tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82337189498669965772024-02-18T23:40:10.622-07:00The MRCTales from the TrailsChristianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11862978104402477638noreply@blogger.comBlogger358125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-37825515650518682402017-12-30T14:33:00.000-07:002017-12-30T14:33:29.122-07:00Runting<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "calibri";">I hunt.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <span style="background: white;">Mostly big game like deer and elk, occasionally birds
and small game.</span> <span style="background: white;">I grew up
hunting, and since the hunting seasons were relatively short compared to the
rest of the year, I spent even more time dreaming of hunting.</span> <span style="background: white;">Hunting excursions with my dad and brothers were my
first exposure to the ridges, valleys and trails in the Wasatch and Uinta
Mountains. As I grew older and more independent, I found myself exploring more
and more of the terrain around Millcreek and Parleys Canyons, in search of the
perfect place to find that big buck deer or bull elk that I dreamt of.</span> <span style="background: white;">Every now and then, I would come across some one <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">RUNNING</i> the trails that I was struggling
to hike up.</span> <span style="background: white;">And while it
seemed crazy and beyond my abilities to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">run</i>
such ridiculous terrain, it was slightly intriguing.</span> <span style="background: white;">Fast forward a few years, and I had actually grown to
enjoy, and (gasp) even </span><i>crave </i><span style="background: white;">running.</span> <span style="background: white;">I ran a
marathon or two a year to stay in shape, and to give me a goal to focus on.</span> <span style="background: white;">Fast forward a couple more years, I was finished with
graduate school, had moved back to Salt Lake City to begin a career and raise a
family, and I was focused on hunting again, and running those trails I had
thought were un-runnable to stay in shape for hunting season. One September
afternoon in 2004, I pulled up to a trailhead I had been frequenting, to
bow-hunt for elk.</span> <span style="background: white;">Instead of
the usual 3-4 trucks parked there, it was overflowing with cars, tents, plastic
pink flamingos, spectators blowing horns and ringing cowbells, and runners.</span> <span style="background: white;">Lots of runners.</span> <span style="background: white;">Yes, it was the Big Mountain Aid Station for the
Wasatch 100 mile Endurance Run.</span> <span style="background: white;">Dressed
in camouflage, I joined the spectators for a while and watched the runners come
through the aid station.</span> <span style="background: white;">I
talked to crew, and pacers.</span> <span style="background: white;">I
watched the struggles some of the runners were already having just 40 miles
into the run.</span> <span style="background: white;">Some dropped
out, but most persevered.</span> <span style="background: white;">After
hunting along the Great Western Trail the rest of the afternoon and evening, I
woke up the next morning absolutely fascinated by what I had seen the day
before, and couldn’t get the thought of those runners, STILL running, out of my mind.</span> <span style="background: white;">So, I drove up to the Homestead Resort in Midway,
Utah, the Finish of the Wasatch 100, and I watched as these amazing, tenacious,
gritty and absolutely unbelievable runners of all shapes, age and size ran,
walked, and stumbled across the Finish Line.</span> <span style="background: white;">And I was hooked, I knew that the Wasatch 100 was
something I needed to do.</span> <span style="background: white;">The
following September, I was one of the lucky ones that were able to run, walk
and stumble my through the Wasatch Mountains and across the Finish Line at the
Homestead Resort.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "calibri";">What was to be a one and done type of event, has turned into
a huge part of my life, helping define who I am, what is important to me, and
how I spend a large portion of my recreational time.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <span style="background: white;">While hunting was still part of who I was and what I
identified with, instead of moving slowly through the woods, or sitting on a
ridge top with a pair of binoculars waiting to see what would step out of the
trees, I was seeing how efficiently I could move along those trails,</span> <span style="background: white;">and how fast I could get from ridge-top to ridge-top.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "calibri";">The past few years, however, as the seasons transition from
Summer to Fall, I have felt the cravings of moving stealthily through stands of
golden aspen, of smelling the rich musky odor of rutting bull elk, and
listening to those bulls screaming their challenge into the frosty September
air. The majority of my bow-hunts this year have been quick affairs before work
or over a lunch break, and I have needed my fitness to get from one spot to the
other as quickly and efficiently as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "calibri";">I’m still moving as fast as I can, but once I get to the
ridgeline or peak I am focused on, the game changes from speed to
patience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s proven to be a fun way to
combine my running and hunting passions, and I have started to call it
“Runting”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While my runting excursions
have not yet been successful from the perspective of harvesting a deer or elk
with my bow and arrow, they have been rewarding in beautiful sunrises and
sunsets, in close encounters with wildlife that are easy to run by if you’re
not paying attention, and in gaining an intimate connection with some of the
land and mountains I have “sped” through in years past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "calibri";">Whatever your preferred method of travel, or reason to spend
time outside, it’s good for the soul to change things up now and then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a wonderful Fall it’s been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Erikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475889996792094050noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-55901815815528881592017-08-14T12:31:00.001-06:002017-08-14T13:14:13.992-06:00Wasatch Farewell Tour – The Millwood 100<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqanL7_F4aE-USOvO5tgzukLELK6ergaFkhQVnJdioEQU1Qw3onfNCVt0SnrgKvCx_P9YRufCqi5EdoE_H4aQN9vYPjKG6s4uv75w3UF7AAh8KjXiY4q4VkPFk9kc5VvFFW2eF-hKZrLoU/s1600/Attach1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="901" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqanL7_F4aE-USOvO5tgzukLELK6ergaFkhQVnJdioEQU1Qw3onfNCVt0SnrgKvCx_P9YRufCqi5EdoE_H4aQN9vYPjKG6s4uv75w3UF7AAh8KjXiY4q4VkPFk9kc5VvFFW2eF-hKZrLoU/s400/Attach1.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finish - Photo Christian Johnson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The idea occurred on July 8<sup>th</sup>, somewhere near the
bottom of Beartrap Fork. Greg had asked me to join him for a section of his
Millwood 100 run (see report below). That afternoon we had sauntered together
to the top of Gobblers Knob, along the Desolation Trail to Big Water, along the
Great Western Trail and were now descending to the Big Cottonwood Canyon road.
It was fun and nostalgic being back on these trails that I know so well after
having lived abroad the past five years. I decided then that I would run the
Millwood 100 as a celebratory farewell run before moving to a new job in
Switzerland in September.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wanted my <a href="https://door5.com/2017/07/15/millwood-100-official-page/">Millwood 100</a> experience to be uncomplicated,
reflective, and challenging. I decided I would run alone, have minimal aid
stops and move fast enough that I could be showered and in bed before nightfall
on day two.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the month following Greg’s run I ran most of the route to
ensure that I had it seared in my memory. I focused on maximizing vertical,
averaging 30K+ climbing every week. I practiced with the ‘sticks’ knowing that
I would need a little extra help on some of the long climbs.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first part of my run was uneventful. I moved well up
Neffs in the dark after a 5:10 departure, realized on the climb to Grandeur
that I was carrying more food than I needed for the first 27 mile leg, got off
track as I always do on the descent to the Mount Aire saddle and made it to my
first replenishment stop at the Terraces having had a wonderful morning. Leg
two to big Cottonwood Canyon was also uneventful. The climb to Gobblers Knob as
usual was a bit of a chug at the end, I was reminded I am getting old as my
legs no longer have the quickness to move fast on technical trail such as the
rocky ridge down to Baker Pass, I chased a porcupine a good quarter of mile
along the Desolation Trail, received a “whoop and hurrah” from George Odell who
was mountain biking on the Great Western Trail before descending down BearTrap
to the Big Cottonwood Canyon road at 49 miles for aid stop #2.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was super pleased to have reached the BCC road by 6:30 and
set a goal of getting up Days Fork and back down Silver Fork before dark. On
the trail to Shadow Lake I had the first of many moose encounters with three
pairs of glowing eyes not sure what to make of my single glowing eye. At 10:30
I made it to Silver Lake where aid stop #3 would be at my house. I had
initially had some concerns that I would walk in the door and decide that 62
miles was enough and take a hot shower and go to bed. As I entered the garage
(I was under clear instructions to not bring my dirty body into the house)
Adrienne welcomed me with a cheese omelet, cold chocolate milk and clean socks.
I was out of the garage and back on the trail in less than 10 minutes. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fueled by the high fructose corn syrup in the chocolate milk
and the almost full moon rising from the east I made good time up to Twin Lakes
Pass. I found the Brighton Cirque trail to be challenging as my desire to move
fast across technical terrain exceeds the abilities of my failing eyesight and
balance. “Careful,” I kept telling myself. I made it down to Albion Basin by
12:30. On the climb up to Baldy I felt drops of rain. “How could that be?” I
asked myself. It had been a clear sky when I had left Brighton and I had opted
not to bring my rain jacket. Over the coming hours it would rain off and on –
leaving the trail slippery and me concerned about keeping warm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, I felt good and was moving
well. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I reached Cardiff Pass at 2:30 and had a “Houston we have a
problem” moment. I was ahead of my planned splits and I would have to cover the
section over Carbonate Pass in the dark. The traverse sans trail to the
Carbonate track (trail is not an accurate descriptor) was miserable. While only
a half-mile or so, I slipped (on the wet vegetation and rocks), dipped (crawled
under downed trees) and tripped (on the undergrowth and downed trees) my way to
the faint slash that leads to the pass. With the cloud-diffused light of my
headlamp I had trouble finding the obscure, yet generally with some effort
discernable track down the backside. The scree kept giving way underneath my
feet in slabs as I triggered mini scree slides. I finally made it to the pass
and began a long body slide down the old log slide to the road. I cursed Jared
as I slipped and tumbled down to the highway.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the bottom of the log slide I ducked, crawled and climbed
through the willows looking for the bridge across the creek. After a crawl
through a foot of standing water under some willows I said “F this” and made my
way for the creek. As I stepped into the creek my back foot got caught in a
willow and in I tumbled. Full immersion.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dragged myself out of the creek dripping wet and was
disappointed not to see Adrienne for what would be aid stop #4. It was 5:30 and
she was expecting to meet me here about 7:30. I suspected she was asleep with
no idea I was ahead of schedule. Quickly chilling, I realized waiting was not
an option and that the best choice was to continue and that when she woke up
and checked the Spot that she would see I was heading up Mineral Fork.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I ran down the road to the Mineral Fork TH watching the
reflection of drops of water fling off my poles and gloves I had a realization
– albeit a very basic internal reflection. There are hardcore trail runners
like Jared that thrive on hardship, difficulty and adversity. The more challenging
- the better. Then there are runners like me, I’ll call my group “pansy
runners” who are fulfilled and content running on buffed out single track with
no burrs stuck to the liners of our running shorts scratching our privates.
