On Inspiration

(Admin note: I’ll have one final post on Thursday with a link to the WS webcast and other final details for this weekend. As for today’s post, it’s on the theme of motivation … )

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I’ve never been one to need much of a pep talk before races. When it comes to rising to the occasion for a big event, I tend to be fairly self-reliant.

From my experience - in both the endurance sports I currently enjoy, and the team sports of my youth – if you have to rely on a motivational speech to accomplish the result you’re looking for, your chances of actually attaining it are probably pretty slim. Rather, the confidence that emboldens me on the starting line comes from the body of training I’ve done in the months leading up to the event.

I’ve put myself through enough difficult miles, and tapped into my inner reservoir of resolve enough times this spring to know that I’m ready to roll at Western States this weekend. Whether or not I actually make it to the finish, or whether I finish anywhere near my goal time remain to be seen. But if for some reason I don’t make it to Auburn, it’s certainly not going to be for lack of resolve.

That’s not to say that it’s going to be easy – in fact, I’m on record describing the race as a 100-mile tightrope walk. Or, as I wrote last year:
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There are certain to be times when my body feels battered, my spirit feels broken, and I’ll question both the sanity and the necessity of doing the task I’ve given myself. Hard times are as much a part of the race as good ones – in fact, if those difficulties weren’t encountered along the way, the whole process wouldn’t mean nearly as much.

What I’m counting on to pull me through is a positive mindset, and a resolve to deal with whatever hardships come my way. There will be a thousand little things that could potentially discourage me – but somehow, I’ll figure out a way to get through every last one of them.
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Thankfully, after an extended period of questioning and wondering in the wake of 2008’s cancellation, I can honestly say that I’ve forged the same mindset now as I did before last year’s race.

So it was more amusing than inspirational when I stumbled across the following video of “40 inspirational speeches in two minutes” – it’s a clever assortment of film snippets that are equal parts somber and humorous, compiled into one contiguous speech that actually flows together surprisingly well. If you’re in the mood for an unorthodox pep talk, click and enjoy:


One final note: just because I don’t need an inspirational speech to keep me motivated, that doesn’t mean I don’t carry inspiring thoughts along the way with me during events like this. One of my favorites, which I have a feeling I’ll be reciting to myself many times on Saturday, is the following:

“Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
They will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”
- Isaiah 40:31, NIV

Really now … what more reassurance do I need?

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Book Review: Born to Run

One of the nice things about tapering is that decreasing your activity and increasing your rest for several days leaves you with time to catch up on some reading. It’s a great opportunity to get lost in a book that might quell some nervous energy, and perhaps take your mind off of the fact that very soon you’ll attempt to run 100 miles.

Of course, I had to go and pick up a book about ultrarunning.

The advance buzz for Christopher McDougall’s Born to Run was unlike any other running book since Dean Karnazes’ Ultramarathon Man, and the folklore surrounding the Tarahumara Indians of the Copper Canyons of Mexico is almost mystical in ultra circles – so I grabbed a copy of this book thinking that it would be one for the ages.

In most respects, I was correct. The first 100 pages or so read like the greatest running story ever told. There are vivid descriptions of the notorious Copper Canyons, a detailed primer on the Tarahumara culture, and a stirring account of the three years that the Tarahumara participated in (and dominated) the Leadville 100. It’s also something of a who’s who of the ultrarunning community, with in-depth biographies of Ann Trason and Scott Jurek, shout outs to “Young Guns” such as the Skaggs brothers and Anton Krupicka, and even a mention of a noteworthy blogger or two. If you make it through the first half of the book without itching to lace up your running shoes and disappear into the wilderness, someone might have to check you for a pulse.

The narrative revolves around one Anglo - nicknamed Caballo Blanco by the locals - who assimilated into the Tarahumara culture, and his desire to stage a 50-mile race in the Copper Canyons between the top ultrarunners of all time and the best Tarahumara runners. His efforts are largely futile, with one notable exception: Scott Jurek was all for it. Soon thereafter, a handful of Americans (including Jenn Shelton, one of the best young runners around) make their way south of the border, and the game is on.

For the most part, the account is a gripping one, culminating in a race that justifies the 250-page buildup to it. The primary drawback I found was that along the way to telling us about the race, McDougall takes several very looooong tangents to discuss all manner of things only peripherally related to the event at hand. Many of these detours crop up right as the action is getting good – in the middle of the Leadville reports, or right as the gun’s about to go off for the final race.

