Diablo 50M Race Report

“And if you hold on tight to what you think is your thing -
You may find you're missing all the rest ...

See you and me have a better time than most can dream of -
Have it better than the best, so can pull on through
Whatever tears at us, whatever holds us down,
And if nothing can be done, we'll make the best of what's around.”
- Dave Matthews Band, “Best of What’s Around” (video after post)

*
At some point, I’ll have to scale back on these endurance races.

Not because my body can’t handle them, but because they take too darn long to report on afterwards. It seems like the longer the event, the more I’m compelled to write – which results in ridiculously bloated posts like a 3000-word Wildflower recap, or a 3-act drama from last summer's Vineman.

That Vineman event took only 11 hours – but at Diablo last Saturday, I was on the course for almost 12 hours. So my challenge for this post is to keep the race report shorter, even though the event was longer. I can’t say that I’m optimistic, but we’ll just see how this goes.

As usual, there’s a backstory before we get to the actual race – which I’ll keep as brief as possible. If you’d rather skip straight to the race, just scroll down until you start seeing pictures. You won’t hurt my feelings. Otherwise, top off your drink and settle in for a long one.

My Diablo preview featured lyrics from Metallica’s “Frantic”, which described to some degree how I felt in the days leading up to the run. It also fit in nicely with my typical M.O. of listening to high-octane music in advance of major races.

Thankfully, it didn’t take me long to realize that this approach probably wasn’t the best mindset to have before an all-day event. So when I was combing through the CD drawer for some driving music, I reached past Metallica’s St. Anger, and grabbed the DMB’s Live at Red Rocks collection instead.

In concert, the Dave Matthews Band plays in whatever manner the spirit takes them. They establish familiar rhythms, then take off on whatever grooves feel comfortable, extending them far past their customary boundaries. Before you know it, a 4-minute single may evolve into a 15-minute jam that seems almost effortless. It was that kind of irreverence that I wanted to channel on Mount Diablo.

I knew going into the race that I needed a different psychological tactic than I usually employ. Normally, I hold on tight to what I think is my thing: my competitive drive, especially as it pertains to my race time and my relative standing overall. But I also knew that if I tried that at Diablo, I’d find that I was missing all the rest – all of the reasons I was doing the run in the first place, and all of the ways to find enjoyment in what some might consider difficult circumstances – as I’ll explain more once this report is all over.

So this time around, I was committed to try something unusual, but it still seemed more complicated than that. I didn’t want to give an all-out race effort, but I also didn’t want to disregard this as just a training day to get through on my way to Western States this summer. I wanted to appreciate this step of the journey for what it really was: the journey itself.

However, I didn’t quite trust myself to let those competitive instincts go, so I enforced one final rule: whenever I felt the urge to reel somebody in, make certain split times, or strain to keep up with somebody else’s pace, I had to stop and take a picture of something. It was the only way I could think of to force myself to slow down and savor the moment.

I took almost 100 pictures on race day.

Before you click away: no, I won’t make you sit through all of them – but I’m incorporating some of them to emphasize certain details of my Diablo experience. This is the type of photo essay I hope to assemble for Western States this summer – so just think of this as a tune-up race report for the big one 11 weeks from now.

Race directors Wendell and Sarah at the start of the race. One of Wendell’s first announcements on the bullhorn was, “This run requires some effort”, which might go down as one of the greatest understatements I’ve ever heard. But by this point, he probably wasn’t going to talk any of us out of it.

About 10 seconds into the race, the trail makes a very noticeable turn in the direction of "up". The hills don’t exactly sneak up on you on this course.

The first 8 miles are a nearly continuous climb to the summit, traversing a rocky ridgeline en route. It’s gorgeous, but there are a lot of bottlenecks as marathon runners and 50M runners are all crowded onto the same skinny trail.




For very long stretches of those first miles, here’s the view you enjoy: single-file runners in close proximity on narrow single-track surrounded by dense foliage. It’s definitely not the most scenic stretch of the race. It’s also in situations like this that you discover many ultrarunners have, um ... how should I say this politely? Some odor issues.




Finally, almost an hour into the race, the course hits some nice wide fire roads, which enables runners to spread out – and allows us all some breaths of fresh air again. We need all we can get, because we’re still climbing to the summit.




This is the main summit trail, which we would travel twice by the end of the day. I wasn’t certain what this white stuff all over the hillside was – but since this trail is called the Juniper Trail, and since Juniper Campground sits at the base of the climb, I took a wild guess that it must be some type of juniper.




Even after you reach the summit, your climbing isn’t finished, as the official course requires you to walk up the stairs to the observation deck. They don’t want the course to seem too easy, you know.




The trip up the steps is definitely worth it, though – because the views from the top are awesome.