“Yes” I said to myself. “You are a pansy runner and that is OK.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was a bit ill prepared to head up Mineral Basin without
having met Adrienne. I was out of water and had only two bars. I knew I could
scrape by on nutrition, but would definitely need water. I made the bad choice
of not filling up a bottle in the creek at the beginning of the climb. After
several miles the only reasonably convenient choice was to take the iron (and
who knows what else) infused water coming from the Wasatch mine. Absent any
better choices, I filled up my bottle with the yellowish water. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
About then I realized that the batteries in the Spot were spent
and that this was probably the reason Adrienne had failed to meet me after
Kessler. I became worried that she was worried. I turned the Spot off and back
on hoping that perhaps it just needed to be reset, or perhaps the batteries
would have enough juice for another ping or two. I knew I’d be screwed if she
was waiting for me at the bottom of Kessler and not at the S-Curve (note – a
half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich pressing against the screen “on”
switch on my phone was the likely culprit in a dead phone battery when I
reached Brighton. I left my phone with Adrienne to be charged and returned to
me when I met her after Kessler. Thus, why I had no phone).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was excited to reach the Regulator Johnson mine feeling
great. The rain had passed, the sun was up, mountain goats were grazing on the
hills above me. The last real challenge to the run was getting over Regulator
Johnson pass and onto the trail down to Lake Blanche. As I inched myself forward
I found it useful to step in cadence to “lift your ass (step), over the pass
(step)” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was cautious on the run down from Lake Blanche to the
road. I have this real fear on trails with large rocks that I will catch a
foot, take a nasty tumble, and have to call Erik and ask him to see if he can
save my front teeth. I moved slowly and carefully. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I reached the parking area there was no Adrienne. Shit!
I went through the options. Proceed to the finish with no food (a sure
sufferfest and the likelihood that people would be worrying about me thinking I
was injured somewhere up on Carbonate Pass), call it quits (no way – I’d come too
far and was feeling too good), call Adrienne on her phone (obvious – but I
didn’t know her US number by memory), or bum a ride home to Brighton and see if
I could find her. I stopped the first hiker coming into the parking area and
asked if I could use her phone. I tried several possible numbers for Adrienne.
None of them were correct. I then asked if she could give me a lift to the
Mineral Basin TH to see if Adrienne was there. As we approached the Mineral
Basin TH I saw Adrienne’s car head down the canyon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a “game on” move my hiker driver made a u-turn and
started pursuing Adrienne down the canyon, tires screeching around the S-Curve.
As Adrienne pulled into the parking area the hiker driver pulled up right
behind Adrienne’s car effectively blocking her in and ensuring that aid stop #5
would be a reality (a big thanks to the lady who helped me – who btw has run
the Logan Peak Trail Run and had been to Lagoon the day before – TMI given I
don’t even know her name).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A quick change into dry shoes and socks and a replenishment
of water and food had me on my way up Mill B. The climb was uneventful, though
I could feel the effects of having been running for more than 24 hours, the sun
and the remnants of a mild bonk while climbing Mineral Basin. While I had
myself mentally prepared for the first section of the Desolation trail that has
a small climb, I lacked the motivation to run much of it. I made myself a
bargain that I could walk this section, if I promised to run hard after the
saddle to the finish.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That bargain was honored and I finished at 13:49 – a total
time of 31:39. Christian and Greg had snuck away from work to congratulate me
on the effort. Very kind and most appreciated.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A big thanks to Adrienne for help in crewing! Apologies for
the concern caused by dead batteries in the Spot and my phone. And thanks to
Betsy, Christian and Greg for compiling little pieces of evidence and arriving
at the conclusion that despite no Spot signal all was good and I was moving
along well. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Others have found the Millwood 100 to be “life changing” and
having significantly impacted them. For me, it was pleasurable and intimate
time spent with a good friend. I was content as I plodded along and daydreamed
for a day, a night, and a day. I never suffered. There was never any
uncertainty about finishing. I felt pride in my knowledge of and kinship with
the trails that comprise the route. I felt appreciative of good friends who I
run these trails with and for people like Jared who enable others to experience
the challenges, rewards and pleasures of the outdoors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt fortunate to have the health and
means to live the life I do! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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The Millwood 100 provided me with a perfect way to say
goodbye to the Wasatch - until such time that I am back.</div>
Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15533353909898449804noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-90896274584397616682017-07-16T17:40:00.000-06:002017-07-16T20:27:55.191-06:00Millwood 100 <div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS9wjZ-_R4Mff9nHOfqo93otWDiDpA1iaHbxhUyqvrZKDgEALJc51g9ttZoq8oj-KEZAeVWJ_nQI8MmQHwCVi-8qmyR0NyU3X3R68kbtljykwaaaGVsdLNVOQAmmHi3CGZnQammdt6Vze-/s1600/20170708_131538%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS9wjZ-_R4Mff9nHOfqo93otWDiDpA1iaHbxhUyqvrZKDgEALJc51g9ttZoq8oj-KEZAeVWJ_nQI8MmQHwCVi-8qmyR0NyU3X3R68kbtljykwaaaGVsdLNVOQAmmHi3CGZnQammdt6Vze-/s400/20170708_131538%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">George Odell and me Elbow Fork</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">George on the off trail section between Birch and Mt Aire Saddle</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jay Aldous and me Big Water</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivp6Ss6bAfbBD58T6Qpm-fquIHnfa18jZEtki4XraElG5hWQoMp2n8ABovG2sOQevMv0X2_31FkdvseQtBtE7FQONZoffWusBST986eIxhtrW1rnGa5oYHU0gp9xMzHmaA-jAAJEOOkywg/s1600/IMG_3440.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivp6Ss6bAfbBD58T6Qpm-fquIHnfa18jZEtki4XraElG5hWQoMp2n8ABovG2sOQevMv0X2_31FkdvseQtBtE7FQONZoffWusBST986eIxhtrW1rnGa5oYHU0gp9xMzHmaA-jAAJEOOkywg/s400/IMG_3440.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above Wolverine Cirque Picture Erik Storheim</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzbs9T8mV8J54LYH9-X5Wnl9j5BvoYFj16Ljoq-IMPjq6blM38P12uUZkZETv3-pcsnHRlkbhbOphCjsYrDYho74_hPXQuvBVrHw4O5urZpUVl1YSwvVcUXaMnU5rnUeSeQ75j8FLHepkH/s1600/FullSizeRender%252840%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzbs9T8mV8J54LYH9-X5Wnl9j5BvoYFj16Ljoq-IMPjq6blM38P12uUZkZETv3-pcsnHRlkbhbOphCjsYrDYho74_hPXQuvBVrHw4O5urZpUVl1YSwvVcUXaMnU5rnUeSeQ75j8FLHepkH/s400/FullSizeRender%252840%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing up to Mt Baldy Picture Erik Storheim</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheXPlLy6M2Zcomc_n_vAmxQBhoVS6FJ8_h643eb-wIHZYNy-2u_C7BtG6YTpYr2EJG73Us9Wy5OaO1fUBKjMB_59VaxV53SotwLH61CMm1g8E0Zk4A9UIJ87neFNF16ZK3YK2tAq_hJQAn/s1600/FullSizeRender%252841%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheXPlLy6M2Zcomc_n_vAmxQBhoVS6FJ8_h643eb-wIHZYNy-2u_C7BtG6YTpYr2EJG73Us9Wy5OaO1fUBKjMB_59VaxV53SotwLH61CMm1g8E0Zk4A9UIJ87neFNF16ZK3YK2tAq_hJQAn/s400/FullSizeRender%252841%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Resting on Carbonate Pass Picture Erik Storheim</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSL0nkLCwa_WDaMld4QLiKkV9vZhkAmeQpv9zfDaMkN4D6iz3LPrB8mt3Hkfr4HB5nwatWqse-UCnmpMUpkAYe9g1Y2TpaGut-3aq1UpLoJH5MKg08P6Ro_rbHre8XYqCTfwlUUnrSWD3W/s1600/IMG_0342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSL0nkLCwa_WDaMld4QLiKkV9vZhkAmeQpv9zfDaMkN4D6iz3LPrB8mt3Hkfr4HB5nwatWqse-UCnmpMUpkAYe9g1Y2TpaGut-3aq1UpLoJH5MKg08P6Ro_rbHre8XYqCTfwlUUnrSWD3W/s400/IMG_0342.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last climb up to Regulator Pass Picture Ben Lewis</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHYMOohV7KeNddcyYM1F8xCbdOKVVVe7eKCbpxQhjJTqedfSjxgrM5jp5kfVH9R7uQu6kE6sqM0PQluDv08v-ej2Ul5T4vxKjFwFiOFSS3LPMpDuJGLDsv2mW84AMGUFDgDQnYW7UdEyTN/s1600/IMG_0340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHYMOohV7KeNddcyYM1F8xCbdOKVVVe7eKCbpxQhjJTqedfSjxgrM5jp5kfVH9R7uQu6kE6sqM0PQluDv08v-ej2Ul5T4vxKjFwFiOFSS3LPMpDuJGLDsv2mW84AMGUFDgDQnYW7UdEyTN/s400/IMG_0340.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost to Ridge Picture Ben Lewis</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi314Hs2B02ZcRDSh8iWro4pmLTzYsUqu5_e0nK0552rUZb6WLiWYgOtF9jGzaGrrw1jdawGE9uUZRAmXjPbnVeem43BKh1YzcAGtp04WEJqr7B3Kv46uzTw0dCngKjEzd0Vgv9qTZoF7BX/s1600/IMG_0337.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi314Hs2B02ZcRDSh8iWro4pmLTzYsUqu5_e0nK0552rUZb6WLiWYgOtF9jGzaGrrw1jdawGE9uUZRAmXjPbnVeem43BKh1YzcAGtp04WEJqr7B3Kv46uzTw0dCngKjEzd0Vgv9qTZoF7BX/s400/IMG_0337.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Descending to Lake Blanche Picture Ben Lewis</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQfq4xzoyLOPu52EM9ztvD46p0THAJXnJ-3nuXn6pFEh8iaEPj2WyyqhswDmksh2X5y_nQAjj2Jf8D0d_06yGcOU9YF5yJZd-Qmjw4GcTI9eDQuvN9IstNrNC11vApkknVF9Iq5m7qvtIa/s1600/20170709_165311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQfq4xzoyLOPu52EM9ztvD46p0THAJXnJ-3nuXn6pFEh8iaEPj2WyyqhswDmksh2X5y_nQAjj2Jf8D0d_06yGcOU9YF5yJZd-Qmjw4GcTI9eDQuvN9IstNrNC11vApkknVF9Iq5m7qvtIa/s400/20170709_165311.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Totally cooked coming into S-Curves</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguWtuMFqrar8xkohgxAq8SpBn8A1SfJIb4j9prAkPHSxa7np1dV_HeoyNACJWdPGAjWERJiPLBJ2bo7ErsYL9zIAGj9TlyCLHmU1CjyRX_qQHzDzj1bB52eVQlQHUBtE4-Xh2V9bhyphenhyphenFWvv/s1600/20170709_170014%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguWtuMFqrar8xkohgxAq8SpBn8A1SfJIb4j9prAkPHSxa7np1dV_HeoyNACJWdPGAjWERJiPLBJ2bo7ErsYL9zIAGj9TlyCLHmU1CjyRX_qQHzDzj1bB52eVQlQHUBtE4-Xh2V9bhyphenhyphenFWvv/s400/20170709_170014%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ben happy to hand me off to Christian for last section</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7qMeb0yDiQNFkyV8TRUCbYGQmd_UHOPgLUzA7khfMUpQcZJ3h0ldCZWiZqvuIM3kR3tXtICwE2jLXn9ASRP6Mu_F-iNmTSB5nO2o7Lh51edM5e4tne50B7GIkxmW9gPYeVhkRsHao40j/s1600/20170709_190348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7qMeb0yDiQNFkyV8TRUCbYGQmd_UHOPgLUzA7khfMUpQcZJ3h0ldCZWiZqvuIM3kR3tXtICwE2jLXn9ASRP6Mu_F-iNmTSB5nO2o7Lh51edM5e4tne50B7GIkxmW9gPYeVhkRsHao40j/s320/20170709_190348.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Excuse to stop and point to where I was 3 hours ago Picture Christian Johnson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBdslFwkAZcU6vfzJ8QSKknnNYjEfmTzS1xgjRtoLDt2edNAcmJ6hTuv4OYvbEFor85YHjgSwIdhM7s-PkvY-k9KK4EKhlW_tPDeVLXFlxnfQx7gqPpHqBAKCfjIaMhyphenhyphenaiULqr19oHFe-l/s1600/20170709_202847%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBdslFwkAZcU6vfzJ8QSKknnNYjEfmTzS1xgjRtoLDt2edNAcmJ6hTuv4OYvbEFor85YHjgSwIdhM7s-PkvY-k9KK4EKhlW_tPDeVLXFlxnfQx7gqPpHqBAKCfjIaMhyphenhyphenaiULqr19oHFe-l/s400/20170709_202847%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Slogging the last 6 miles, Desolation trail Picture Christian Johnson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBuKngM5tXWKE5WD5UF5qAMgDJYu6SZnoLsVagdhPJjPuxd3O6nkXZlRYyU_ZfpegvpKYAIgVtNINIy9Vl1KsDpAL60i-TMYKftqx7oscXJyzoRldvLeAt0xUdX5svq_9A9bjuBgI_VA5P/s1600/20170709_203955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBuKngM5tXWKE5WD5UF5qAMgDJYu6SZnoLsVagdhPJjPuxd3O6nkXZlRYyU_ZfpegvpKYAIgVtNINIy9Vl1KsDpAL60i-TMYKftqx7oscXJyzoRldvLeAt0xUdX5svq_9A9bjuBgI_VA5P/s400/20170709_203955.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost, almost final stretch Picture Christian Johnson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style>Millwood 100 2017</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So why run Millwood, as Jared stated
on the newly created Millwood Official page, you receive no award, no
belt buckle or t-shirt, no listing on Ultra Signup and
accept for a handful of local runners no real recognition from
anybody. I had a few reasons to attempt this route.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
First is the route itself, it covers
all the geographic area that I have been running for the last 10+
years. I do occasionally run in other parts of the Wasatch but 95
percent of the time in the spring, summer and fall I am running on
one of the trails in the three canyons this route covers and I love
them all, and this route covers most of the better ones. Think of the
multiple spectacular locations this route covers, plus I can't think
of a 100 mile race that has a better finish then the last 10 miles
of Millwood. I mean seriously you can't deny that the trail from the
top of Porter Fork over to Thayne's Canyon isn't some of the best
single track in the Wasatch Range.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Second reason is how hard the route is.