Granted, some of the tangents will change the way you perceive the simple activity of running: whether it’s understanding man’s anthropological origin as a species engineered to run just as often and efficiently as deer or coyotes, eliminating the modern-day distractions that hold our inner (and super-athletic) souls captive, or improving your speed by adopting a philosophy of love and acceptance (yes, really). There’s also an extended treatise about the evils of running shoes, with a very convincing argument that we should be asking for less from our running gear instead of more.

The side dissertations are very interesting (I’m actually quite intrigued by the notion of barefoot trail running), and McDougall is an excellent writer, so they are generally a smooth read – but the placement became a bit frustrating after a while. I finally decided to read this book in pieces: I tore through the narrative that built to the climactic race first, then backtracked and took my time with the biomechanics and anthropology lessons. This way, I satisfied my impatience with wanting to know how the race came out, but still absorbed the larger lessons that I would have otherwise hurried past.

One other minor quibble is that there aren't any pictures included. Most hardbacks will include a few glossy black and white pages with photos of the characters involved; this book doesn't, and it's a glaring omission. Although McDougall's writing is very descriptive, I found myself craving a real-life glimpse of Caballo Blanco, or the Tarahumara tribal robes, or even the Copper Canyon terrain that figures so prominently in the story.

All in all though, Born to Run is a very solid book. I anticipate that it's going to be one of those that carry well through the years; one you can read several times and still pull some new insight from each time. (Of all the running books I’ve read, there are perhaps two or three about which I’d claim that.) It will engage your spirit of adventure, compel you to push your physical boundaries, and – in the same way that the American runners are given Tarahumara monikers prior to the final race – it might even make you want to have a nickname (I’m thinking of Caballo Gordo for myself). If you’re looking to inspire your training or just searching for some smooth summer reading, put this book towards the top of your list.

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*update 8/21/09: Christopher McDougall was on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart recently; the interview is embedded below.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Christopher McDougall
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Healthcare Protests

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Subject D

(Admin note: the Western States 100 is practically here, which means that my nerves are so frazzled that I can barely think in coherent sentences, let alone string multiple paragraphs together for a respectable blog post. So this week will feature a few quick entries, with some final race details [including my bib number for the webcast] on Wednesday or Thursday before I head to the hills for the big show.

As for that noise you may be hearing in the background … that would be my heart pounding away like a sledgehammer. I’m trying not to let it distract me.)

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Most ultrarunners will tell you that our activity is an inherently self-centered one. We constantly steal time away from friends, families and jobs in pursuit of goals that are significant to only us; we spend countless hours chasing dreams of individual meaning and questionable importance to the larger world we inhabit.

That’s why many of us like to seize opportunities to share the experience, or to somehow help others benefit from this obsessive passion of ours. We volunteer at races, we invite pacers to participate in events with us, and we return the favors as pacers and/or crew for those who have served us.

And at the Western States 100, we subject ourselves to medical studies.

I’ve written before – quite extensively, in fact – about the symbiotic relationship between ultrarunners and medical researchers. Since much of my professional life has revolved around clinical healthcare, I’m especially sympathetic to the plight of desperate scientists in search of test subjects within a very narrow set of criteria.

That’s why I’m always willing to subject myself to whatever poking and prodding and body analysis that researchers want to inflict upon me. This weekend, I’ll be a participant in two studies: one looking at exercise-associated hyponatremia, and another examining the impacts of a 100-mile run on cardiac function. At various times on race weekend, I’ll give blood samples, have EKGs and a body composition scan, and possibly, um … pee in a Ziploc bag. Don’t ever say I’m not committed to science.

It actually feels kind of cool to participate in medical research during Western States weekend. It’s another small opportunity for all my years of compulsive quirkiness to actually provide some value to someone other than myself.

Besides, I long ago accepted the fact that – like most other ultrarunners - I’m something of a freak; however, if I’m a freak that contributes to the advancement of medical knowledge, that makes my condition feel a little more justified.

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Through a Child's Eyes

For the first time in the history of this website, I'm handing a post over to a guest blogger.