Heading down from the summit is almost 5 miles of continuous descent, which sounds like it would be fun. And with the exception of the 4 miles of it that were so steep that I felt like my kneecaps were exploding, I would agree – it was a lot of fun. I also found a lot of pretty flowers to look at.

So I’m sitting at the side of the trail snapping pictures of some poppies, and guess who comes barreling down the hill past me? It’s Rick!


He and I ran in close proximity for the next 7 or 8 miles, which was kind of a good news/bad news thing for me. On the one hand, he’s a great guy, and I enjoyed talking and sharing the day with him as we rolled along. On the other, he and I usually finish very close to each other in the standings – and when he caught me this early in the race, I knew that I’d probably finish far behind him on this day.

I can’t honestly say that it bothered me ... but I did seem to be taking a TON of pictures during those miles with Rick.




We went through some very pretty areas in miles 15-20, some of which reminded me of Monterey County. By this time, it was mid-morning, and I could start to feel the heat of the day pressing down upon the open sections of trail.




Rick and I came into the next aid station (North Gate) together, where I was apparently having some salt issues. It was very shortly after this picture that I wished Rick well, and told him to have a great race ... and then I took about 10 more pictures.




I did a lot of walking to the Rock City aid station that marked the halfway point of the race, and got passed by a lot of people on the way. On the plus side, I got some beautiful shots of the scenery.

Leaving Rock City, the course consists of a 6-mile out and back (12.5 total), moderately rolling section of trail. I had snapped out of my funk by this point, but my mind started doing funny things. For example ...



Take a look at the peak in the distance here. We came over that hill to get here. And at mile 28, knowing that by the end of the day I still had to go up and over it another time, that hilltop just seemed incredibly far away. Even looking through the zoom lens of my Nikon didn’t make it appear any closer. Also ...



See those rocks? Do they kind of look like faces to you? And do those faces seem to be laughing? At mile 33, that’s exactly what I was seeing in the hillside.

Returning to Rock City at mile 37 was one of the highlights of my day, in that I got to meet 21st Century Mom for the first time. She had started her volunteer shift at the aid station, and was incredibly friendly and encouraging. She kept trying to convince me that I looked a lot better than I felt, but I didn’t quite believe her.



Immediately after this picture was taken, she and I turned to each other – almost simultaneously – and said the exact same thing: “It happened.” Bloggers are so weird sometimes.




Continuing away from Rock City started the second ascent of Mount Diablo. By this time, the heat was becoming a major factor, and the trail was almost completely exposed. But just as I was second-guessing my ability to stay focused all the way up, I saw this ...




A local Boy Scout troop was coming down the fire road after hiking to the Juniper Campground, which was a strangely reassuring sight for me. I mean ... none of those Scouts (or Scoutmasters, for that matter) looked like they’d ever be mistaken for ultrarunners. I figured that if they all made it up the hill, perhaps the climb wasn’t as demoralizing as I was making it out to be.




Eventually, I made it to the top again, and even talked some stranger into taking this picture – which actually turned out a lot cooler than I imagined. Sometimes you get lucky like that.




The remaining 8 miles were mostly downhill – but as I’ve explained, “downhill” doesn’t equate to “easy” on this course. Much of the trail was like this: narrow, slippery, technical, across rocky footing that started to chew my legs up after an hour or so. In fact ...




Less than 4 miles from the finish, my legs were hurting so bad that I had to sit down on this rock to let them recover somewhat. I was only here for a few minutes before another runner walked past me ... and I started snapping pictures like crazy.




Eventually, I got my legs back under me, and gradually made my way through the final miles. Once the footing became smoother, I started to feel strong again, and started catching up to the guy who had passed me – but not before I took a picture of this pretty tree for good measure.




I ultimately passed him, and several minutes later I cruised to the finish, feeling very smooth and strong as I crossed the line. In fact, it took me about 20 minutes to remember that I hadn’t taken a picture of the finish line yet (explaining the time discrepancy in the photo).

By this time, the sky was growing dark, the temperature was cooling down, and I honestly felt like I could have gone out and done some more mileage if I had to. I had paced the run well, and restrained myself to the point where I didn’t completely self-destruct from the force of my own effort.

In other words, I had done exactly what I set out to do.

Ultrarunners will tell you all day long that success in the sport is more dependent on mental willpower than physical stamina, and on some level, I’ve always understood this to be true. What I hadn’t really done until Diablo is put that notion into practice.

It’s easy to look at a rugged 50-mile run with 13,000 feet of climbing on the hottest day of the year and fixate on all of the negative elements. In fact, that’s probably what normal people do. But true ultrarunners have somehow – either by natural predisposition or by practiced reinforcement – instead learned to see the same scenario as the best of what’s around.

For the most part, being able to spend an entire day running around on a mountain is a better time than most can dream of. Especially considering that most of these challenges take place in the most beautiful locations in the world, it’s a privilege to merely participate. There are countless people who would love to have the time, determination, ability, and resources to do the same. Truthfully, we have it better than the best - and I think that’s precisely how we pull on through.