I gave up running 100 milers back in 2013 when I had my first drop in
a race at the Wasatch 100. I dropped because I felt awful in the very
hot conditions that year but I had felt that way before in races, the
missing component in this race was I wasn't having any fun, wasn't
looking forward to the experience of running 100 miles and didn't
really care if I finished. It was as if a light switch had been
turned off, I was done with 100 mile races. But.... and there is
always a but, I had never run the hardest 100 mile mountain race in
the country, the Hard Rock 100. Now I have never really been drawn to
H.R. 100 like some people, even as impressive as
those mountains are and the amazing community that surrounds Hardrock
I never really had a burning desire to run the race. I have paced
about 130 miles of Hardrock so I know how spectacular, hard and
special that race is but I was not willing to run a qualifier to get
in and deep down knew I really didn't want to. But I felt like my 100
mile resume if that is what you want to call it was incomplete and I
hadn't proved to myself that I could complete such a hard mountain
course. Now I really don't know which is harder HR100 or Millwood but
I figure Millwood is close enough, if I could complete this route
then I could mentally check off 100 mile races and move onto what
ever new adventure presents itself.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The third reason and hopefully I can
explain this in a way that makes sense, Millwood is a celebration a
tribute if you may. A very very long time ago when people still had
blogs I wrote some post about how Wasatch 100 race was just a race
and the I important part was the journey to get ready for running
Wasatch. My friend Peter commented something to the effect that sure
the journey is important but the Wasatch 100 was the celebration of
the journey and chance to get everybody together to do so. For some
reason this has always stuck with me and I believe it is completely
correct. Millwood to me is a celebration and a tribute to these
amazing mountains, and the people that run in them. Jared wanted to
make a very hard challenging 100 mile route but he also wanted to showcase the
best of the Central Wasatch Mountains and its trails and he nailed it
perfectly. By completing the Millwood I have hopefully shown how much
I love these mountains and how lucky I am to share them with truly
amazing people. Now sure ego is always in play in these events/routes
but I don't think you run something as hard as Millwood without a
strong connection to the place and the people, otherwise what's the
point.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Thanks to everybody that made this
possible and thanks to Jared for creating such a amazing challenging
route.<br />
<br />
In this last week Ryan Tockstein became the 6th person to complete Millwood. Congratulations to him, Ryan ran a very fast time and did it in style, it was a pleasure to spend a little time with him at the finish. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
July 8,9 2017</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My time 41:01, 5<sup>th</sup> person to
complete the route</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Pacers: Peter Lindgren, Astrid
Lindgren, George Odell, Jay Aldous, Erik Storheim, Ben Lewis and
Christian Johnson, guest appearance Dan Barnett ( Cardiff to Kessler
to B.C.C road)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Crew: Betsy Johnson and Christian
Johnson</div>
Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00947840810795431147noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-75314455186979715072017-04-15T23:27:00.001-06:002017-04-15T23:29:51.994-06:00Staring Down the Demons at the Barkley Marathons<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpXZ8daTVCPH9gfhqVKpdAwfSKORTNmbh21RlPYBByC03s5TeIXIjl_-h-iOxZ4tG5n7i0d6cL4NfRQWV6airVRGN3tVM8L7KctsRFfMAJ-UrGlqz0vH3dUggUdbtRbxqirAF4t2aWp24/s1600/IMG_1251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpXZ8daTVCPH9gfhqVKpdAwfSKORTNmbh21RlPYBByC03s5TeIXIjl_-h-iOxZ4tG5n7i0d6cL4NfRQWV6airVRGN3tVM8L7KctsRFfMAJ-UrGlqz0vH3dUggUdbtRbxqirAF4t2aWp24/s320/IMG_1251.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Yellow Gate.<br />
Where dreams begin and end.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After last year’s ho-hum completion of 1 loop and 4 books, I
thought there was no way I would be getting a second chance at running the
Barkley Marathons again in 2017. At
best, I hoped to maybe get on the Weight List, and over the next few years,
work myself back up onto the group of unfortunate 40 who get to toe the line. As
part of my essay (below) details, I acknowledged there was no real reason I
should be selected to run this year:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="background: #F4F4F4;">
<sub><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri";"><br /></span></sub></div>
<div style="background: #F4F4F4;">
<sub><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri";">“This
year I am hoping to do better. Although, in applying, I recognize that I
am no more qualified, in fact substantially less qualified, than most of this
years applicants. I haven't finished a 100 mile race since 2013
(Barkley being the only one I've started). I've struggled to find
"it" over the last 9 months, settling for long mellow hikes and
explorations with kids and neighbors and/or a bow and arrow, rather than
"training" hard. I've wondered if at 44, with a surgically repaired
ankle, and 4 kids (#5 due the end of April), I'm spread too thin to give
Barkley another go. <o:p></o:p></span></sub></div>
<div style="background: #F4F4F4;">
<sub><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri";">As
far as credentials go, I have nothing current to supply. I'm relying on
past accomplishments, wins, FKT's, etc. But I can promise you that if I
do happen to make it into the Unfortunate Group of 40, the past will be
forgotten, and the focus will be on the next 4 months. As I stated in a
post-Barkley race report earlier this year, "The goal is five loops, and
there's really no room for any thought other than that". <o:p></o:p></span></sub></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So when I received my Letter of Condolences indicating my
acceptance into the 2017 event, I was shocked (Brooke even more than me),
ecstatic, nervous, grateful, and overwhelmed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWaRJ-Y02OewoCptlk2WfTHCWinqWq8R3eC8qTWVcjH65HeGB11-WCsZK3MgCqAAWHs_Likcs2GZe97uF3aDxMhBkSLeIJMJV89DFaNBwSbS5nYCbGSLA6DZxBFppR7zFcj6EksiUQFmo/s1600/IMG_1254.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWaRJ-Y02OewoCptlk2WfTHCWinqWq8R3eC8qTWVcjH65HeGB11-WCsZK3MgCqAAWHs_Likcs2GZe97uF3aDxMhBkSLeIJMJV89DFaNBwSbS5nYCbGSLA6DZxBFppR7zFcj6EksiUQFmo/s320/IMG_1254.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Obligatory Check-in Selfie.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Which brings me to Friday, March 31, 2017. I had trained the best I could. I had gotten myself ready physically. I was
in a much better mental state than during the previous year. I was ready to
go. I checked in and handed Laz the pack
of comfortable white socks that along with $1.60, was this year’s entry fee. I
picked up my Loop 1 race # (49), and took a look at the Master Map to see what
changes would be facing us this year.
The map changes were small, but the big change was that instead of
running Loop 1 &2 clockwise, and Loop3 & 4 counterclockwise, each loop
would alternate directions. 1 clockwise, 2 counter, and so on. Wow-that was a change all right. There were plenty of veterans out there who
had <i>never</i> run a counter clockwise
loop, me included!! This could be interesting, and I was really excited about
the change. A loop 2 in the
counterclockwise meant I’d see it with a fresher mind and eyes, but depending
on the start time, it also meant it could be run entirely in the dark. But I wouldn’t worry about that until the
conch blew and we knew the starting time.
Just in case this year’s loop was an early start (which hadn’t happened
since 2011), I made sure my food bags were packed and labeled for each loop, had
my clothing and gear laid out, and asked Dale Holdaway’s sister and
brother-in-law, who I was sharing a campsite with, to wake me up if I slept
through the conch. I was asleep by 9:30 and all of the sudden someone was
knocking on the window of my van telling me the conch had been blown and I had
45 minutes. What the???? I had slept through the conch??? It was 1 am, with
light rain and camp was abuzz. By the time I got something to eat, got dressed
and took care of last minute details, everyone (but me) was gathered at the
gate. As I put my pack on, I heard taps being played for “those who have gone
before us,” and then the lights gathered at the gate let out a shout and were
moving up the trail, as I ran to catch up.