Technically, that statement may not be 100% accurate, since I'm still the one whose fingers are working the keyboard - but given the occasion of this weekend, I figured I'd turn to my 5-year-old daughter for some thoughts about Father's Day. The best part is, I didn't even have to ask her; her kindergarten teacher did the heavy lifting for me, resulting in a card that I received at the end of my daughter's school year last week.

The inside inscription reads:

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My daddy's name is Donald. Sometimes I call him funny names. He has brown hair. He just got a haircut. He's taller than Mom. He looks good. My daddy is nice and fun. He likes to run, to get the exercise. I don't know why. When I'm in school he misses me and I misses him. He makes me happy. I like best to play with him and be with him. When I'm in his arms it feels good and happy. He loves me because I'm special. I am special. Thanks daddy for everything you have done. He's the best daddy. I love him.

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If there's anyone out there who questions why having kids is the greatest experience in the world, what you read above is probably the best answer I can give. And if that still doesn't make sense ... I guess nothing else will.

Have a good weekend everybody. Remember to call your dad.

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Hydration 101

I know, I know … you thought I was finished talking about hydration packs.

One final stipulation of this whole hydration pack series was that I would incorporate some of the information into my Monterey Herald column, which often targets a different audience than this website does. The companies would benefit from the variety of public forums, and it was also an opportunity for me to do a little cross-promotion from the newspaper to the Internet.

It didn’t exactly play out the way I originally intended, however. When I approached my editor about doing a two-part, 2500-word piece on hydration, he (somewhat predictably) replied with something along the lines of “You’ve got to be kidding me.” The compromise we settled on was that I’d do a very basic, very general review of hydration devices for the paper, then refer readers to part 2 – my summary review of all the hydration packs – on the Herald site and my own websites.

So what you see below amounts to a prequel of sorts; it’s an introductory piece that explains the fundamentals of hydration for runners, and explains the difference between various means of transporting fluid. It appears in Thursday’s Monterey Herald.

Additionally, I’ve adapted this online version to include examples of each of the products I’m referring to, plus links to product pages for anyone interested in shopping. Most of the links are from Wilderness Running Company, with whom I’m starting to forge something of a working relationship. I’ve talked them up before, and I'm really impressed with some of the steps they’re taking to become involved in the trail running community.

If you decide to buy from them, remember to use the coupon code on my left sidebar to get a 10% discount on all orders. You also get free shipping on orders over $50, so you can potentially save a decent amount of money.

Sorry if I’m starting to sound like a QVC host; today’s Herald article is below.
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Running Life 6/18/09 "Hydration Pack Basics"

Summer is nearly upon us, which means that runners need to pay attention to hydration needs when exercising in warm weather. In recent years, hydration devices have become a multidisciplinary science, with several options available. We’re reviewing the most common types here, along with recommendations for use of each kind.

As a general rule, unless you’re exposed to extreme heat or humidity (upper 90s for either category), you probably don’t need to take in fluids during your workout if you’re exercising for 30 minutes or less. If you are exercising for less than an hour, you can probably do just fine with water instead of sports drink.

When your body is working for more than one hour, make sure that you drink small amounts of fluid on a regular basis during the activity. There are a few different ways to carry fluids on the go:

Hand held bottle carriers: of course, before hydration accessories were invented, everybody did it the old fashioned way: by carrying a bottle of water in your hand while you run. Hand-held bottle carriers are little more than a comfortable elastic strap that fits around the bottle and the back of your hand; this way, you don’t have to grip the bottle to keep it in contact with your palm.

Most hand-held carriers support a 20-oz bottle, and many have small pockets on the backside to stash things like keys or an ATM card. Some runners find it awkward to carry bottle holders at first, but before long you’ll hardly notice a difference.

(For web readers: some examples are the GoLite HydroClutch and the slightly more advanced Nathan QuickDraw Elite)

Waist packs: These are probably the most common option, and come in several varieties. Most packs hold a 20- or 24-oz bottle on your backside, often angled one way or the other for easier access. Waist packs also have larger pockets with storage space for cell phones or energy bars.

(Web readers: two very good models are the Ultimate Direction Uno and the GoLite HydroDash, which comes in both a men's and women's version.)

Variations on this design include packs that hold two full-size bottles, and others with several smaller bottles distributed all the way around your waist. In my opinion, the single bottle option is the simplest and most convenient, and should suffice for activity in the one to two hour range.

