: A Western States Training Diary

Part 1 – Introduction

Each year, on the last weekend in June, the world’s toughest endurance runners gather in the former Olympic Village of Squaw Valley, California.

Over the next 24 hours, they race each other on foot over 100 miles of the historic Western States trail, through some of the most rugged terrain of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. They climb more than 18,000 feet, and descend more than 23,000 feet while traversing deep canyons and high ridgelines on their way towards the finish line in Auburn. It is one of the most grueling physical and psychological challenges many of them will ever face.

And this year, I’ll be right there with them.

The Western States Endurance Run is the most prestigious race in the burgeoning sport of ultrarunning, which is defined as any footrace longer than the 26.2-mile marathon distance. Most ultramarathons are contested on trails instead of roads, and the most common distance is 50K (31 miles). However, the number of 100-mile races across the country has gradually increased over the past several years – and every one of these races owes its existence to the success of Western States.

If running 100 miles over unforgiving terrain through frequently ferocious weather conditions sounds crazy to you, rest assured that you’re not alone. In fact, the contest was originally designed not for people, but for horses.

Western States started out as a race called the Tevis Cup, which originated when a bunch of old-time California cowboys decided to compare the toughness of their horses to legendary steeds from the days of the Pony Express. Each horse and rider who covered the 100-mile trail in a single day and night were awarded a silver belt buckle to recognize their accomplishment.

For the first two decades of the Tevis Cup’s existence, the thought of anyone travelling the 100-mile trail on foot was inconceivable. Then in 1974, a 27-year-old cowboy by the name of Gordy Ainsleigh learned that his horse was suffering from foot problems and was too lame to attempt the ride.

Ainsleigh was a bit of a maverick – so instead of dropping out of the ride, he laced up his running shoes and lined up alongside nearly 200 horses to take on the trail singlehandedly. He not only finished the course, but did so faster than the 24-hour cutoff, thereby earning himself a silver buckle.

With Ainsleigh’s unfathomable effort, the 100-mile trail race was born. Today, there are no fewer than 60 such races across the United States. And while some races take place at higher altitudes, and others feature greater changes in elevation, Western States remains the crown jewel among this fanatical subset of endurance events.

Western States is unquestionably the biggest event of the year in the ultrarunning community. It’s like Augusta National (without the azaleas), Daytona (without the smell of motor fuel), and Wimbledon (without the strawberries and cream) all rolled into one. What’s more, it affords a select few “regular” runners - such as your author - to compete alongside the world’s best.

Regardless of their ability, all of the participants who meet in Squaw Valley each year realize that they are competing at the very pinnacle of the sport, following in the footsteps of legendary champions who have gone before, while sharing the course with modern-day heroes of ultrarunning. It’s an alluring combination of circumstances – to such a degree that the event struggles to manage the burden of its own popularity.

Each year, an increasing number of ultrarunners clamor to enter Western States – and each year, more and more are turned away. Because the race passes through protected wilderness areas, the US Forest Service limits the number of participants allowed on the trail on race weekend. And while rational folks would find it mind-boggling to hear that a 100-mile trail race actually has to turn people away, that’s exactly what happens with this event.

Consequently, Western States uses a lottery system to select applicants for the race. A portion of the slots are reserved, such as the top 10 male and female finishers from the previous year’s race, runners who have unsuccessfully applied for two straight years, and a handful of sponsored athletes who are given automatic entry. (Another automatic category called “pioneers” includes the now-legendary Gordy Ainsleigh, the man who started it all. Now in his sixties, he still lines up at the start line each year, and has finished the Western States course more than 20 times.)

In December, the lottery “winners” – seriously, that’s the word we use - are notified, and immediately spend the next six months preparing for the hardest day of running they will ever encounter. They do so with equal parts excitement and overwhelming fear, knowing the challenges that await them on race day.

A short list of potential dangers includes altitude sickness, treacherous snowpack in the high country, furnace-like temperatures in the lower canyons, waist deep river crossings, wildlife encounters (mountain lion and bear sightings are not uncommon), and ten or more hours of night running. That’s in addition to all of the medical complications that can derail a runner on race day, which contribute to a 30-40% annual dropout rate.

There’s no prize to speak of, as the race doesn’t award prize money. The highest honor one can earn is a silver belt buckle, awarded to any runner who completes the course in less than 24 hours, just as Gordy Ainsleigh did on the day he decided to race the horses. Otherwise, the only reward awaiting runners at the finish line is a firm handshake, a chair to finally rest upon, and the satisfaction of accomplishing a remarkable feat.