I’m embarrassed to say this wasn’t my first late start……</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Loop 1- Chaos<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The initial climb up Bird Mountain was relaxed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a light drizzle, and the higher we
ascended, the denser the fog became.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
tried to figure out who was around me, and I remember talking briefly with Ed,
Sean Ranney, Mike, Kathleen, Henry, and a couple others. As we ran along the
ridge, Kathleen, right in front of me, excitedly yelled “ Hey it’s the Pillars
of Death!” One step later, she slipped, went head first, and caught herself at
the last minute. The Pillars almost lived up to their name. The fog was so
dense that at times, I could barely see my feet, and I resorted to taking my
headlamp off and holding it at waist level to better illuminate the ground in front
of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we neared where Book 1 (which
had been changed to a new spot this year) was supposed to be, confusion set in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were searching headlamps everywhere,
and voices echoing through the fog asking if anyone had found the Book. Finally,
a voice called out that it was found, and all headlamps converged. Pages were
ripped out, and off the headlamps went to disappear once more into the
fog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was repeated over the next 4
books.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each time I arrived at where a
book was supposed to be, I’d start to hear voices drifting through night, and
then headlamps would once again shine through the mist, casting back and forth
until the book was found, and all the lights would converge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looking back at the situation, it is fairly
comical, but at the time, it was extremely frustrating, and with each book
search, I seemed to lose more and more time. As the sky started to lighten
while heading up Leonard’s Buttslide, I was already an hour behind last year’s
pace at this point. My prerace plan (to be in a position to attempt 5 loops),
was to finish an hour faster than last years Loop 1 time of 10 hours 10
minutes. I was only 5 books in, I felt like my race was already beginning to
unravel and the feelings of despair that had become so familiar over the last
year started to manifest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This is
stupid. What’s the point? Can I stick this out for another day and a half? Do I
want to?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was getting dangerous and I
needed to get my head in a different spot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Luckily, the sky lightened, the fog became less dense, and as typically
occurs with a new day, new hope came along with it. I had been tagging along
with Heather Anderson and Adam Lint since Book 3 and while we didn’t do much
talking, their company was appreciated! As we headed down towards the New River
we found ourselves close to Rob Youngren, Scott Breeden, Kathleen Cusick, Megan
Farrell and 1 or 2 others. Over the next 6-7 hours and 9 books, I focused on
putting one foot in front of the other and moving efficiently. And while I lost
my map temporarily just before Pig Head Creek, and was mostly by myself until I
caught up with Rob, Megan and Scott at the Beech Tree, I kept the negative
thoughts at bay and truly enjoyed my time in the Tennessee Woods, grateful to
even have the chance to be out competing against myself and the course.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj8e03t1Yii8_pMWXFGsGTwAP9rRQLJtEh_LuDYoYasz-JO_nCEDUES4QelODe7GCqm3QzLwwz19iZoKS5P8d5NYRGSAAw9h1oynDzgixQZ__YA0tzV3coG8BdqcOpWpc3F2OxZIN08cs/s1600/IMG_1262.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj8e03t1Yii8_pMWXFGsGTwAP9rRQLJtEh_LuDYoYasz-JO_nCEDUES4QelODe7GCqm3QzLwwz19iZoKS5P8d5NYRGSAAw9h1oynDzgixQZ__YA0tzV3coG8BdqcOpWpc3F2OxZIN08cs/s320/IMG_1262.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clearing Fog<br />
Photo: John Sharp</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Loop 2-Demons</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Arriving at camp in 10 hours 42 minutes, Rob and I agreed to
head back out at the 11 hour mark. Dale Holdaway’s sister and brother-in-law
were extremely helpful in crewing me and while I changed my wet socks, ate what
I could, and got new food and batteries, Joey made me a 3 egg/sausage breakfast
burrito to take on the trail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rob left
camp at 11 hours on the dot, and in what would turn out to be a recurring theme
for the rest of our time together, I left a few minutes later, and spent the
next 45 minutes catching up to him on the long trail up to Chimney Top.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rob was a great companion, and I was
extremely lucky to be able to spend a little more than two loops (and 30 hours)
sharing the trail with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was
Rob’s 8<sup>th</sup> time at Barkley, and with a Fun Run finish in 2012, he was
about as experienced a participant as there was to be found in the woods of
Frozen Head that weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We motored
along without any navigational errors and somewhere along the way (I don’t
recall if they caught up to us or we caught up to them) we hooked up with
Brandon Stapanowich, Jamil Coury and Michael Versteeg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heading down the Bad Thing, Jamil decided he
wanted to actually move and disappeared down the hill in about 3 seconds, and then
Michael did the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We didn’t see
either of them again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Brandon, Rob and I
made a good team and seemed to be moving well, but at about the halfway point,
as we were heading down Testicle Spectacle, I realized that we had been out almost
7 hours already, and this would likely be a 14 hour loop, with the sun going
down in the next hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Holy (insert your
favorite cuss word)!! My 36 hour Fun Run was out of sight, and a 40 hour finish
was quickly becoming less likely. The demons that I had firmly put behind me on
Loop 1 came shrieking back and I quickly found myself in a very bad place
mentally, almost talking myself into quitting at the end of Loop 2.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was starting to get tired, I didn’t know
how I could do another 20 hours of the relentless climbing and descending, and
I kept thinking to myself “This is stupid. What’s the point? Can I stick this
out for another day and a half? Do I want to?” I was so tired of feeling like
this, and finally, as this rolled over and over again in my mind, I remembered.
I remembered why I was here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was
EXACTLY the reason I needed to be here. It was to remember what it was like to
be uncomfortable. To suffer. To feel the pangs of hopelessness. Not to “wonder
why”, but to KNOW why. And to embrace these self-doubts. To welcome them and
turn them into Strength. Resolve. Determination. I remembered something that
Laz had said. Something along the lines of “The successful Barkley applicant
will learn to Embrace that which they Fear the most”. That was why I was
here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mental state leading up to
Barkley had been great, up until the week before the race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then my mind began to race, my heart-rate
would quicken as I lay in bed thinking about what was to come. I was almost on
the verge of panic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I realized that
it was fear. Not necessarily fear of failure (because most people “fail” at
Barkley), but fear of discomfort, of sleepless night(s), of screaming quads, a
rebellious stomach, and cramping calves. And fear that I wouldn’t be able to
handle it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So…in that moment, it all changed. Really. It was literally within
a few second span that my mind raced through processing this, and all was
good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, it was going to be
uncomfortable, I was going to say to myself “Boy, Big Hell really sucks,” I may
not even make the 3 loop cutoff, but all was good, and the Demons of Self-doubt
that had plagued me since my Barkley attempt last year were banished for
good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
PHEW!!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Brandon, Rob and I watched a spectacular sunset while
climbing Stallion Mt, and we steadily made our way through the rest of the
course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Brandon’s left shin was becoming
quite painful and starting to slow him down and I was sad to see him drop
behind and out of sight before climbing Jaque Mate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rob and I decided that with the 36 hour cut
off out of reach, but 15 hours left for a 40 hour Fun Run finish, we’d take an
hour once back to camp to eat, and possibly take a nap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkuU-LDwoE3n-FEKzSxtBtxB7JN_Gfuq2POPG5VvjZeRMaPHYNkUOZ1NYkyISEKRmhgTndrybJYoeascpDMujC0DqeziPsQSuJtBa9p2o67aUsgx7a9nUVVGYUGg1E4IP50iOx-KTzzNc/s1600/unspecified.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkuU-LDwoE3n-FEKzSxtBtxB7JN_Gfuq2POPG5VvjZeRMaPHYNkUOZ1NYkyISEKRmhgTndrybJYoeascpDMujC0DqeziPsQSuJtBa9p2o67aUsgx7a9nUVVGYUGg1E4IP50iOx-KTzzNc/s320/unspecified.jpeg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeling Better than I look on Rat Jaw.<br />
Photo: The RealHikingViking</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Loop 3- Fun.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Again, Dale’s Sister and Brother in law were a huge help in
getting me turned around at camp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
changed socks, ate a pot of stew and climbed into my bag for a 20-minute nap. As
I lay there processing all the things I needed for Loop 3, I remember thinking
there was no way I was going to fall asleep, and then… my alarm went off and I
woke feeling completely refreshed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>15
minutes of deep sleep felt like I had been out for 3-4 hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I added some hot water to the now cold
cup-o-noodles I had prepared, filled my water bottle with hot chocolate, and
headed out on loop 3, once again chasing Rob up the trail. He had left at 26
hours to the second, I was a few minutes behind, again. As I slowly caught up
to Rob, I thought I saw a light way below me on the switchbacks. Someone in
camp told me that Jamil had been asleep for a couple hours and they weren’t
sure if he was coming back out. I figured he must have decided it was time and
apparently the long nap had been good to him because he was catching up to us
quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure enough, Jamil passed us as
we were almost to Book 1, then took off down Jaque Mate. I’m not sure where he
went after that, because the next thing we saw of him was while almost to the
top of Jury Ridge, and we could see a light way below us, back where we had
just come from. Someday I’d like to talk to him, and see what happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rob and I pressed on, knowing we had plenty
of time, but very aware that if wasted any time, or made any navigational
errors, our chances of a Fun Run would quickly be over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every time we came to a creek crossing, I
would stop and fill up my water bottle. Rob had a 60-70 oz reservoir and didn’t
need to stop so often, so he would keep moving and it would take the next 10-15
minutes to catch back up to him. It was a great motivator to keep me moving at
a steady pace! The rest of the loop was fairly uneventful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sun came up and what a spectacular
sunrise it was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sun a molten ball of
orange hanging just above the treeline above Stallion Mtn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the infamous climbs and descents came and
went and we plugged along. We ran into John and Gary at Indian Knob, a couple
hours into their 4<sup>th</sup> loop and they looked as fresh as if they’d just
started. The only other notable moment (to me) was while descending to The
Beech Tree. Rob wanted to stay left, I wanted to go right, and being the
unflappable guy that he is, Rob agreed with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well, I chose wrong and we ended up in a nasty section of rocks that ate
away precious minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could tell Rob
was a little stressed, so when we sat down at The Beech Tree to get our pages,
I said , ”Rob, If I suggest a route, and it’s probably not the best, just say
‘Bro-This is my 8<sup>th</sup> Barkley and your 2<sup>nd </sup>.” He smiled good
naturedly and just said something about not having much room for error. Then we
got up to move, I got something out of my pack, and spent the next 10-15
minutes catching up to him….<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then we were at Chimney Top, on Candy-Ass trail, and I
gratefully allowed myself the luxury of admitting that we were going to finish
the Fun Run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t believe it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t remember how many times I yelled out
to Rob running in front of me “Dude!! We’re doing it!!!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We’re going to do it!!” If I could of, I would
have flown down the trail at 6 minute pace. The reality was that I was happy to
stump along at half that speed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
crossed the creek, hit the walking trail, crossed the bridge, and finally,
luxuriantly, allowed ourselves to relax, walk, and enjoy the last 200 meters up
to the Yellow Gate.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYc_BZpEjdI-QPxzDdNhW0qcSiKltI8hVF-4iX8zf9QonTHFdSpO7p39zq4EbcqIvQ0X8UELyFDuSYrhDGX1JbFoTi8UTufpKdl_du8yf4ErHcPq2l__pI4_v0lXil0jJEjAAghPvN7iE/s1600/unspecified-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYc_BZpEjdI-QPxzDdNhW0qcSiKltI8hVF-4iX8zf9QonTHFdSpO7p39zq4EbcqIvQ0X8UELyFDuSYrhDGX1JbFoTi8UTufpKdl_du8yf4ErHcPq2l__pI4_v0lXil0jJEjAAghPvN7iE/s320/unspecified-1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fun Run Finish, with Rob Youngren<br />
Photo: The RealHikingViking</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I touched the Gate for the 3<sup>rd</sup> (and last)
time, a flood of emotions surged through me.