If you are running or hiking for more than two hours, a single bottle won’t be enough to sustain you – and that’s where the next category comes in.


Hydration packs: These lightweight packs are typically worn like a backpack, but contain a fluid reservoir that can hold up to 100oz of fluid. Models that are marketed towards runners typically hold about 70 oz.

Since they are designed for longer activity, hydration packs also feature a lot more storage space for food, clothing, or other gear. Modern materials and designs make these packs quite comfortable to wear, even when running at high speed.

Fluid reservoirs are slightly more high-maintenance than a typical water bottle - they’re a bit more difficult to clean and dry after each use – but they’re generally very easy to use, and the benefit of having adequate fluids during a long run is usually worth a little inconvenience afterwards.

Hand held bottle carriers and waist packs can be found in both of our local running stores. If you’d like more information about hydration packs, I did an extensive review of five different models this spring; check them out here.

Whichever method you choose, be sure to take care of your hydration needs so you can enjoy a healthy and safe summer of running.

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Misty Mornings

“Misty morning … don’t see no sun –
I know you’re out there somewhere, having fun.”
- Bob Marley and the Wailers, “Misty Morning” (video after post)
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There’s a guy in Carmel Valley who has run the Western States 100 several times; he’s a mutual acquaintance of just about every local ultrarunner, and something of a sensei when it comes to dispensing advice about the event.

I bring this up because last week, my pacer sent me an e-mail that essentially said, [Sensei] is concerned that you’re not getting enough heat training. Apparently they had been discussing my preparation in the midst of a trail run. It was a somewhat off-the-cuff remark that probably wouldn’t have fazed me – except that it happens to be completely true.

In fact, this isn’t the first time the subject has come up. Over the past several weeks, a handful of runners have asked me how much heat training I’ve done; the only variability in my response is how many seconds I pause before saying “none”.

I’ll never complain about the surroundings I live in, or the wonderful trails and open spaces for training that I have at my disposal. However, the primary drawback – at least as far as training for Western States is concerned - of living on the central California coast is the preponderance of fog and overcast skies that amass offshore before drifting down our local valleys almost every morning.

Here’s a typical scene from my Carmel Valley trails just after sunrise last week:


And here’s a shot from the Fort Ord trails that I wrote about in my previous post:

Keep in mind, these are color pictures – it’s the landscapes that come across in palettes of gray. Under any other circumstances, these areas are a trail runner’s Nirvana:

Rolling hills, miles of trails, the scent of strawberry fields in the air, and the beautiful Salinas Valley in the background. There’s only one thing missing: where’s the sunshine?

In June, the Salinas Valley sun is like a petulant teenager: very slow to rise, sometimes appearing for only a few hours before retiring again for the night, other times not bothering to make an appearance at all. Since I do most of my training in the early mornings, I’ve long since finished my run for the day by the time the fog burns off in the afternoon Consequently, I very seldom experience the hot conditions that will almost certainly come into play on the journey from Squaw Valley to Auburn.

It’s often said that the heat, even more than the mountains and the canyons, is the distinguishing characteristic of the Western States course. As far as my own training is concerned, it will be the biggest X-factor at this year’s race. Aside from the 12 hours I spent on Mt Diablo this April, I haven’t really faced the conditions that I’ll spend the better part of a day dealing with at the end of the month.

(I’ve also been a bit unlucky in this regard: the Quicksilver 50M didn’t heat up until late in the day; Western States camp saw cooler conditions than usual; my Tassajara run featured overcast skies instead of customary heat. And we haven’t had a real heat wave yet this year, which is unusual. I can plan the runs, but I can’t plan the forecast.)

I know that if I were truly dedicated, I could figure out some way to enhance my heat preparation. Some folks have told me to run with extra clothes on everyday, or drive around town with my car heater on full blast. Our sensei’s advice was to sit in a sauna for a couple of hours per day. Unfortunately, I haven’t brought myself to employ any of these strategies.

As a general rule, I like to push the boundaries of physical training as much as I possibly can, but avoid some of the detours that veer into the realm of the ridiculous. Running is a simple pleasure for me; I’m able to log a ton of training miles mainly because I enjoy the experience. The fewer extraneous details I have to tend to, the more content I feel.