That’s not much inspiration to keep a guy running for 100 miles – so there must be something more that enables him (or her, as the case may be) to get through the most difficult stretches of the weekend. Something internal, something intangible … and something I hope to tap into over the next few months of training.

The what, when, and where of the Western States 100 are the easy parts. The why and how are harder questions to tackle. Between now and June, I’ll be looking for answers on the trails of Monterey County, during one long training run after another.

When I come across something noteworthy, I’ll be sure to let you know.

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Big Sur Marathon Meet-Up

So before we get to the main announcement, a quick question: are we all enjoying R.E.M.’s recent return to radio prominence?

I’ve never really been a diehard fan of theirs, but primarily for superficial reasons. When I was in college, it seemed like R.E.M. was absolutely everyone’s favorite band; you couldn’t go into a dorm room without seeing a poster, and couldn’t go to a party without hearing one of their CDs on the stereo (on that note - if you ever tell me you went to college in the early ‘90s, and claim you don’t know all the words to “The End of the World as We Know It”, I’ll know you’re a big fat liar. Two words: Leonard Bernstein!). So for some reason – probably a naïve sense of being counterculturally hip – I was always reluctant to embraced them like I did other bands.

But here’s the thing: even back then, and moving forward after college, almost every time I heard one of their songs, I’d think to myself, “Wow, these guys are awesome – why haven’t I listened to them more often?” When they released Monster during my grad school years, it became one of my favorite discs of that whole era, and I dutifully purchased most of their CDs from that point on. I guess what I’m saying is, I eventually came around.

That’s why it’s kind of nice to see them back in the spotlight (and why their new video is now playing on my sidebar). It’s a subtle reminder that some of the things I feel certain about today might change over a period of time - and that acquiring a different viewpoint isn’t nearly as terrible as I sometimes think it will be.

For example, I never thought I’d write a post about why I’m voluntarily skipping the Big Sur Marathon (See? It almost always comes back to running around here.) – but that’s exactly what’s happened. In other words, it’s the end of my marathon career as I know it … and I feel fine.

**

As to the event that I mentioned in the previous post, here it is in a nutshell: we need to have a blogger meet-up on the Monterey Peninsula during Big Sur Marathon weekend.

My suggestion is to have dinner at a local restaurant on Friday or Saturday before the race. We’ll enjoy some good food, swap stories, and I’ll be as generous with misguided advice about the marathon as anyone would like me to be. And we can finally attach some faces to blogs (and in some cases, to alter egos).

I know that readers frequently stumble across this blog when doing Big Sur Marathon searches, so let this serve as an open invitation: if you’d like to gather with a group who’ll be talking runner talk, feel free to join in. Even if you’re not doing the marathon, don’t feel too intimidated to stop by. And don’t worry about not knowing anybody – everyone else will be in the same boat.

(In fact, I’ll even invite any of you lurkers to show up and join us - and here’s how you can participate: find out what restaurant we’re dining in, then take a seat near enough to us so that you can hear all of our conversations, but not so close that anyone would notice you’re watching. Then as we walk out, look away and pretend you don’t even notice us. It’s just like our cyber-relationship, only up close and personal. It will be fun! )

I’ll pick a spot and make reservations for however many people would like to attend, and request special accommodations in advance if necessary (depending on how many people show up). I’m tentatively thinking of an Italian restaurant on Friday night, but I’m willing to change plans based on a general consensus.

However, I need feedback to gauge the interest level of others who plan on attending – so please contact me by a comment below (with an e-mail reply address), or use the e-mail address in my profile. In particular, let me know:

· If you plan on attending, and how many other people will be with you.
· Which night of the weekend (Friday or Saturday) you prefer.
· Any preference besides Italian food for dinner
· Any special accommodations (dietary restrictions, etc) you might need from the restaurant.

I’ll keep e-mail addresses and send out final decisions along with more specific instructions as race day gets closer. In the meantime, feel free to forward this post on to anyone who might be interested.

Finally, I’m happy to answer questions from anybody about the logistics of marathon weekend, or any other considerations in regards to traveling here for the race. It’s not an inconvenience – I just think of it as my little contribution to an event that has given me a lot of great memories.

Best wishes to everyone who is preparing for Big Sur, and I’ll look forward to hearing from you!

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