I struggled to hold back the tears of happiness and gratitude. The sense of accomplishment was almost more
than I could handle. In retrospect, I should have run high-stepping up to the
gate with fists pumping, high-fiving everyone I could get close to and yelling
at the top of my lungs. But…. I am a
fairly stoic person, and the only emotion I revealed was a huge, cheek
splitting grin. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9BFCEwSVBWpCR-mTdKVDEi0mmvtfybKxxa-LcaIpcYmoF0m0dIEoW4HQGHpYkI7WPQRqbwE8RwHZQX-iuZiO9BYZWs6LHQMyk_g6KAvRNl5CJu1OLGNC2tpgtcvr0mmRjEP_d2u-5KlY/s1600/unspecified-6.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9BFCEwSVBWpCR-mTdKVDEi0mmvtfybKxxa-LcaIpcYmoF0m0dIEoW4HQGHpYkI7WPQRqbwE8RwHZQX-iuZiO9BYZWs6LHQMyk_g6KAvRNl5CJu1OLGNC2tpgtcvr0mmRjEP_d2u-5KlY/s320/unspecified-6.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Counting the final pages.<br />
Photo: The RealHikingViking</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rob and I handed our pages to Laz, and while he counted them
(Rob could only find 12 for a heart-stopping moment, then found #13 hidden in
his race #) we joked that the race issued watches were not synchronized. Mine was 4 seconds faster than Rob’s, so he
was winning the whole race. It turns out
that Laz’s was 2 seconds faster than mine!!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqx-OASrwuduE2E9ilWDkoqQyPDQsbbgv8aPQLuMXJZ_0BKkOJF-Bhtoz7stTzIiT0xuDKAuIMcvUSFW7AADxnaYlGzOD1qLKzOuyg8surwMteecDuB6ueIF8wx7Rrg6Wjj6rItvVP6r4/s1600/unspecified-8.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqx-OASrwuduE2E9ilWDkoqQyPDQsbbgv8aPQLuMXJZ_0BKkOJF-Bhtoz7stTzIiT0xuDKAuIMcvUSFW7AADxnaYlGzOD1qLKzOuyg8surwMteecDuB6ueIF8wx7Rrg6Wjj6rItvVP6r4/s320/unspecified-8.jpeg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All smiles. couldn't have done it without Rob<br />
Photo: The RealVikingHiking</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After the hand-shakes, smiles, congratulations, and looking
for a place to sit down, I saw the bugler out of the corner of my eye, waiting
for <i>his</i> turn. Rob and I both stepped
back, and with hats off, and hands on our hearts, listened to Taps being
played. Twice. Once for each of us. We
had “failed”, because “The goal is five loops. And there’s really no room for
any thought other than that.” But I have seldom felt a greater sense of
accomplishment. It was a somber, yet oh-so-fulfilling moment, and one that
forever will be etched in my mind. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7BV48G9xt5G8xv7tENZwbTd3iHJl8z9G7PPLOns8zd0yXn0SmzwIKdqP6fRtbtX7c2xU2K77-evw8D7TvCH4HgfZzEbgMEZg76y3x8jRud_yHTkNgO-NIzOCv6EI_x9-UGnX7wEmEUPM/s1600/unspecified-13+2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7BV48G9xt5G8xv7tENZwbTd3iHJl8z9G7PPLOns8zd0yXn0SmzwIKdqP6fRtbtX7c2xU2K77-evw8D7TvCH4HgfZzEbgMEZg76y3x8jRud_yHTkNgO-NIzOCv6EI_x9-UGnX7wEmEUPM/s320/unspecified-13+2.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tapped out.<br />
Photo: The RealHikingViking</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thanks go out to many- but foremost to Brooke. Without her unconditional love and support, I
wouldn’t be able to accomplish much. She sacrifices, and then sacrifices a
little more to encourage me to train,
sleep, recover and eat everything in sight.
Thank you to my 4 (5 in two weeks) kids who inspire me to be a good
person, and help me remember that there’s more to life than Barkley. Thank you to my parents for always being
there (if not always agreeing with where “there” is). Thanks to friends and
neighbors, and training partners who are willing to get up hours before dawn to
go on a hike. And thank you to God for a
body that allows me to do such marvelous things. Thanks to people and companies that have
supported me along the way. Altra, First Lite, Petzl, Wasatch Running Center,
and Trail and Ultra Running (TAUR). And my heartfelt gratitude to Laz, and all
the other volunteers and participants (past and present) that make Barkley what
it is, and continue challenging us to embrace our fears, and to chase away the
demons.</div>
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Erikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475889996792094050noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-5964822715319775862016-12-29T10:51:00.000-07:002017-01-06T01:21:11.244-07:00Jay Aldous - Year in Review<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIsnTtyGgHOgSkX9kW_bMWQyMDX3yb9ZKr2RSAQK-6DYzDr_3ddc-cFuBz09kziEKpNAF35YXx5D8WBZP0sExvQTW88UDxADLF4uxOZOHIygT50Jhad4cehcZ-JYXn4YamU1W1gVvEGobQ/s1600/34211693.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIsnTtyGgHOgSkX9kW_bMWQyMDX3yb9ZKr2RSAQK-6DYzDr_3ddc-cFuBz09kziEKpNAF35YXx5D8WBZP0sExvQTW88UDxADLF4uxOZOHIygT50Jhad4cehcZ-JYXn4YamU1W1gVvEGobQ/s400/34211693.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">UTMB</td></tr>
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“You don’t seem to running much anymore” more was the
comment. When I replied, “not true,” the response was “Oh, I just haven’t seen
many posts.” While the posts this year have been limited, the running has not.
It’s been a remarkable year of running that has included being able to run in
18 different countries, trudges to the top of Mount Kilimanjaro and Mt. Fuji,
and four races ranging from 50K to 166k.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crazy Desert 50K</td></tr>
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My first race of the year was the Crazy Desert 50K in San
Angelo, Texas. I was looking for an early season tune-up run with ambitions to
go sub 4:00. I was pleased with the effort, which was good enough for first,
but finished in an ‘o so close’ 4:01.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">100 Miles of Istria - Motovan Aid Station</td></tr>
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In April I returned to run the 100 miles of Istria trail
race. This race, which crosses the Istrian peninsula in Croatia, is one of my
favorites. The course, race organization and volunteers make this in my view one
of the ‘must run’ 100 mile trail races. Two years ago I was able to win, last
year I dropped at 85 miles, and this year I felt compelled to return both to
redeem myself for last year’s drop as well as run with a number of Croatian and
Italian runners that I have met since living in Italy. While it wasn’t my best
day, I was able beat my previous time and place 3<sup>rd</sup>.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt. Kilimanjaro</td></tr>
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In June I ran to the top of Mount Kilimanjaro. I’ve wanted to
do this for a number of years and when a work trip took me to Kenya I knew it
was my opportunity. I had ambitions to break Simon Mtuy’s self-supported FKT of
9:21. It took me 9:22. Darn! Running at 16,000+ feet was an amazing experience.
I‘ve always sensed I was good at altitude. This run validated it.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Start of UTMB</td></tr>
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During June and July I prepared for UTMB. I traveled to
Chamonix on a number of occasions and was able to complete two preview/training
circuits on the UTMB course. I enjoyed the long days of running followed by
good food, conversation and companionship in the refugi along the way. I had
ambitions to complete the course in under 26 hours, but after wilting in the
heat and running out of gas on the final two climbs I finished in 27:04. While
my time was not what I had hoped for, I was still pleased to have placed first
in the V2 category.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mount Fuji</td></tr>
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In early September work took me to Tokyo and I seized the
opportunity to run to the top of Mt. Fuji. This is another run I have wanted to
do for some time and thoroughly enjoyed this remarkable Japanese cultural
experience.</div>
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My final race of the year was the Desert Solstice
invitational event where I wanted to set a new world best 100 mile 55+ age
performance. I went into the race confident I could easily beat the existing
mark of 14:15, but the day did not come together for me. My time of 14:37 was
good enough for a new American 55+ 100 mile mark and I was able to set a new 55+
American mark for 100k along the way. Cleary some unfinished business in 2017??</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Desert Solstice</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;">So what does 2017 bring? I went through the fall ritual of
applying for Western States and Hardrock in the hopes that some day I will be
able to run these races. But no luck for 2017. One of the reasons I enjoy
racing in Europe is that I am largely exempt from participating in lotteries
because of my ITRA cotation. Yet, I have not registered for any events given
that my work will reassign me early in the year and do not yet know where I
will be living. Possibilities range from Geneva, Switzerland (great for trail
running) to Freetown, Sierra Leone (not so good), and several other
possibilities in Africa and Asia. By the time I know my new terra firma, I will have missed the
closing dates for most of the big European races such as UTMB and TDG. The
upside is that I will be somewhere new and will be able to experience a new
trail running scene and races. And, there is the 100-mile age group record that
will require a trip to an IAU certified course sometime, somewhere during the
year. No doubt 2017 will be another exciting year of running!</span><br />
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Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15533353909898449804noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-8123831708988363932016-12-22T20:19:00.000-07:002016-12-22T20:19:00.727-07:00Rest and Recovery, and 2016 in Review.2016 has been an interesting year in the running segment of my life. I was weight-listed to run the Barkley Marathons in early 2016, then trained like I was in. I waited patiently for the list to move, and luckily, with a couple weeks to go, moved onto the unfortunate list of 40 who were to start the race. Little did I realize how much Barkley would sap me. Physically, I over did it. The demanding schedule of a young family, a full time job and other life responsibilities meant that the back to back to back days of tons of vert were only accomplished by giving up precious hours of sleep. Not a great recipe for peak physical preparedness. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading up Rat Jaw with Ty Draney<br />PC: Leon Lutz</td></tr>