So I’m not doing anything unconventional to better prepare myself – and I fully realize that such an approach could prove to be a liability at Western States. However, I’m considering this one of those situations where I’ll seek the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. I suppose the heat could be my undoing in two weeks – but if spending hours in a sauna or driving around with my heater on is the margin that determines success or failure, perhaps I’m not suited for this event after all.


It’s too late for me to change anything now – and even if I could, I don’t know if I would. I’d rather just appreciate my cool misty mornings, then roll the dice when I get to Western States.

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And to reinforce just how irie I'm feeling about this whole issue, here's some classic Bob Marley to click and enjoy:

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The Bullet Collector

During this year’s buildup to the Western States 100, I’ve been spending more hours and logging more miles than ever before in the Fort Ord Open Space.

The 7200 acres of public land feature countless (almost literally – some websites and maps put the number at 50, others as high as 85) miles on both fire roads and single track, over rolling terrain and long, grueling climbs, through dense vegetation and open plains. You can run for several hours there with minimal backtracking on any particular trail.

Fort Ord is also the local Mecca for mountain bikers – one of whom is my 10-year-old son. Over the past year, it’s become his favorite spot for our weekly ride, which in turn has become his favorite method of recreation. He can’t throw a spiral, hit a baseball, or sink a free throw – but put this kid on a saddle, and he can pedal up a 1000-ft climb like he’s cruising through the neighborhood park.

Although he does well now, my son was somewhat slow in warming to the idea of riding in Fort Ord on a regular basis. In fact, he might have given up the practice entirely if it weren’t for a couple of bullets.

Before it was an ultrarunner’s and mountain biker’s paradise, Fort Ord was an entirely different kind of training ground. For nearly 80 years, this landscape was used by the United States Army as a troop maneuvering area and field artillery range. Basically, it was a practice battleground for soldiers preparing for war; in its prime, almost 50,000 troops were stationed on the adjacent military base honing their skills for use on far more dangerous theaters that awaited them across the ocean.

In the years since the base closure in 1994, most of the Fort Ord land has been converted to public use trails, but remnants of its previous occupants are visible from nearly every fire road and hilltop. Abandoned foxholes remain protected by low fences; concrete bunkers defiantly resist exposure to the elements despite years of neglect; wooden posts stand lonely sentry from lookout towers.

There’s also leftover ammunition on the ground. A whole lot of it.

In fact, munitions cleanup is the biggest challenge facing the Bureau of Land Management, who are today’s caretakers of the open space. I mentioned that most of the land has been converted to public use; what I didn’t say is that the areas that remain off-limits still contain unexploded ordinances: potentially deadly stuff like trip wires and land mines and other things you definitely want to avoid.

So when you see a sign like this in Fort Ord, you should take it absolutely seriously.

Thankfully, most of the ammunition you come across is harmless – such as the bullets that my son collects. They’re littered on nearly every trail in Fort Ord – the public areas as well as the closed ones – left behind as a reminder of a time when the notion of exercise on these hills was taken quite seriously.


During one of our first bike rides here, my son spotted a couple of bullet casings, and slammed on the brakes so he could gather them up. He thought it was about the coolest thing ever. On every ride since, he keeps an eye out for more shells – and more often than not, he finds them. I generally don’t mind stopping with him, with one notable exception.

Fort Ord is also the site of a mountain bike race series, and this spring my son wanted to test himself against some other riders. Since he’s usually the youngest rider, and since he doesn’t know his way around the course very well, I get to ride the races alongside him.

He’s not the most competitive kid in the world – truthfully, he’s probably in the bottom 5% - so I have to lock up my inner racer whenever we do these events together, but I’m not always so good at it. So when he braked to a stop during his first-ever race in order to could pick up a bullet shell, let’s just say that I went, um … what’s a good word? … ballistic.

In the end, the Race Day Bullet Incident wasn’t that big of a deal. It certainly didn’t make any difference in his overall place or time, but it did prompt a nice discussion afterwards about the distinction between recreational riding, and stepping up to plunk down some money to put a number on your bike and race. By that time I had settled down, and I think the lesson went as well as I could have hoped for.

We’ve even worked out an understanding: during races, we don’t stop to pick up bullets anymore. But when we’re riding around Fort Ord for fun on our own time, he can stop for as many shells and casings as he wants to – just as long as can fit them in his own pockets.

I suppose if picking up a few pieces of ammo is all it takes to keep him coming out for these rides, I’m more than happy to oblige.

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