Whatever tears at us, whatever holds us down or batters our bodies or bruises our spirit – those are the things we actively seek, if for no other reason than because we hope to be fortunate enough to find them. And when that is our mindset, all those hours on the trail aren’t primarily about trying to tick away the miles as quickly as possible (although make no mistake, I'll always prefer to go faster. I may be Zen, but I'm not a masochist.) Rather, they are about simply enjoying each mile as it comes, and realizing that - as I wrote in the last post - each and every step of the journey is the journey.

It seems like such a simple lesson - it's too bad I had to wrestle the devil to learn it.

**
Dave Matthews Band, "Best of What's Around" (click to play):

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Diablo Summary

"Each step of the journey is the journey."
- Zen expression

I'm back from Diablo - one of the longest, hottest, hardest journeys I've taken in quite a long time.

I finished the course in 11 hours, 50 minutes, and felt pretty good about the day overall, accomplishing the goals I discussed in the previous post. More importantly, this race also signified a mental change of sorts for me, which I'm hopeful will carry me all the way through Western States later this summer.

On a related note, I recognize that it's a significant shift to go from the Metallica lyrics that introduced the previous post, to a Zen quote today. That was done for a reason - one that will hopefully make more sense when I post a full race report later this week.

For now, I'm off to play some board games with my kids, and to try catching up on some rest.

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Dancing With Diablo

“I've worn out always being afraid - an endless stream of fear that I've made -

Treading water full of worry - this frantic tick tick tock of hurry -

Do I have the strength to know how I'll go? Can I find it inside to deal with what I shouldn't know? …

Keep searching, keep on searching - this search goes on.”

- Metallica, “Frantic” (on sidebar)

*
When I signed up for the Diablo 50-Mile race at the beginning of the year, I knew it would be a good gauge of my preparations for Western States. The challenging course would test my hill training and allow me to practice various strategies (such as with hydration, gear and pacing) that I could later lock into place as the main event drew closer.

I also remember thinking that I’d have plenty of time to prepare before the race, because it was way off in the distance – like, not until springtime. And back in January, it was still the middle of winter. Plenty of time.

So, um … where did all of that time go?

For the most part, I’ve used the days wisely. Over the past several weeks, my weekly mileage has bounced between 55 and 75, with most weeks landing in the mid 60s. About 90% of that mileage has been on the rolling terrain of Monterey County, and a handful of runs have stretched out over several hours. I’m injury free, only slightly overweight, and generally happy with my progress to this point.

And yet, whenever race week comes along, my first instinct is to become somewhat frantic. No matter how much preparation I’ve done, it never feels like enough to make me confident about the task ahead. But I’ve worn out feeling afraid like that – so this year, during this particular buildup, I’ve decided to do something completely different.

Part of the anxiety I typically feel stems from my competitive nature - concern about how quickly I’ll finish, how many people will be ahead of me, and so on. My rational side – the one with the long-term plan of doing well at Western States – knows this is an insignificant worry, and that I should instead be focused on being in the moment, passing the time and miles as comfortably as possible.

Unfortunately, it takes a lot of effort to keep that competitive dog at bay. So this week, I’ve made a concerted effort to stifle that inner drive – mainly by running a lot of pre-race mileage.

I figure that if I go into Diablo feeling fresh and strong, I’ll be tempted to race against the field or the clock, and make myself miserable like I did at Firetrails last fall (see report on sidebar). So I’m purposely not tapering for the race, and maintaining very close to my normal mileage before heading to the start line – just think of it as a reverse taper.

By Friday morning, I’ll have logged 50 miles in the 6 days prior to the race. Hopefully, knowing that I’m starting a monstrous 50-miler at the end of a 100-mile week will be just the stimulus I need to tread cautiously on the hillsides of Mount Diablo. And even if my adrenaline somehow overrides my brain, my legs won’t be able to supply the horsepower.

So here are my two primary goals for Saturday: 1) start out conservatively and maintain a steady pace throughout the 50 miles, and 2) enjoy the day, without feeling like I need to hurry along as quickly as possible. I’d also like to say I’ll disregard the clock and my finishing place, but I realize that’s a fire I can’t completely extinguish – and that’s why I’m hoping the dead legs will keep it merely simmering on the back burner all day.

If nothing else, I’ll find out exactly what kind of strength I have at this point, and how to approach the remainder of the training season. Saturday’s race is simply the first checkpoint in a search that will go on for another 11 weeks, until I’m on the start line at Western States.

I anticipate that I’ll look back on this weekend’s strategy as either brilliant or moronic – but right now, I’m not positive which one it will turn out to be. Check back after the race, and I’ll be sure to let you know.

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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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