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And 1 1/2 laps into Barkley my knee (possibly as a result of over training and not enough recovery) decided it was done. Mentally, I was fried. I didn't realize just how much mental energy I was wasting worrying about the unknowns that Barkley presented. What will the terrain be like, will I be able to navigate, can I keep up with a veteran and remember the course, what will the weather be like, do I have the right nutrition and equipment, will I actually get off the weight-list? The mental stress was relentless, and taxing.<br />
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I took the rest of April and most of May off, going for a run if I felt like it, more often than not just going for a mellow hike. I organized a monthly neighborhood hiking group, hitting Mt Van Cott, Mt Wire, Grandeur Peak and Red Pine Lake over the summer months.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandeur Peak<br />With the Valley View Neighborhood Hikers</td></tr>
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During these outings, I started thinking about races again, but every time I started to formulate a plan on how to get back into it, I just couldn't find "it". I started the Millwood 100 in early July, and after just 20 miles, I was already a few hours behind my anticipated splits. With no desire to suffer for the next 30-40 hours, I pulled the plug. I managed to run a decent Speedgoat 50K, followed by a solid Vaquero Loco 50K a couple weeks later, but then lost the drive again. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vaquero Loco 50K<br />Corral Lake with Greg Norrander</td></tr>
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Planning to run the Uinta Highline trail in early August, I fizzled in my half-hearted attempts to coordinate logistics, and opted for a leisurely and thoroughly enjoyable exploration of a few of the 13,000 ft peaks in the Uintas, along with some fantastic fishing in Cliff Lake, Dead Horse Lake and the West Fork of Blacks Fork river. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wasatch Peak<br />High Uintas Wilderness</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiger Trout<br />Dead Horse Lake-High Uintas Wilderness</td></tr>
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I had a great time exploring some new hiking trails in Acadia National Park with my family. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Precipice Trail<br />Acadia National Park</td></tr>
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And finally, after struggling with daily self-motivation sessions to train for and run the Mogollon Monster, a tough 100 mile Hardrock qualifier in Arizona, I decided 2016 was done as far as racing goes. And I have enjoyed every moment spent outside since then. I switched modes from "training" to "enjoying" and more often than not, when I was on a trail, I had my binoculars and/or bow and arrow in hand and was moving slower than I had in years. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWNFYnsWPazski16dyXLu8wwVnRcZlaTZ8z5o04C7p0oDQhFMK8yd4HW-8gGGXEjg3PnR5ll0sja9v2TcwecQZ80M6IBaGNlRDRQLMxGmHAVwjHWMu22HxsRCXreNxWKJSUjEM8jLG7iI/s1600/IMG_9654.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWNFYnsWPazski16dyXLu8wwVnRcZlaTZ8z5o04C7p0oDQhFMK8yd4HW-8gGGXEjg3PnR5ll0sja9v2TcwecQZ80M6IBaGNlRDRQLMxGmHAVwjHWMu22HxsRCXreNxWKJSUjEM8jLG7iI/s320/IMG_9654.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wasatch Mountains<br />Late Season Archery Elk hunt.</td></tr>
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I stopped to soak up the sights, I paused to explore the rustlings around me. I listened to bull elk bugling at each other (and occasionally at me). <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This bull gave me the slip over and over again</td></tr>
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I renewed friendships that had lain fallow while I concentrated on "fast and far."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Best 25-year High School Reunion ever.<br />with Drew Cooper and John Ballou</td></tr>
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I slept more (occasionally). I was resting, I was recovering physically and mentally, I was rejuvenating. What will 2017 bring? I don't know. The only certainty is that life will continue to get busier as we add Kiddo #5 to our growing family in the Spring. I'd like to say that I will run a few races. Maybe I'll even get psyched enough to run a 100 again (THAT hasn't happened since I finished the Bear in 2013).<br />
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I do know that whatever I end up doing, I'll take the time to Enjoy, Rest and Recover.Erikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475889996792094050noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-22452536794345522092016-11-28T04:45:00.000-07:002016-11-28T04:45:44.006-07:00Paris by Night + Romania<div>
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This past week I had the honour of speaking at a dinner event hosted by US Ambassador Crystal Nix-Hines in Paris. Since my flight had me arriving several hours before the event, I reached out to Marie-Amelie Serre who I had met earlier this year at UTMB to see if she was available for a quick early evening run along the Seine. Marie's response was that she had a commitment, but asked if I would be interested in a "Paris by Night" run after my event. My initial reaction was "no" given my phobia of not getting enough sleep. But after a bit of reflection, I realised this was a unique opportunity to see Paris by night guided by a Parisian ultra-runner. A few pictures from from a 15 mile route that captured many of Paris' great monuments and sights.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjusb0KmUQ760AwejUOzFhG-G7p2_ihPGec-y5hM8pUaLh7mlHQVEN9erz6P1fxnldcC-Z0PQw0zcjj3oeqv92u9cvXhGadN5BIh1XY3IgcdSgfpK85L_7YVl1Bh_ovDb_YbonEcYe16V9J/s1600/IMG_2394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjusb0KmUQ760AwejUOzFhG-G7p2_ihPGec-y5hM8pUaLh7mlHQVEN9erz6P1fxnldcC-Z0PQw0zcjj3oeqv92u9cvXhGadN5BIh1XY3IgcdSgfpK85L_7YVl1Bh_ovDb_YbonEcYe16V9J/s400/IMG_2394.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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And if that was not enough fun for an entire week, the weekend brought a quick excursion to Brasov, Romania and some great end-of-year trail running in the Carpathian Mountains. Good fun!!<br />
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Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15533353909898449804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-52496056228809368222016-11-20T05:00:00.000-07:002016-11-20T05:00:51.699-07:00Sights and Street Art - Running in Rome
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile .15 - Piramade & the Old City Wall (where we live)</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: start;">I’m often asked, “can you run in Rome?” Many runners think of Rome and imagine gridlocked streets, crazy drivers, and errant motos. While some of this is true, there is something magical about Sunday morning runs when Rome is slow to awake. Let me take you on tour of sights and street art during a spectacular 10 mile run this past Sunday. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile .3 - 'Silvio's House' by MTO (right), Untitled by Lex (left)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdInW94re8cLeypW1m2lUtfOUFNH-pDaknP7Qv9agSQjZXjU5gTLulspBavuAE2QFmsZBUH5iF4_sgLtDq-QyRIF6_qOSopLDtuttIGmSBsAEjKYSJ-XPW43AHJoUe0_aYv-JaACY0nAkh/s1600/IMG_2353.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdInW94re8cLeypW1m2lUtfOUFNH-pDaknP7Qv9agSQjZXjU5gTLulspBavuAE2QFmsZBUH5iF4_sgLtDq-QyRIF6_qOSopLDtuttIGmSBsAEjKYSJ-XPW43AHJoUe0_aYv-JaACY0nAkh/s400/IMG_2353.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 1.3 - Palantine Hill</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkpDR1qJ_7JUkCtwStqPdM8K5zWqiEwRpDtH2H77C-7YbUrTkltQhVf3q1hG_mp12oPNgDCnXk1UBP6WPluXVmNdhgjUED39YcxfYBgkyBo3kzHzy_KD9c5aMASXEAiTsmN55SPhyyl_2C/s1600/IMG_2356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkpDR1qJ_7JUkCtwStqPdM8K5zWqiEwRpDtH2H77C-7YbUrTkltQhVf3q1hG_mp12oPNgDCnXk1UBP6WPluXVmNdhgjUED39YcxfYBgkyBo3kzHzy_KD9c5aMASXEAiTsmN55SPhyyl_2C/s400/IMG_2356.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 1.9 - The Forum</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQIf18a6pPNKJAn9ry-jyPjuE1RKKJZuospdmrBz_9cHQJ1xGmYtRQKPDsVpt7XEsLB5Oes-qgyeFd3ShxkjXpSJwa0RAj5DCiM175uAz8UJSkAhTU0FHCsKmx6iCL6NgGKUvrz8SfoXiG/s1600/IMG_2358.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQIf18a6pPNKJAn9ry-jyPjuE1RKKJZuospdmrBz_9cHQJ1xGmYtRQKPDsVpt7XEsLB5Oes-qgyeFd3ShxkjXpSJwa0RAj5DCiM175uAz8UJSkAhTU0FHCsKmx6iCL6NgGKUvrz8SfoXiG/s400/IMG_2358.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 2.6 - The Colosseum</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJKHeHa7WiNJWUwUwt69MoCDCB8hmC9EkLsxJ1SjGiKUrwyNE1r6UvnNcw9pSgpXbqmF8Yo_FpT6nvmHw2bN_Tg-V8XJvwFt08jawC3nGeEr_2fOczGGSh3wR0DC0LWtOYt3flHKShQo__/s1600/IMG_2362.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJKHeHa7WiNJWUwUwt69MoCDCB8hmC9EkLsxJ1SjGiKUrwyNE1r6UvnNcw9pSgpXbqmF8Yo_FpT6nvmHw2bN_Tg-V8XJvwFt08jawC3nGeEr_2fOczGGSh3wR0DC0LWtOYt3flHKShQo__/s400/IMG_2362.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">Mile 3.6 - Baths of Caracalla<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3EHy0x94r7uaC1BeIijx7KbG1_qy5eu3aZI3kptFfualjRF0KPSWatguqCJftndJNMd2UDcKhD8HUafE9qCKZ76XVVqBmI_DN5gQA1m5tu17XQTtExJAV6mFXnDhiQxtDLczV86bXMRIp/s1600/IMG_2371.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3EHy0x94r7uaC1BeIijx7KbG1_qy5eu3aZI3kptFfualjRF0KPSWatguqCJftndJNMd2UDcKhD8HUafE9qCKZ76XVVqBmI_DN5gQA1m5tu17XQTtExJAV6mFXnDhiQxtDLczV86bXMRIp/s400/IMG_2371.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">Mile 5.1 - Caffarella Park</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5cmQ-7MRPnB9V11C9Q1-kD4rbEaT5RSLOrgwF_XpmBCGxZaXw_qkMqnrH5hIgKH1cjkbgRyvxjF3P7DF8ORG-i0SOXjZfITZCH-_r0ZcRQEIAIX1mkmS0-6PtEHgFqZ6YE-y-MKgCuSxq/s1600/IMG_2335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5cmQ-7MRPnB9V11C9Q1-kD4rbEaT5RSLOrgwF_XpmBCGxZaXw_qkMqnrH5hIgKH1cjkbgRyvxjF3P7DF8ORG-i0SOXjZfITZCH-_r0ZcRQEIAIX1mkmS0-6PtEHgFqZ6YE-y-MKgCuSxq/s400/IMG_2335.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 7.7 - 'The Weight of History' Jaz</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7fIxvHNZYpabzyk5ZhLIV-k4k30tnbF62CxOUzkhktxxH10cXCbkF1eplKRMCqdvUIhLKa1O0kVL1HaCEoYeKc426nNYC45o3iDL43-fT3i4t7rrKpX8B0aVZiz3my3JNlO6P4ebfaXRZ/s1600/IMG_2350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7fIxvHNZYpabzyk5ZhLIV-k4k30tnbF62CxOUzkhktxxH10cXCbkF1eplKRMCqdvUIhLKa1O0kVL1HaCEoYeKc426nNYC45o3iDL43-fT3i4t7rrKpX8B0aVZiz3my3JNlO6P4ebfaXRZ/s400/IMG_2350.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 7.7 - 'The Redeemer Child' by Seth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPaVyzeXKT7uJUF8PHzjHF0btz-GzJf6iof2ZhewZfpocBdr4MqbGj1AK1OXd86zmvdy2rQmvgqPvJN8VirWHj-0_WWi-Co9jws9-wRYmkCHpZjC668czdWXy5IQvHcogGbwmvPwG_p8o9/s1600/IMG_2384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPaVyzeXKT7uJUF8PHzjHF0btz-GzJf6iof2ZhewZfpocBdr4MqbGj1AK1OXd86zmvdy2rQmvgqPvJN8VirWHj-0_WWi-Co9jws9-wRYmkCHpZjC668czdWXy5IQvHcogGbwmvPwG_p8o9/s400/IMG_2384.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 9.5 - Painted Building by Blu</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPDvjSNA_wXJ6ipjJBbfER1MVvTxWotCVc9g6rskwHU7vArmZUJh57m1ZjbRq87j74oyOCZbiseZef9xrhhUiBWBFX30myhDJn6OArf_22m_FpeVyvXw1tQiEZTWyyL_EpsrrQqTiYQHW1/s1600/IMG_2388.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPDvjSNA_wXJ6ipjJBbfER1MVvTxWotCVc9g6rskwHU7vArmZUJh57m1ZjbRq87j74oyOCZbiseZef9xrhhUiBWBFX30myhDJn6OArf_22m_FpeVyvXw1tQiEZTWyyL_EpsrrQqTiYQHW1/s400/IMG_2388.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 9.7 - 'Planet Earth' by Baglioni</td></tr>
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Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15533353909898449804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-52568303054866011102016-09-18T14:18:00.000-06:002016-09-18T14:18:21.047-06:00Mt. Fuji Running<div class="MsoNormal">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbJeVJJmcVcBfTX8qUMkmamlnbd2RzzmMK56NwZi6FWbW9Dkz81Kvzv0runLpj5gmX9FoijeO8vgg6wsUeAnpphPlCBDDpLOgX0VZDFEjDma1b2Wh2PZnnx7grSeJeNOpdHXuiV5he_qTg/s1600/Screenshot+2016-09-18+15.34.18.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbJeVJJmcVcBfTX8qUMkmamlnbd2RzzmMK56NwZi6FWbW9Dkz81Kvzv0runLpj5gmX9FoijeO8vgg6wsUeAnpphPlCBDDpLOgX0VZDFEjDma1b2Wh2PZnnx7grSeJeNOpdHXuiV5he_qTg/s640/Screenshot+2016-09-18+15.34.18.png" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h2>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small; font-weight: normal;">Mt Fuji-san</span></h2>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFGqfoMmV99va1g7jJI87f_Vw1KqtU21iW4QyJ84E6iFw4dClOWiWR4Vd08CyV8fSZKZ_S50v0GUM0-lq7N_jyyNk-tVpHLldvn6P7Fb9bNOucTWI86_ctNeRd6PIN7nXcxX_9VzViuNzK/s1600/IMG_2152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFGqfoMmV99va1g7jJI87f_Vw1KqtU21iW4QyJ84E6iFw4dClOWiWR4Vd08CyV8fSZKZ_S50v0GUM0-lq7N_jyyNk-tVpHLldvn6P7Fb9bNOucTWI86_ctNeRd6PIN7nXcxX_9VzViuNzK/s320/IMG_2152.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sengen Shrine - Beginning of Yoshida Trail</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt;">For some
time I have been intrigued with Mount Fuji given it’s historical, cultural and
religious significance with the Japanese. I’ve wanted to run the traditional
pilgrimage route from </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14pt;">the Fujiyoshida’s Sengen
Shinto shrine at the very base of Mount Fuji to the 12,388 foot summit. This
has proved difficult given my past travels to Japan have not coincided with the
short climbing season (July – mid September). However, this past week the stars
finally aligned and I was able to run Mt. Fuji on the last day of the official
climbing season.</span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqLfvwRk-HcEWQAN5Y-IgX_mh7m0W34O5Rp4KsMSM7ZcKe5SEhsDejU6UIIWufdwgLHnE4-pgXmHLIn5t7MLh8QZI4WQOF3JIofynWQz6wWq95gj1z8xKkeuSpgpfCQuuuhRuhVtnWY4Mb/s1600/IMG_2156.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqLfvwRk-HcEWQAN5Y-IgX_mh7m0W34O5Rp4KsMSM7ZcKe5SEhsDejU6UIIWufdwgLHnE4-pgXmHLIn5t7MLh8QZI4WQOF3JIofynWQz6wWq95gj1z8xKkeuSpgpfCQuuuhRuhVtnWY4Mb/s320/IMG_2156.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Red Pine Forest on the Lower Slopes of Mt. Fuji</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While tens of thousands of Japanese make the
trek to the top every year, the logistics of getting on a plane in Italy and
going straight to the mountain proved to be rather complex. My original
detailed plan of trains, buses, taxis and finally running to the trailhead was
thrown into flux when my flight into Narita was delayed by several hours. This
resulted in getting on unplanned trains and buses with somewhat unknown
destinations. In the end, I reached the town of Kawaguchiko at the base of the
mountain. The earned reward for 30+ hours of sitting in a variety of seats not
engineered for human comfort or health was a late evening Japanese bath
overlooking Lake Kawaguchi.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdkDBbCrGoQEkbRTdxbtbH3rcrepYTcXXr98m9M_8OQBJ3VOjvWVYVqqB1R3_l6PDzffgXF8psbCYwqtw1TqRTSaJ-CjiifGIomb5uIhe_Sx3cjdwimvIlC5LOx-wzH7hCnWGnSbDTOuQe/s1600/IMG_2163.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdkDBbCrGoQEkbRTdxbtbH3rcrepYTcXXr98m9M_8OQBJ3VOjvWVYVqqB1R3_l6PDzffgXF8psbCYwqtw1TqRTSaJ-CjiifGIomb5uIhe_Sx3cjdwimvIlC5LOx-wzH7hCnWGnSbDTOuQe/s320/IMG_2163.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">The Trail Starts to Climb</span></td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I arose early the next morning knowing I needed
to be on the trail starting at first light in order to be able to summit and
get to Tokyo for a late afternoon meeting. My plan was to catch a taxi at 4:00
am from the hotel to the train station (where I would put my bag in a locker)
and then have the taxi driver take me to the Shizuoka Sengen Jinja (Sengen
Shrine) where the original trail begins. A great plan until I learned in the
wee hours of the morning that taxis don't operate early on Sunday mornings. My
run to the top of Mount Fuji began with a walk to the train station dragging my
roller bag and then running to the outskirts of town in search of the Sengen
Shrine.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO2D5u5T7j2FcUFggbXQuA8RW7p0vOQNJ0HhHAX88qPpmeKZtcSnskr0ukGU-DHoUmxSakqYiy22cxZPGZ-0gepimk7echYiJfWXEqH3gdzxb5QqivIj3cVd7P8athT6eirYP-w34kzaHF/s1600/IMG_2200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO2D5u5T7j2FcUFggbXQuA8RW7p0vOQNJ0HhHAX88qPpmeKZtcSnskr0ukGU-DHoUmxSakqYiy22cxZPGZ-0gepimk7echYiJfWXEqH3gdzxb5QqivIj3cVd7P8athT6eirYP-w34kzaHF/s320/IMG_2200.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">3rd Station Ruins</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3sw9Aj8-EhP5JwR7TR2BGFoUo79juSDdb5gP_zYXypK6q6cZU-sZCK5YZuWl_HDdIZ-lIGst9X6-zFBBaPmN626hvvqethO7hxUxgdi7FumdNzXBnVNNGwU5TfetF4yqvbuXV2fneiglq/s1600/IMG_2165.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3sw9Aj8-EhP5JwR7TR2BGFoUo79juSDdb5gP_zYXypK6q6cZU-sZCK5YZuWl_HDdIZ-lIGst9X6-zFBBaPmN626hvvqethO7hxUxgdi7FumdNzXBnVNNGwU5TfetF4yqvbuXV2fneiglq/s320/IMG_2165.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">2nd Station Ruins</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14pt;">Once the shrine was found I went in search of
the trailhead. After several attempts of making a walking motion with my
fingers and saying Fuji-san to a number of sleepy eyed monks, I was directed to
the trailhead. I was excited about the first part of the run given that few
people now climb the mountain from the bottom. More than ninety-nine percent of
Japanese climbers start at the fifth-station, mid way up the mountain (there are ten stations from the base to the top of the mountain). In particular, I was looking forward to seeing the abandoned stations where in the past travelers drank tea and rested. </span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My expectations were met. A trail to myself and
interesting ruins to explore. The run from Sengen Shrine to the Kawaguchiko
Fifth Station was exceptional.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I reached the Fifth Station I moved into the
clouds and into the billows of people descending from the summit. Most Japanese
climb the mountain at night (resting/sleeping in the upper stations) with the goal
to summit in time to watch the sunrise. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDsBeEu9nemvxvUg_4-G3XGIX8jwWNne59LObNl8D3MSs6D6fGoyKOwHG7sopGKFgEF4rr4u7uF4DQm2NqBSPp37eaTi2Mbn_br_nA0jHS-bNeNE1hKEpsrpPwyY15LABY4jULHVJScNla/s1600/IMG_2210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDsBeEu9nemvxvUg_4-G3XGIX8jwWNne59LObNl8D3MSs6D6fGoyKOwHG7sopGKFgEF4rr4u7uF4DQm2NqBSPp37eaTi2Mbn_br_nA0jHS-bNeNE1hKEpsrpPwyY15LABY4jULHVJScNla/s320/IMG_2210.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Roped Trail</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Those of us who run trails have different
perceptions of what is difficult, challenging and possible. Yet, we often
assume everyone else is like us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I
power-hiked up the trail I was reminded we are different – the reminder being
the faces and bodies of those coming down. The expressions of anguish. The
jolting limps. The sighs, ughs and grunts as grim faced trekkers placed one
foot in front of the other. And then there were those whose faces I did not see
because they were walking down backwards due to quads that had failed them. It
felt like the morning of the walking dead. I was also saddened in that the
basic fitness of the general population is so poor – the distance from the 5<sup>th</sup>
Station to the summit only being 7km!</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">The Last Kilometer to the Top</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14pt;">I continued to climb passing stations 6 - 10, most of which were closing for the season, with station staff busy bolting boards across the windows and doors. I finally broke through the clouds and was able to see my destination above me reached by a well established trail marked with ropes that switchbacked up the open and barren volcanic slope. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<span style="clear: right; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGgzlrSWQiFYsHgk1g1QfVLg2j56smqoQPh05bsItjeM0X6ahoYJPmhmodBcZcMglXlmAuBKb8dWH1QIFsbJ5eyNK1ZVJBnZZQpvWALdJ82eypCnlbWHA5-h38O1oYlLjOD4bBxNCf9riM/s1600/IMG_2214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGgzlrSWQiFYsHgk1g1QfVLg2j56smqoQPh05bsItjeM0X6ahoYJPmhmodBcZcMglXlmAuBKb8dWH1QIFsbJ5eyNK1ZVJBnZZQpvWALdJ82eypCnlbWHA5-h38O1oYlLjOD4bBxNCf9riM/s320/IMG_2214.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">On the Summit</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;">I had originally planned to run around the rim of the crater
before descending. However, the wind was screaming on top filling my eyes with
volcanic dust making it hard and painful to see. Plus, I was cutting it close
on time and felt anxious about catching my bus to Tokyo. I descended.</span><br />
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;">A few hundred feet below the summit the clouds rolled back making
it hard to see and leaving me wet and a bit cold from all the moisture. I
amused myself of as I modified the words to </span><i style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;">Twas
a Night Before Christmas </i><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;">- </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;">“visions
of Japanese baths danced through his head.”</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;">The thought of a long soak and getting the grit out of my eyes made the
run down to the Fifth Station go fast.</span></div>
<br /></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Looking Down from the Summit</span></td></tr>
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<br /></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Bo3Jb0qlWCl1-Lkjjx_kxg4LV07t7YtMxXcTZeSaES86VgqlYFGqxc7GMox73N_juvGTnWJ8Tcl0cS6gx-PIG38i7SrVSCEple3rFz9IL9RO1igUz1P4nu2QW0v7_g073LOwaqakIFTg/s1600/IMG_3444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Bo3Jb0qlWCl1-Lkjjx_kxg4LV07t7YtMxXcTZeSaES86VgqlYFGqxc7GMox73N_juvGTnWJ8Tcl0cS6gx-PIG38i7SrVSCEple3rFz9IL9RO1igUz1P4nu2QW0v7_g073LOwaqakIFTg/s400/IMG_3444.JPG" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">A Good Day at UTMB 2 Weeks Earlier</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At the Fifth Station I decided to call it a day
and take a bus down to the base. My descending legs were still a bit creaky
from UTMB two weeks earlier and I was stressed about missing my bus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a good call in that I had time for a
nice curry lunch with a glass of sake in Kawaguchiko before jumping on a bus
for Tokyo. All-in-all, an exceptionally good day!</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15533353909898449804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-36049289923889054772016-08-25T09:13:00.000-06:002016-08-25T12:45:30.230-06:00UTMB Preparation<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizzJpG5V6BM3QNZnayUrzCFbI0O9RQCH9nRs0gftTbhfR02xillEUqfvnnRm0LyXHZOkimBCFREniBKHoqjfdUEuyo7XYJhhUfy9iwNidHuYCFQsLnTW_O7QFU4b2oLk0OX9jhIxooafsQ/s1600/image1%255B1%255D.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizzJpG5V6BM3QNZnayUrzCFbI0O9RQCH9nRs0gftTbhfR02xillEUqfvnnRm0LyXHZOkimBCFREniBKHoqjfdUEuyo7XYJhhUfy9iwNidHuYCFQsLnTW_O7QFU4b2oLk0OX9jhIxooafsQ/s320/image1%255B1%255D.PNG" width="178" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flying in Cham</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I've heard the statement many times, "there is nothing like UTMB." Until this week I just discounted that as more of the incessant rhetorical hype that causes people to avoid runners like me at parties and social events. But my experience in Chamonix the last 5 days is starting to validate this statement for me. The town is simply abuzz with running - runners themselves, families and friends, volunteers, sponsors and exhibitors, and even commerce has caught the fever with restaurants offering carbohydrate dense "UTMB specials" and every store having a "UTMB sale." In fact, too much running-themed everything with hoards of people in compression clothing, Buffs, and running packs has been a bit much for my liking. In an effort to avoid the UTMB chaos consuming Chamonix, I decided to enjoy the week with two activities where the look doesn't matter and I don't feel competitive - flying and drinking French wine (undertaken as separate and distinct activities).<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwS8XlSmzeA-93S29_BySD25b9K9EIn57gfe3IHcBD_R0eN6kIcgqnkmxFRsjBChJX5TLLaQK4T8sJl5Zd8P6eVcL9FCBdtzCBGJEZ1DmCFAf9LLHyhNmWRmAS8V7vNjUKRMyxbqzmmhj9/s1600/IMG_2068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwS8XlSmzeA-93S29_BySD25b9K9EIn57gfe3IHcBD_R0eN6kIcgqnkmxFRsjBChJX5TLLaQK4T8sJl5Zd8P6eVcL9FCBdtzCBGJEZ1DmCFAf9LLHyhNmWRmAS8V7vNjUKRMyxbqzmmhj9/s320/IMG_2068.JPG" width="291" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Salomon Gear not Required for this Activity</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieeydf4Qg30DnTwnKXUhZuM355dnGPmUmL1baNyAQNHNDTJpydKvcMlwsuyte8XEhaTiO3CSYClusMLqB6ATX3-KAAk04BXwlwE_01e8mK3JrvD0lV5Z8pnnht_LkW073BzJLfpcx98Ykd/s1600/IMG_1988.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieeydf4Qg30DnTwnKXUhZuM355dnGPmUmL1baNyAQNHNDTJpydKvcMlwsuyte8XEhaTiO3CSYClusMLqB6ATX3-KAAk04BXwlwE_01e8mK3JrvD0lV5Z8pnnht_LkW073BzJLfpcx98Ykd/s200/IMG_1988.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Good Life</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Once a storm system passed on Sunday, the weather has been stellar for paragliding. Cool nights followed by warm cloudless days has created good thermal action resulting in four days of exceptional flying weather. The perfect flying weather has been tough on the TDS and OCC runners with daytime highs in the mid 80's resulting in many wilted runners and considerable carnage. The hot weather will play a big factor in the UTMB with a high probability that many of us will be destroyed not only by the vertical - but by the heat!<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTzJ_cG8eyAxLkil8dYW13e9933qhufKGnfh6BK8qPARPQbB3CkZ3geE10FJkXXqoOe04wONXVTWZTcYjI-dwezLQAecMyPcUgynF5FxjJbZ1VTgeOqf3Hx6q0W0AZA3nxutw_zz-n24en/s1600/IMG_2062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTzJ_cG8eyAxLkil8dYW13e9933qhufKGnfh6BK8qPARPQbB3CkZ3geE10FJkXXqoOe04wONXVTWZTcYjI-dwezLQAecMyPcUgynF5FxjJbZ1VTgeOqf3Hx6q0W0AZA3nxutw_zz-n24en/s320/IMG_2062.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pack that Kite and Do it Again!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
While I arrived in Chamonix with confidence that I would have a good race given that I have been able to train in the mountains most weekends for the past three months, have twice covered the entire UTMB track, and have been consistently averaging ~100 miles per week. However, I think the big miles and vert (at least for me) combined with old age (read slower recovery) have me overtrained and potentially starting the race tired and not at my best. I remain hopeful that the cause of this feeling is a sense of inferiority resulting from not owning any compression gear, my plan to run without sticks (which oddly people seem to correlate with low intelligence), and not having any Salomon running wear. I am thinking of buying a Buff in an effort to try and understand if my insecurities are truly justified or simply gear-related.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNtRqrdUjxyTX4gd4VNf2Glva4JDD2d6Z_AY_D-87OCnu8w-_PBqbii7aBetZkd_EOK3m2Qm7r0j2iuRaYCLEAi_jZEntJot42Z9pOnMtgFeIeBolNOgYYHevJbkpuWRpKXjU5suB1LqrK/s1600/IMG_2047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNtRqrdUjxyTX4gd4VNf2Glva4JDD2d6Z_AY_D-87OCnu8w-_PBqbii7aBetZkd_EOK3m2Qm7r0j2iuRaYCLEAi_jZEntJot42Z9pOnMtgFeIeBolNOgYYHevJbkpuWRpKXjU5suB1LqrK/s320/IMG_2047.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting Psyched Out Waiting in Line with all the 'Good' Runners</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
For those interested in following the race you can<a href="http://utmb.livetrail.net/"> track runners at http://utmb.livetrail.net</a> and/or follow the race at <a href="http://www.irunfar.com/2016/08/2016-utmb-live-coverage.html#2016_UTMB_Live_Simple">irunfar.com</a><span id="goog_1376804426"></span><span id="goog_1376804427"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a> My bib is #158. Good luck to the other 2299 runners!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15533353909898449804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-54983782568225055132016-08-14T14:19:00.000-06:002016-08-14T14:22:54.367-06:00Three is the Magic NumberGood things come in three. And this could not have been more evident than over the past few weekends. I'll show you what I mean with a few words, and plenty of pictures.<br />
<br />
Week 1: Spent the week with the family in Maine, with daily hikes and visits to the beach in Acadia National Park<br />
<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4VcUJgBU5cQ5Hmj_TUbxTEc3dz08kywtghfw0PKwbRrWmTRpk2n9-TfsDddy9s29HGwaYXLm1SQ0RAWaJ_qj4bo9yn7CHQYmoVvB3M61IRT3BmT06k_ZR9tIIgEWPmn4QGVi6QQRMoU/s1600/IMG_7297.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4VcUJgBU5cQ5Hmj_TUbxTEc3dz08kywtghfw0PKwbRrWmTRpk2n9-TfsDddy9s29HGwaYXLm1SQ0RAWaJ_qj4bo9yn7CHQYmoVvB3M61IRT3BmT06k_ZR9tIIgEWPmn4QGVi6QQRMoU/s320/IMG_7297.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiking The Precipice Trail<br />
Acadia National Park</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-2naMlcC0LZPsrc1KuBrCBOsk-32j1wRer7HW0N9wdOw8k_oNFoFnRlsBA2ddhb9GLb40T2vB0vZoofF3cYWYnWT5BU50BL-BybPBSOmiYxc5khVpmjuEjND2QFDw9MwSEZsZOP0kPE8/s1600/IMG_7282.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-2naMlcC0LZPsrc1KuBrCBOsk-32j1wRer7HW0N9wdOw8k_oNFoFnRlsBA2ddhb9GLb40T2vB0vZoofF3cYWYnWT5BU50BL-BybPBSOmiYxc5khVpmjuEjND2QFDw9MwSEZsZOP0kPE8/s320/IMG_7282.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More Precipice Trail</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6PGOFLqvYuuIsV8lnn9VvJu6q9DY_uVpcmcqz5sIVqrtdWCSxziQZj96V6vQ7YXsYHlXDtj40iVUy5e7VSyTddLym993Fi7tOYdgjB_E9EEwmETN7viGMylQ4-IswFtSwef5Ou1TQPNk/s1600/IMG_7218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6PGOFLqvYuuIsV8lnn9VvJu6q9DY_uVpcmcqz5sIVqrtdWCSxziQZj96V6vQ7YXsYHlXDtj40iVUy5e7VSyTddLym993Fi7tOYdgjB_E9EEwmETN7viGMylQ4-IswFtSwef5Ou1TQPNk/s320/IMG_7218.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holding back the tide at Seal Harbor<br />
Acadia National Park</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Week 2: Traveled to Star Valley, WY for El Vaquero Loco 50 K trail race, a must do race for anyone serious about running in spectacular, high mountain locations. Ty Draney puts on one of the best, low key, high fun, family friendly events around.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglijFP1ds0rMp9DvqQyTkiC74IaOYZfqvDOk5tD6C18vb0Tdd_DmaUnnCX3AzSO3lRrBRe8Pr9EUOIGQiDO_u9Bslbjb7bZyImPmrIn7rwDnC0nmMy6po-ryvGPuUW7bAkWBsD01ohrr4/s1600/IMG_7499.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglijFP1