Thursday, November 28, 2013

Thanksgiving Prep

This is pretty much how it's been in my kitchen today.

Monday, November 25, 2013

SkiMo and finding my mojo

Wow, it's been a while since I've done a post. I suppose I've been feeling a little uninspired since the Wasatch 100 that wasn't. I was one of the many that failed to finish this year's run and while I could make many excuses it was my own fault. Something I learned from this year; if I'm going to put high expectations on myself then I also have to be able to deal with it when it doesn't work out. Which brings me to the reason for this post: SNOW and the MOUNTAINS! If you want to skip to what I'm about to write about got to: UTAHSKIMO.ORG

After Wasatch I took some time off before turning my attention to new mountain activity for me, SkiMo. I wrote about this last year after I jumped in the deep end and ended up having a great time. Now I have a little more experience and I want more of you to join me. I want to make it clear that I am in no way an authority on ski touring or SkiMo, I just have a blast participating in it and learning a wealth of information along the way. SkiMo is short for Ski Mountaineering and is basically a race on the snow, up a hill, back down, repeat often.

First you must choose your gear. Alpine touring gear is the current fast gear but you can use anything you want except full nordic gear (cross country, skate or classic) tele skis, or split boards were seen often last year. Next you need a little bit of fitness so that once you get up the hill you can ride back down.

Up until 2 years ago there was basically one race here in the Salt Lake valley that one could participate in if they were into moving fast across the snow. That race is the Wasatch Powder Keg, which has been around for many years and this year it will be the North American Championship race. In addition the Keg we have a full series of races that are set in a low key, affordable environment. Thanks to the enthusiasm of Chad and Emily Brackelsberg, Andy and Jason Dorais, Jared Inouye, as well as many other volunteers we have 8 races leading up to the Powder Keg in March. The Wasatch Citizen Series. What started as a few folks showing up on Tuesday evenings at Brighton, turned into steady turnout with 40 to 100 people showing up regularly last year. Why? Because it's fun, the people that show up are friendly (many you will recognize from trail running) and there's no pressure. Visit UTAHSKIMO.ORG to learn more.

What to expect:
The races are at Brighton ski resort, mostly in the evening starting at 7pm, ending at ~9pm, hang out at Molly Green's afterwards for prize drawings and getting know friendly folks.
Full avy gear is not necessary so don't worry about a pack (this is required for the Powder Keg though). Bring a headlamp even though we are often getting light from the night ski runs. You'll also need a helmet. I would suggest a bike helmet if you don't have a skimo specific helmet, a normal ski helmet will be way too hot. Many people bring a heavier jacket to the start/finish area and leave it there. Don't overdress, just like running you will generate a lot of heat going uphill. The courses are generally quite short, about 10 to 15 mins up, focusing on the transitions from up to down and back again. There are usually two categories, Race and Heavy Metal. Race is for light gear, Heavy Metal is for more mainstream touring gear. Go as fast or slow as you want nobody is keeping track and there are no results.

Last year the greatest benefit was all the new friends I made. Side benefits included gaining some fitness with an activity other than running and last but not least, faster transitions. Hope to see you out there.

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Ultra-running Foot Maintenance – Fish Exfoliation

Most of us have experienced it - feet damaged by the miles, the wet, and even sometimes an ill-fitting shoe. While we might be proud of the miles we can cover, the races we have finished, and the friendships hours on the trail have created – it has likely come at the expense of having beautiful feet.

Lest you despair and think that beautiful feet and ultra-running are incompatible, let me give you hope. I was recently in Northern Cambodia and heard rumors of fish that ate the dead skin off one’s feet. At first I thought it was just another crazy travelers tale, but upon hearing about “the fish that eat dead skin” from several sources I went in search. You see, I’m a seeker and I want beautiful feet!

We’ll I found the fish and gave it a try. $1.00 for 30 minutes. What did I have to loose other than perhaps my toes. When I dipped my feet into the tank they were swarmed by the small fish. The Cambodian owner of the fish said “You feet really dead. Fish like very much!” Nice, I’ve always wanted feet that were attractive to somebody, or in the absence of somebody, something….

A rather interesting experience… I could feel little bites on my feet as the fish nibbled away at the dead skin. I was glad they liked my feet, yet wondered if their gluttony was a deadly sin in the aquatic world. Would they be punished for the good they were doing to my feet?

Without giving too much thought to the fate of the gluttonous fish, I awoke the next morning to noticeably softer feet. Hmmm, I thought to myself – might there be a market for selling trail-running and foot fish exfoliation travel packages to Cambodia??

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

The Bear 100-2013 by Erik

"No, he can't have a ride!!  If he gets a ride or receives any help, he's disqualified!!"

I had just rolled my ankle and was lying face down in the dirt cursing the rocks, the rutted dirt road, the cold, my weak ankle, and the 30+ miles I still needed to run to finish the Bear 100. When I heard Greg yell these words at the hunters on 4-wheelers that kindly offered their help after witnessing my fall, I knew that there was no way I was dropping.  I'd have to break an arm or lose a limb to convince Greg that I was done.  The hunters drove off fairly bewildered, and Greg compassionately (but firmly) offered me a hand to get up and then informed me that we would walk the last mile to the Logan River Aid Station for my ankle to "swell up enough to stabilize", and then the break was over.

Typically, by the time I reach the finish line of the Wasatch 100, I'm done with running and training for the year.  I'm wiped out mentally and physically and look forward to some mellow days in the September woods.  This year, as soon as I finished Wasatch, I felt like somehow there was unfinished business to take care of, and started contemplating running the Bear.  When the opportunity came up to run, I took the bait and found myself at the start line just 3 weeks after finishing Wasatch.  My training in between was  pretty minimal.  I think I logged 50-60 miles in the interim, and I was optimistic as to how the day would unfold.

I started pretty slow, with runners streaming by on both sides as we made our way through the subdivision leading to the first of the single track.  I chuckled as the grade increased and commented to someone that if this was trail, we would be hiking instead of running.  With that thought, I slowed to a fast hike, and looked ahead to the next 99 miles.  It was overcast, in the 30's with a forecast of snow and rain showers until late afternoon and then clearing skies and temperatures dropping to the low 20's throughout the night.  It would be a perfect day in the September mountains!!

A great start to the day.

Logan Peak Aid Station

For the first 20 miles or so, I felt relatively good, although I could tell that my legs were lacking the "springiness" typically felt this early in a race.  Somewhere just after the Logan Peak aid station, I came to a 4 way intersection while running with a shirtless Kendrick ? from Colorado.  No shirt, snowing, in the 30's.  Seriously??  Anyway, the intersection wasn't marked at all.  Nothing.  We took what seemed to be the the best option, and after 5 minutes of no markers, found ourselves at the end of the road at the edge of a cliff.  Wrong way.  This could be a long day.  Maybe the infamous Bear course "marking" would be in effect today.  We met up with Robert Mueller, Seth Hales, Chuck Kanopa and a few others back at the intersection, they pointed us in the right direction, and luckily there were no questions whatsoever about the course for the next 85 miles.

Erik and Robert Mueller

Robert (Bob, Robbie) -who I had run quite a bit of Wasatch with 3 weeks ago-and I settled into a mellow pace heading down to Leatham Hollow and soon caught up to the talented Diana Finkel, who we we would play leap-frog with for the next 40 miles until just after Franklin Basin.  Leaving Leathan Hollow I ran a little with Drew Harrington who had made the trip down from Fairbanks, AK.

It was on this section that I realized it was really going to be a long 80 miles, and my day began to unravel a little bit mentally.  My hip flexors hurt, my left ankle was starting to get quite sore and irritated,and I felt some weird sort of neuroma/nerve pain on the bottom of my left big
toe that sent a little shock every time I pushed off of my toes.  Basically, my body wasn't too excited about being out for this long with another 75 miles to go.  I tried to take my mind somewhere else, enjoyed the absolutely spectacular scenery unfolding everywhere around me, and focused on getting to Tony Grove where Greg would be waiting to accompany me the 2nd half of the run.

Joe Campanelli leading the way to Cowley Canyon.

I ran with Justin Faul from Flagstaff, AZ for a bit after leaving Cowley Canyon and looking at our pace charts, realized that we were on a 20 hour pace, which before the race seemed to be a realistic goal, but given how I was feeling, now seemed akin to chasing rainbows and pink unicorns.

Cowley Canyon.  
The photo doesn't do the colors justice.

Leaving Temple Fork.
The long climb to Tony Grove ahead.

Catching up to Robert and Joe Campanelli (another Wasatch 100 finisher) we rolled into Temple Fork, and started up the long, muddy hike to Tony Grove.  Another beautiful section, with the beauty of the Crimson Maples detracting somewhat from the steep, slippery trails.  As soon as we topped out the climb and started the descent to Tony Grove, the temperature dropped, it started to snow and it got cold!!  I met Greg here, tried to get some warm soup and pumpkin chocolate chip bread in me and started the shivering hike towards the Franklin trailhead.  Man it was cold!!  It took a good 30 minutes for my fingers to warm up and for the shivering to stop.  Oddly enough, this would be the coldest I would get for the rest of the race, even though temperatures dropped significantly during the middle of the night.  Greg and I settled into a steady pace, and he did a great job of assessing how I was doing and keeping me moving.  Moving through the next few aid stations, along with Diana, Robert and a few others, we began to leapfrog with Georg Kunzfeld from Germany.  He was running his 3rd Bear and on a quest to get his first Wolverine (sub-24 hour) belt buckle. Georg would come into each aid station announcing that he was done, there was nothing left, and he couldn't eat or keep anything down.  Then after two minutes or so, would charge out like it was the start of the race.  At each aid station for the rest of the run, I would get there first, spend too much time drinking my hot chocolate and broth, Georg would arrive, make the same announcement and blast out of there before I left.  I got a kick out of it and it was a fun game to try and catch back up each time.

Gold and White after Tony Grove

Just enough snow to keep it interesting.

Somewhere between Franklin and Logan River and after the sun went down, we teamed up with Ford Smith, an amazing 17 year old from Texas who I met at the Squaw Peak 50 earlier this year.  Ford was on a quest to finish his first 100 miler and was doing an amazing job of it.  While most kids are staying up all night long on the weekend playing video games and engaging in other "wholesome" activities, Ford was displaying the tenacity and mental toughness of someone well beyond his years.  His stomach was starting to complain a little bit however, and I was hopeful he would be able to hold it together.  Just before Logan, I rolled my ankle (see above) and Greg and I found ourselves alone again.  I deep-sixed my negative thoughts and after the Logan River aid station, focused on maintaining a steady hike on the ups and a careful hobble on the descents.  I was surprised to find Robert, Georg, Ford and Chuck, plus a few others, all at the Beaver Mtn Aid station.  Apparently a steady hike can cover ground quickly.
Beaver Lodge

 I spent a few extra minutes in the warmth of the Aid station, made sure I had everything I needed for the last 25 miles, put on a jacket and took off my tights, and we were out of there.  It was here that I told Greg to go in front or behind me, whatever he felt would work best.  He took a lesson from when Jim Huffman paced me on this section in 2008 and took the lead, never really letting me catch up to him.  It was frustration at times, but effective in keeping me moving. I pulled out an old trick to help pass the time and keep my mind occupied.  There were four long climbs over the last 25 miles.  At the start of each climb I would start counting to 100 with each step of my right foot.  1000 steps was approximately 1 mile, so usually by the time I got to 3000 or 4000, I'd be at the top of the climb.  I didn't talk much to Greg during these climbs so I wouldn't lose count, but he was usually far enough ahead of me that it didn't matter, and it got me to the top of the climbs  relatively quickly. The descents were long and arduous.  I was very distrustful of my weak ankle at this point, and my legs were shot.  With that being said, I still managed to stay ahead of Georg and catch up to and pass someone else and their pacer.  I think it was Chuck Konopa.  More than anything during this section, I remember the long beautiful high mountain meadow we crossed after leaving the Beaver Creek Aid Station.  The sky was clearing with brilliant stars and a crescent moon playing hide and seek in the clouds.  The trail stretched out before us through a field of white snow and tufts of golden grass.  It was cold, with a stiff breeze playing in the tree tops, and it was one of those moments that will stand frozen in my mind.  100 mile races are run for many reasons, but in explaining to a friend tonight why run 100 rather than 25 or 50 miles, I understood that it is for moments like these, where the body and mind are so spent, so utterly depleted, that the moon is brighter, the air crisper, and the experience is seared into one's being. To quote Keith Knipling "In the process of completely exhausting myself, I connect with an inner part of me ordinarily veiled by the everyday distractions of life. During that short time spent on a trail in the mountains, my life is reduced to its simplest terms.....Going for a run always clears my head, but running 100 miles distills my soul."

As Greg and I finally came off the trail and onto the gravel road leading to the finish, Greg looked behind, saying "I'm not shi&;%ing you, but I see lights, and they're close."  I hadn't been concerned about racing for about 50 miles.  I had just been concerned with getting to the finish.  I had a vague concept of the idea of finishing under 24 hours, and that it was going to happen.  But I had no idea that there was a freight train of 6 runners only 10 minutes or less behind me, and that there were 3 runners 10 minutes or less ahead.  But now, with a light closing fast, I tried to switch gears and change my trot to a run. The stride lengthened slowly, the speed increased, I actually started to sweat and breathe hard, and still the light kept closing.  With less than 1/4 mile to go, as we turned off the gravel road and onto the highway, Georg caught up to me.  With a slap on my back, he told me in no uncertain terms that he would not pass me.  We would finish together. So, we trotted the last 1/4 mile, and finished.  Together. 23 hours 10 minutes.  Georg got his Wolverine.  A true competitor who gave it everything he had to the end, and showed true sportsmanship and the spirit of ultrarunning.  A lesson that will stick with me.

-Leland Barker and the Bear 100 organizers.  All the volunteers who braved the cold and bad weather to make sure that we runners, pacers and crew were well taken care of.
-Brooke, Sam, Andrew and Kate for putting up with another weekend of mountain wandering and the week of uselessness that I was, following said weekend.
-Wasatch Running Center and Gregory Packs for awesome gear and goods.
-Mom and Paul, Dad and Denise, Jack and Kathy and all others who have loved, encouraged, cheered on, shook their heads in bewilderment and so forth....
-God- for an incredible world and mountains to run in, and the most miraculous body to experience it with.

Sunday, September 22, 2013

2013 Wasatch 100- By Erik

I frequently hear runners prior to a 100 mile race comment that they are "ready to lay one down", "crush it", that they feel as prepared as they have ever felt, etc,.  Maybe this is their way of pumping themselves up, or of "psyching out" the competition, or maybe they truly feel that way.  

Me...... I don't think I've ever gone into a race with those feelings.  I typically feel under-prepared, under-trained, and wonder if I'll be able to make it through the next 100 miles and 24-36 hours.  Could be that I sub-consciously minimize my expectations, possibly I'm not a very confident person at heart, who knows?  All I know is that I was fairly apprehensive going into this year's Wasatch 100 Mile Endurance Run.  

Why? I'll try to keep it brief.  Last summer I suffered a strain to my left posterior tibialis tendon, and rather than stop running all together and let it heal, I merely reduced my running, and over the next few months ran less and did other stuff more.  It got to the point that in November I was in a boot for 3 weeks following fluid aspiration from the tendon sheath with a cortisone injection to the same area.  I was optimistic that I would return to full strength and took my recovery very slowly, starting with 5 minute walks on the treadmill.  By the time I ran the Squaw Peak 50 in July, I was feeling fairly fit and running about 90% pain free.  Unfortunately, Squaw Peak was not the recipe for continued recovery and while I ran well, by the end of the race I was hurting.  Stubbornly hoping that I could "run through it" without any changes other than daily icing and wearing compression socks almost 24/7, I continued running, and tackled the Uinta Highline trail in July with Peter, Ben and Jason.  We had a great time, but contrary to my plans, the foot hurt even more during recovery.  After wearing Altra's as my shoe of choice for the past 1 1/2 years, I decided that maybe I needed a little change in footwear for a bit.  I began wearing Hoka's every other day as a "recovery shoe" and lo and behold, my ankle started feeling slightly better. Following the theory that if it works, keep it up, I went for a BIG change and 3 weeks before Wasatch, started wearing the Hoka 100%.  I finally had to admit that, while I LOVE the Altra shoes, and they have done so much good for my running (no more black toe nails or blisters, good bye plantar fasciitis, better running form and economy) the current selection is not working for me right now.  One of Altra's basic premises is that the arch is a natural shock absorber. Unfortunately, I have no arch-I'm completely flat footed- it kept me out of the military- and over time this put an over abundance of stress and strain on the posterior tibialis. I started wearing the Hoka's with a Montrail Endro-sole, my foot felt better and better, and by the time of Race day, I was feeling more confident.  Don't get me wrong, the ankle still hurt, and I knew it would be a long day of hurting, but I was optimistic things would hold together.
OK, the prologue is over, now you know why I was hesitant about how Wasatch was going to pan out.  Plus, it was going to be HOT.  Oh, and it was 100 miles. That's a long way for things to go wrong, no matter how you feel or the number of times you've run that far.

Start Line with Rich McDonald
Photo: Barry Miller

My two goals going into the run were to slow down, especially through the first 20-30 miles, and then just run on how I feel.  Too often I get caught up too early with "racing".  This year I would run my race, not worry at all about who was in front or behind me, and see where that put me at Soldier Hollow.

The race started out just like that.  I enjoyed spending time running with good friends, and meeting a few new ones.  I stuck to my plan and ran a more conservative pace than normal, arriving at Francis Peak at 8:40, right on schedule, 15-20 minutes behind "normal" times.  By this time, I had separated from any other runners, and besides pacers, this is largely how the next 80 miles would be run, solo.  However, until Lambs Canyon, I played some leapfrog with speedy Robert Mueller, who had an outstanding finish after spending some time at the Lambs Canyon aid station recuperating from the heat.  I felt really good all the way to Big Mountain, with my only "incident" being a full water bottle that dropped and cracked halfway to Ant Knolls.  Not a great time to be stuck with 5 oz of salvaged water and 45 minutes of heat to get through, but I made it to Ant Knolls, savored a popsicle, and left with extra water to get to Big Mtn.  
Down to Big Mtn.
Photo: Derrick Lytle

Kate-cheering me up as only she knows how!!
Photo: Brooke Storheim

At Big Mtn, I was met by my incredibly supportive, patient and #1 fan Brooke, who brought along a fan club.  A kiss from Kate, an ice-filled handkerchief around my neck, and a kick in the butt from Brooke, and I was out of there with my first pacer, Kendall.  My only goal from here to Lambs Canyon was to survive. I didn't care if I got passed or passed anyone else.  I had 70 oz of water on my back in my Gregory Tempo 3 pack, 20 oz of GuBrew in a handheld, and my thoughts were to empty them by the time I got to Alexander Ridge, then repeat to Lambs and arrive in good shape.  Kendall was the perfect companion through this section, telling me fabulous hunting stories of the big bull elk that got away a couple days before, and adventures such as hiking with skis on his pack from Death Valley to the top of some 11,000 ft mountain in the Sierra's and then spending an extra day bivying while cliffed out on the way back down.  A great companion, the time went quickly, and thanks to the ice on my neck and the slight breeze, I never really felt the heat.  Somewhere through here we linked up with Robert Mueller again and we made a nice train heading into Lambs. 
Photo: Joe Azze

I spent a few minutes at Lambs making sure everything was feeling good, changed packs to my Gregory Tempo 5 with Black Diamond z-poles stashed in the back pocket and with another kiss from Kate, a full reservoir, and Brooke's caring but firm instructions to get out of there, I left Lamb's in the good company of my good buddy, and younger brother, Matt. Again, I wasn't in any particular rush to run the Lamb's road, I just wanted to make sure I kept a steady pace, and make it to Millcreek feeling good and ready to start to push it just a little bit.  Matt updated me on his kids football games that morning, assessed my overall condition, and then I took a sip from my bottle of GuBrew.  Pphhhwttttthh.  It went spewing from my mouth.  Disgusting!!!  I took a sip of water from my reservoir.  Blecchhh-just as bad.  Everything I had filled up with from Lambs was bad.  It had a horrible chemical taste to it and I could only think that whatever container it was stored in had some kind of residue in it that tainted the water.  I was in a pickle.  Luckily Matt had a bottle with his own concoction in it that I was able to drink, but 20 oz wasn't really going to get me to Big Water in good shape.  We still had cell reception so Matt called his wife and asked her to meet us at Elbow Fork with fresh water. I figured I could make it that far on 20 oz.  We made it up and over Bare Ass Pass to Elbow Fork in fine form, and I even started sipping from my tainted water with no more ill effect than a disgusting taste in my mouth.  At the Elbow, I re-filled my reservoir with fresh water (if this is receiving aid outside of an aid station I guess I'm dis-qualified) said good bye to Matt and hiked off up the road.  
Erik and Matt at Lambs Canyon
Photo: Brooke Storheim

I trotted some, power hiked even more, and arrived at Big Water feeling really good and ready to join up with my good friend and neighbor Jesse Harding.  I think there were one or two other runners in the aid station when I got there, but they quickly left and I don't remember who they were.  

Jesse and I had a great time over the next 13 miles.  While climbing up to Dog Lake, we noticed a weird mist filling the canyons below and by the time we got to Desolation Lake it had dropped 15 degrees and it dawned on us that we were smelling the lovely sulfurness of the Great Salt Lake.  How weird was that?  The only downer to this phenomenon was that it obscured the beautiful sunset from Red Lovers Ridge I was looking forward to seeing, and that it got dark 5-10 minutes earlier, preventing us from making our goal of getting to Scott's Pass without headlamps.  
Hazy Desolation Lake Aid Station
Photo: Jesse Harding

Up Red Lovers
Photo: Jesse Harding

Looking for a Sunset. Sulfury haze in the distance.
Photo: Jesse Harding

The 5 miles or so to Brighton went quickly and while I didn't necessarily feel perky, I didn't feel trashed either, and felt like I would be able to make some good time over the last 25 miles.  I felt like a celebrity as a good 20-30 people were waiting when Jesse and I made it to The Great Western House, Jay's property at Brighton that he generously made available to friends and family to wait for their runners.  I tried to quickly brush my teeth, change into a dry shirt, and top off my supplies to get moving again.  Brooke told me that Peter was about 25 minutes behind me and Jared was only a few minutes back.  I remember telling her that it didn't matter how far back Peter was, he would catch me somewhere between Forest Lake and the Dive and the Plunge.  Little did I know....

I was in and out of the Brighton Lodge at about 9:30, with my neighbor and good friend Pete Stevenson ready to help me through the next 25 miles.  This was Pete's first experience with Wasatch and I was looking forward to him getting a first hand glimpse of the fun the last 25 miles dishes out.  
Ready to have some fun with Pete!!
Photo: Brooke

As usual, the climb to Catherine's Pass was long, and I struggled getting into a good rhythm. My stomach felt a little rumbly and rather than fight the queasies like I'm prone to do, I decided to embrace it and initiate Peter into a true late night climb with a stomach emptying.  He observed in silence, and I chuckled silently to myself.  I could see lights catching up to me as we climbed up towards Catherine's Pass and I knew that it had to be Jared. If he caught me on this first climb, than it would be hard to hold him off.  I gave it all I had, dropped towards Ant Knolls and the lights got farther away.  This was our game for the next little while.  He would get closer on any little climb and I would put a little distance on the descent.  I started subsisting on my usual late night/end of race caloric intake of a cup of broth, a cup of hot chocolate and a cup of coke at each aid station.  It's what my stomach handles, and it seems to work  The only downside is that I end up spending more time than I should at aid stations.  Peter was super positive through this whole experience, continually reminding me to look at the stars, enjoy the night air, live in the moment. Even though I spent most of the time in silence, not having the mental energy to start or carry a conversation, it was great to have Peter along for the ride and feed off his enthusiasm.  Just after leaving Pole Line Aid Station, my stomach rebelled again, and I bent over to make an offering to the trail gods. Unfortunately, the Coke, Hot Chocolate and broth had mostly cleared my stomach and there wasn't much to leave on the trail, just a lot of noise to alert Jared that I wasn't too far ahead.  Sure enough, as we started our way around Forest Lake, Jared came bouncing by in his good natured way, and then a few minutes later, Peter Lindgren popped out of nowhere right behind us.  I swear he had been stalking us with his headlamp off, but he denies it.  I tried to hang with Peter, and it was here that I arrived at an interesting observation.  My stomach had normalized, my energy and spirits were good, but I didn't have another gear to switch to to chase Peter with.  All summer, due to my irritated ankle (by the way it hurt for the first 75 miles, then everything went numb and nothing hurt.  Interesting how that happens, but it's almost universal for me when I run Wasatch), I hadn't been able to do much intense running.  No tempo runs, no intervals, just a bunch of long, moderate paced runs with LOTS of hiking.  So when it came time to chase, there was nothing to chase with, however, I felt fantastic keeping my same steady pace.  So I held to it, and as we made our way through the Dive and the Plunge and entered Irv's torture chamber, we came upon Jared, emptying his shoes of rocks and dust.  He thanked me profusely for lobbying to keep that wonderful section of the finish intact and then we parted ways.  I knew I had to make some time if I wanted to stay ahead of him with all the little climbs left. Arriving at Pot Bottom, I finally told Peter what I had been trying to calculate over and over as we ran.  Barring any un-forseen problems over the last 7 miles (turns out there were 8!), I might be able to PR if we could keep a good pace.  We ran as fast as I could with Peter's marathon training pulling me along.  Jared was in back, Peter somewhere up ahead, and more important was the time goal of 22:42 to beat.  After the climb to the Staton aid station and the long ATV road down, we were finally on the homestretch with 2.5 miles of pavement ahead of us and a 20 minute window.  I could see glimpses of Jared's light behind, but couldn't see Peter anywhere ahead on the big loop of pavement.  We ran what felt like a 6 minute pace which in reality was more like 9-10. Down the road, past the big barn, then up the road, time was running out. I could hear Brooke and my family cheering, we criss-crossed the meadow and then it was done.  A handshake from John Grobben sealed the deal and I could sit down.  22:40:43.  A PR by 2 minutes.
My #1 Fan. Thank you Brooke!!!
Photo: JoAnn Miner
While there were so many things throughout this day that could have gone wrong, for whatever reason, they didn't.  I ran a steady pace.  Never had any huge highs, but never had any lows either.  I stayed hydrated, stayed cool when I needed to, kept my head when water bottles broke and water was tainted. Had awesome pacers and company along the way.  Had the best support crew and fans along the way. Thank you Brooke, Sam, Andrew, Kate, Mom, Paul, Kathy, Jack, Dad, Denise, Kendall, Matt, Jesse, Peter, Ashley, Erin, Becky, Bryce, Pieper and everyone else that I know I forgot about along the way. 
Thanks to the best group of friends anyone could be lucky enough to train and spend time with. Christian, Greg, Jay, Kevin, Peter, Rich. Thank you to everyone else who intentionally or unintentionally imparted of their wisdom and advice, served to motivate and inspire, and who otherwise helped out in another great adventure.  Thank you to John Grobben and the Wasatch 100 Race committee.  Without your tireless commitment to making this race the best it could be, without listening to runners and spectators, without working closely with land-owners, federal and state land agencies, none of this "fun" would occur every year.
Thank you to the Wasatch Running CenterAltra shoes, and Gregory packs.
Thanks most of all, again, to Brooke, Sam, Andrew and Kate for putting up with and encouraging this strange, addictive behavior!!
With Peter at the Finish
Photo: Brooke

Saturday, September 14, 2013

Wasatch 2013, Peter's Race Report

2013 has been a tough year.  We have had some bad luck. My wife fractured her femur skiing.  When the pillar of the family has a broken leg, things tend to unravel.  We also chose some disruptions, like taking on a puppy (a lifelong dream of my daughter).   Being grounded with a puppy meant no summer travel, which translated into my taking no time off over the summer, not a day.  September 6th was my first vacation day of the summer, and it was going to be a good day! 

Photo by Derrick Lytle

Unlike most years, I had no pre-race nightmares.  Sure I was nervous about how the day would unfold, but I had done everything I could to prepare given the constraints I had on my training.  Besides I had the relatively fresh perspective of being “crew” and “pacer” following a serious injury for my wife.  100 miles is not that far, and it is after all just a race.  

I prepared well most of the summer, including an 85 mile run/hike of the Uinta Highline Trail, that was complete with an unforgiving beating of the feet and a prolonged high altitude headache as I tried to keep pace with Erik.  While none of my weekly mileages were anything heroic, I kept up about 50-75 miles a week with about 13,000 feet of vertical during my biggest weeks.  During my weeks of hospital rounding and weekend call I cut back to around 40 miles a week.  
Running Lab at TOSH, photo by Astrid Lindgren 

Early in the summer I took part in a running shoe study at TOSH, comparing running efficiency, economy and gait mechanics whilst barefoot, with a minimal shoe, and a traditional running shoe.  At the end of the study I sat down with Jim Walker, Director of Sports Science at TOSH, and talked about my gait mechanics and some training strategies.  I took home some pearls about upper body movement, stride angle, and gait with respect to running efficiency and economy, and a personalized speed work-out plan. Our short conversation prompted a few more speed/threshold work-outs than I would have otherwise done, though I never made it to the track for the true speed work-outs.  That was left for the backyard sprinting after a puppy and playing soccer.  Incidentally, 3 weeks before Wasatch I broke a rib playing soccer with a bunch of 11 year-olds.  Unfortunately, I had no one to complain to at home as my wife felt I deserved such an injury for deciding to horse around with the little ruffians.  

This was the first year that our entire MRC group was running the Wasatch, and partly because of that I chose not to have a pacer.  While we didn’t have specific plans to run together I did imagine that we would spend a little time together on the trail.  In the crowd at the start we found each other, and formed a nice congo line to travel the rolling first miles and the first climb.  The temperature was in the mid 80s at the start.  I felt like I was struggling to keep up with Jay, Kevin, Greg, Erik and Christian.  I dropped back and fell into another small group with a shirtless-due to the heat David Hayes on our climb towards Chinscaper.  Eventually, while keeping my effort level in check, I caught up to Greg, Erik, Kevin, and Jay before we hit the ridge.  Christian was a few minutes ahead of us.  After Grobben’s corner, mile 13ish, we ran together off and on to Francis Peak, mile 18, occasionally holding hands (seriously we held hands). Erik was a few minutes ahead and would steadily get further and further away.  While the pace seemed reasonable I was behind my previous year’s splits.  The group think, however, was that running slower was more reasonable than trying to keep pace with splits from much cooler years.  Ben Lewis stopped me at the start to say that these conditions would play right into my strategy of holding back and dealing with the diminished state of other runners late in the race. 

At some point before Bountiful B, mile 24, we caught up to Christian, and had the whole gang together minus Erik who was blazing ahead.  While I failed to notice it, Christian was already starting to have problems (he would eventually drop at Big Mountain).  By 10 AM the oven was heating up.  There was a pleasant breeze that made it feel comfortable, but I knew what was ahead in terms of weather and exposure.  Mindful of Tim Noake’s book, “Waterlogged” I took the simple strategy of drinking to thirst, careful not to take in too much.  While I wasn’t peeing very often, I figured I was staying well balanced with my sweat losses, and didn’t overdo my intake.  Between Sessions, mile 28, and Swallow Rocks, mile 35, I ran out of water.  This seemed like a bad day to miscalculate the amount of water in the pack between aid stations.  I dropped off the pace even more.  

The Swallow Rocks aid station was run by the Cottonwood Canyon Foundation. Last year’s Wasatch 100 runner up, Cottonwood Canyon Foundation Outreach Coordinator, and former soccer star, George Grygar, was there with plenty of ice and encouragement.   George noticed my “soccer legs”. Thinking of George, I responded that former soccer players make the best trail runners, which for the last 25 miles of Wasatch I think is true. 

Worried about making the mistake of running out of water again, I left with nearly 2 L of water in my reservoir to run just 4.5 miles to Big Mountain. I very nearly finished it before rolling into the Big Mountain aid station where Jessica, Astrid and Mats met me. It had been a stressful morning for them with a dead car battery adding to the urgency of getting to the aid station on time.  Even so, they focused on the task of getting me in and out.  In 3 minutes I had everything I would need to survive the oven that I was about to run through.  

My strategy, if you can call it that, was to go slow and use a bottle of ice water on my head along the hot exposed ridges.  It was fantastic... while it lasted.  Somewhere along the ridge I saw the “Wizard of the Wasatch,” Bob Athey, who snapped the photo below.  (If you haven’t looked at his website, do.  Bob captures the big and small beauty of the Wasatch mountains in his photographs.)
Photo by Robert Athey

Somewhere on the way to Alexander Ridge I was passed by a runner (Andy Johnson) who apparently was using my previous year’s splits as a guide.  His voice was strong as was his pace.  My response was thready and weak as was my pace. While I was flattered, it did little to boost my energy level as we climbed up hill.  He and Damian Stoy quickly left me in the dust.  My legs were starting to feel the miles, and I was wary of going any faster in the heat.  Mick Jurynec was resting off to side of the trail in some shade; he would later drop out.  In retrospect I feel quite bad that I didn’t stop, though I was not in any shape to be of help anyone else. 

By Alexander Ridge, mile 47, my quadriceps were feeling the effects of the downhill running.  The uncertainty of whether my legs would recover and being behind my anticipated splits was a stress, though I knew that I only had a few more miles in the heat before the temperature would drop to something more comfortable in the shade of Lambs Canyon.  On the last little climb before the descent to Lambs, Jared Campbell passed me with arm warmers on.  Jared is an inventive guy, and had stuffed them with ice to aid his cooling.  I wished to be as clever.  As he went by he commented that he was just trying to survive until Lambs Canyon.  Weren’t we all.  

Lambs Canyon came quickly enough, though the ability to see the aid station from a few miles away is always mentally challenging. At the aid station I weighed in a few (7) pounds down.  No big surprise.  Jessica, Astrid and Mats again surrounded me like a focused pit crew with a cold wet towel, watermelon, and supplies to get back on the road. Robert Mueller passed by and gave me a fist bump on his way out and encouraged me to catch him.   He spent 20 minutes in the aid station drinking fluids as his weight was down (7 or 8 pounds).   Interestingly, my weight was down a similar amount, but I was not held to hydrate, which I suspect would have hurt me more than help.  I caught up to Robert on the road going up Lambs.  His legs were great.  Mine were not.  My stomach was great, his was not.  I have to think that a fast intake of water, even an electrolyte solution when your body is trying to hold onto water, just leads to fluid retention and hyponatremia.  

In any case, Robert and I hiked together from Lambs to Millcreek.  We were frightened several times by cyclists flying down the Millcreek road. Once we hit the trail most all of the mountain bikers were exceptionally courteous in their passing, which I took as an indication of how beat at least I looked.  When we got to Dog Lake Robert offered me 10 dollars to have a drink from the lake.  At the time if I had the legs to move down to the lake and back up, he would’ve been 10 dollars poorer.  At the time I had nothing extra. My legs were heavy and plodding even on the descent to Blunder Fork.  As we climbed to Desolation Lake from Blunder Fork, I fell off the pace a few times, but kept Robert close.  I got to Red Lover’s Ridge at twilight a minute behind Robert, but was about to experience something of a rebirth.  There was a light rain, a slight chill, some downhill, and my quads were all of a sudden downright peppy.  Suddenly I was calculating how fast I would need to run to get to Brighton before 10 PM.  A sub 24-hour finish was starting to look possible again.  With this in mind I set off.  50 minutes from Desolation Lake to Scott’s Pass.  45 minutes from Scott’s to Brighton.  

John Pieper escorted me into the Brighton Lodge where Jessica, Astrid and Mats had just arrived to prep me for the last 25 miles.  Mats knew the moment we looked at each other that I was feeling good and was going to race hard to the finish.  Piep did the unenviable task of helping me change my socks and shoes.  The Hoka Bondi B’s were perfect for the first 75 miles.   A fresh pair of Drymax socks and a pair of Hoka Evo’s for the last 25 miles seemed downright luxurious.  It was the first time all day that I got to see my painted toenails (“My Own Private Jet” was the color applied, thanks to Sarah Polster).  Jay promised that I would be at least 20 minutes faster with painted toenails.  I figured that I could run the last 25 miles in 6 hours, which would get me close to last year’s time.  The 20 minute bonus from the toenails would help me set a personal best, though more than the toenails, I was carried out of the Brighton Lodge with the most amazing feeling as a parent and husband of having been sent off by my wife and two kids with their complete confidence and pride.  Now, I just had to get to Soldier Hollow on my own.  

The climb to Catherine’s Pass seemed altogether short.  Everything was holding together.  I was able to run short sections  of the uphill. While I didn’t know it at the time I was starting to close in on Mike Mason, Erik Storheim, and Jared Campbell.  Erik left Brighton 27 minutes ahead.  By Ant Knolls (mile 80) his lead was only 16 minutes.  The Ant Knolls aid station volunteers encouraged me to chase Mike and Jared.  In truth I wasn’t interested in chasing anyone, I just wanted to better my own time, though from years past I knew that if I was close to anyone before Rock Springs, I would catch them in the Dive or the Plunge.  

At Pole Line Pass (mile 83), I caught Mike Mason.  We left the aid station together, though I quickly left him and his pacer, so I could again run alone with the songs I had listened to earlier in the day still playing in my head.  My trance of trail dance was interrupted when I caught up to my dear friend and dentist, Erik.  I joked that I was so relieved to finally catch him after chasing him all day, as I had something caught in my tooth.  Erik’s stomach was like many others on the trail, in a state of mild revolt.  I figured as much, as there are only few things that can slow a guy like Erik.  This summer, I have been with him for a dislocated finger (which I reduced on the side of the trail), countless sprained ankles including a severe snapping injury with 9 miles of technical downhill running to go on our 85 mile Uinta excursion, and a damn good case of the “runs” all of which were minor issues that he powers through.  Erik and I stayed together to Point of Contention where I decided it was again time to run.  

The last nightlight that I would catch belonged to Jared Campbell, who was also having stomach issues.  Jared was filling a bottle at Rock Springs.  While I said hello and wished him well, I wasn’t certain that he heard me go by.  While my legs certainly could feel the 87 odd miles that I had run, there was a certain odd pleasure running down the perfectly retched technical downhills known as the “Dive” and the “Plunge”.  This was where my soccer legs would come into play, dashing around imaginary opponents trying to knock me off my feet.  At times there isn’t a trail as much as a groove in the hill with a lip on either side that narrows and widens in a frustrating way so that you end up hopping and skipping from side to side scrambling in loose rocks and dust.  Given that I had lobbied hard to keep this section of trail as part of the race, I was going to enjoy every little last bit of it as it might be the last time this section is run as part of the Wasatch 100.  Before I knew it I hit the turn for my final descent into Pot Bottom (mile 92).  I ran the last mile more conservatively than usual, as I didn’t want to blow up and allow someone to catch me over the last 8 miles.  

The Pot Bottom aid station volunteers were in disbelief when I arrived, as there were 3 runners they expected to see before me.  “You must be having a good race,” the woman checking me in said.  There were thoughts in my head about what to say, but I politely offered a quick “thanks,” grabbed a few pretzels and water and was off, knowing that I might need the time to keep my 7 minute lead on Erik.  I would hold this 7 minutes until Staton Cut-off (mile 95).  From there I was cautious, knowing that I had a sub-24 hour finish in the bag and didn’t want to blow up on the road.  The ATV trail finally gave way to a perfectly graded dirt road that turns into a paved road.  While a road isn’t the most aesthetic way to finish a mountain race, it does afford the ability to see a long way in front and behind for runners to catch and elude.  Unfortunately, there was no one to catch as Rod Bien had finished 34 minutes before me in third place.  Erik or Jared could have been closing the gap however, so I still needed to run.  Erik has always talked about running on stealth mode as he is chasing, so I wasn’t entirely sure I would see his light coming  Once I hit the road, I decided not to give him a target to chase, and turned my light off.  

I arrived at the finish line 5 hours and 41 minutes after leaving Brighton, 22 hours and 35 minutes after leaving East Mountain Wilderness Park (12th start and finish, 5th Crimson Cheetah), into the arms of the best crew a guy could ever ask for.  Five minutes later I greeted Erik at the finish line.  Not long after Erik, Jared came running in.  After a few short finish line conversations we made our way back to the Homestead for a bath, a few hours of sleep, and a dip in the pool before heading back to Salt Lake for Mats’s soccer game.  (Despite the lack of sleep he set up 3 of the 4 goals in his team’s 4-0 win.  I couldn’t have been more proud.)

While a few people at the finish were surprised to see me as the fourth overall finisher despite my fourth the previous year, Jessica, Astrid, and Mats were not.  They had a tough day, with unexpected obstacles and had struggled to overcome them.  Jessica has been and continues to be my model of toughness and endurance for many years.  This year after a complex femur fracture requiring internal fixation with a titanium rod, she took one lortab after coming home and not even an ibuprofen ever after that.  That is toughness.  It is impossible feel sorry for ones self or to complain about a little muscle pain encountered on a long run after watching her walk the day after fracture.  Instead I concentrated on feeling every little bit of discomfort, owning it, feeling alive, glad to able to run at 3 in the morning, knowing that this was only a fraction of what she endured.   As finishers of a hundred mile race, we get many cheers and pats on the back, but there are tough folks all around us who conquer life’s ups and downs, traumas and obstacles and rarely if ever get a cheering section, finisher’s plaque or belt buckle for their efforts.  The Wasatch race is a reminder to me every year to make sure to appreciate the amazing things that people do and are capable of doing every day, and to appreciate their supporting crews that make all of these endeavors possible.  Rarely is there a race report that doesn’t end with thanks and acknowledgement of the support that each of us has received along the way.  Truly, I wouldn’t have been able to get to the starting line without the help of many people (Fred Riemer literally gets me to the starting line each year for which I am truly grateful, and inspires me to appreciate the stars that I am running under).  With no pacers, crew was more important than ever.  Jessica, my wife, has been my foundation.  My two children inspire me.  My father has been an active sounding board all summer, as I have prepared for the race.  My mother is the endurance athlete that got me going and gave me the example of pushing limits with careful grace.  My step-father taught me to work.  The MRC has been the best training partners and friends, and are the reason I continue to run.    
Erik and me at the awards ceremony, photo Brooke Storheim.
While I am certainly not a sponsored runner, I do receive some product support.  John Pieper and Gregory have been incredibly generous in their support of designing,  producing, and supplying me with the best running packs for ultra running on the market.  Gregory painstakingly worked with our group of no-names (though Jay is a 100 mile age group world record holder) to design running packs that are the cream of the crop.  John Evans with Petzl has continued to generously supply me with headlamps (Petzl Nao) which made it possible to hop and skip (without falling once) through tough technical sections like it was the middle of the day.

Finally, I am indebted to the race committee for listening to us about keeping the Rock Springs to Pot Bottom section of the course.  Wasatch wouldn’t be Wasatch running down a paved road.  Sure the Dive, Plunge, and Irv’s Torture Chamber are tough, but aren’t these races supposed to be tough?  You guys put on a spectacular race yet again, with probably the best aid stations that I have experienced in my 12 runnings of Wasatch, making it an honor and privilege to run your race.  Until next year...

Pack: Gregory Tempo 3
Poles:  Black Diamond Ultra Distance Z Poles (Lambs to the finish)
Shoes: Hoka Bondi B and Hoka Stinson Evo
Headlamp: Petzl Nao

Saturday, August 24, 2013

The Remarkable Ambassador Gerda Verburg

One of the pleasures of ultra-running is the diversity of the community – people from all backgrounds, geographies, professions - each with their own special gifts. Yet, there is a thread that binds this diversity together – remarkableness. Does the sport foster and develop remarkable people? Or, is being remarkable the qualifier to engage in a sport that requites a high investment of time, commitment and perseverance. Regardless of the reason, I get great pleasure from the many amazing people that running brings into my life. One of the remarkable people I have met in Rome is Gerda Verburg, the Permanent Representative of the Netherlands to the Food and Agricultural Organization (FAO), World Food Programme (WFP) and International Fund for Agricultural Development (IFAD), three UN agencies based in Rome with expertise in agriculture, food assistance and rural development.
In her role as Ambassador, Gerda participates in the governance of these organizations and represents the interests of the Dutch government. Indirectly – she is my boss! 

Prior to this appointment, she was Minister of Agriculture, Nature and Food Quality in the Netherlands. Previous, she was a member of parliament for the Christian Democrats. Before entering politics, Gerda was both an entrepreneur and a trade union representative. Gerda’s athletic interests are as diverse as her professional accomplishments. She is an equestrian, cyclist, skater and runner. Prior to my first meeting with the Ambassador I was “briefed” that she was an avid cyclist and rode her bike to work (how cool and how Dutch). In an effort to impress her during our first meeting I decided to ride my bike to her office. The morning of the meeting I had a flat and was late to the meeting due to the time it took to for me to repair the flat (how lame and how American). It was after that first meeting that I learned that her real athletic talent is running and that she is consistently a top finisher in her age group (55+). In fact, Gerda won her age division in this year’s Rome Marathon in a time of 3:26:11. Definitely a “bad ass” performance given there were more than 14,000 runners! 

She has completed 15 marathons with her fastest time being 3:16:52 at “Dwars door Drenthe Marathon” in the Netherlands in 2006. Meet the remarkable Ambassador Verburg: 

Q – When did you first start running? And, what prompted you to start running competively?I started around 1985 because a friend of mine, who is an equestrian as well, started running and became very enthusiastic. We ran twice a week, 1,5 km out and 1,5 km back. In between we did some stretching and while running we talked about life, politics, sports and love. After each run we ate a banana – that was the beginning.
Soon after my friend told me about his positive experience running a marathon and I thought, “well, why not, let me give it a try.” So, my first marathon was in Amsterdam, 1990. My time - 4.04.36. One week later I knew, “I will do this again and…next time faster.”
Q – What is your most memorable race? The Two Oceans Marathon in South Africa. It’s an extraordinary marathon: 56 km - start and finish at Cape Town. The race begins at 6:00 am in the dark and follows the Indian Ocean to the south. Everywhere people singing, partying and yelling – at half past 6 in the morning! Then you cross Chapman’s Peak, a mountain, to reach the other Ocean, the Transatlantic Ocean. I was challenged to run this marathon by a South African colleague, Ruben Denge. Ruben was working with youngsters that left youth prison in Johannesburg offering them education and skills to find a job. At the same time the youngsters got guidance to find or develop their own way in life without falling back into crime. My trade union CNV supported this work and gave me the opportunity to travel to South Africa. Ruben told me about The Two Oceans Marathon and said, “I run this marathon every year and I challenge you to do the next as well.” For me it seemed impossible, to run a marathon, 42 km (26 miles) and then another 14 km. however, the idea settled itself somewhere in my brain and after a few months I invited my spouse to join me on a holiday trip to South Africa to run the Two Oceans Marathon. It is a well-organized race with an exciting course. Yet, the support of people is what is most memorable for me.
Q – What is a typical training week like for you? Number of kilometers run? Types of runs? Cross-training? My Internet coach sends me schemes. I inform him about my next objectives and he anticipates on the new goal. I like sports; so almost every day I do something. Not always for competition, but my favorite way to go to office or return to my house is on the bicycle or running. As an Ambassador I have a driver, but several times I send him to our Residence to bring my documents and stuff for the next morning so that I can run home after my work is done.
For a marathon a typical training week is: Sunday:  3-3,5 hours duration run. Monday: early morning to the bakery on the bicycle and back through the hills (10 km). Tuesday: 1.15 hours steady run. Wednesday: to the bakery…. Thursday: 1.15 interval training. Friday: on the bicycle to a party. Back home the bike in the trunk (because my spouse comes by car) Saturday: to the bakery…and 1.30 hours; fartlek. In general I prefer to run off road and I love hilly areas (both for running and cycling). My legs are built for uphill moving.       

Q – How do you manage to fulfill all of your duties as Ambassador and find time to train? Any secrets as to how you have been able to excel at both? I usually run in the morning before breakfast. I love the smell, the colour, and the view of early morning nature in each season of the year. During the first part of my run, my brain solves problems, the second part I think of new ideas, sometimes very original, funny or just practical. Back home from running I take a shower and prepare a good breakfast. I take 30 minutes for breakfast, with news on the radio and/or papers. Then I’m ready for the day, no matter how long or challenging the day might be.
I have 3 secrets to share;
  • I am used to run my marathons on pancakes with cinnamon and brown sugar, both for dinner the evening before as well as for breakfast early morning marathon day.
  • Running is just fun, not a must or a way to lose weight or something. I love parties with a good glass of wine or beer etc.
  • I love sleeping, but 5-6 hours per night is enough for me.

Q – How has your training changed as you have aged? What advice to you have for “older” runners who want to race competitively? 
Probably the biggest change is that I tend to stick more to my training schedule. When I was younger I had an eye on my scheme, but usually did more training than my scheme advised. I had good energy, I was almost never exhausted. Now I follow my scheme much more closely.  Some relaxing or reading a good book is also part of (mentally) preparing for a marathon.  

Q – What is next for you? What are you preparing for and what are your goals/aspirations? 
I don’t have a “next” yet. I just finished holidays on the bicycle. We went from the Netherlands through Belgium and Luxembourg (the Ardennes) to Provence, in South France, a distance of 1350 km in 9 days. Then we climbed the Mt. Ventoux by bicycle. First from the most difficult starting point: Bedoin. A few days later we did it as well from Sault, which is much easier. In between I climbed the Mt. Ventoux walking up and back (34 km) and this was really the most challenging part.
Back in Rome, while I survive the August and September heat I intend to start thinking about a new adventure. Running or biking or may be both. 

Q – Most readers are as passionate about their shoes as they are running? What are your current favorite racing shoes and why?I buy two pairs of shoes at the same time. Different brands. I ran the Maratona di Roma 2013 in Mizuno Wave Inspire and my other favorite shoes are Brooks Adrenaline ASR 10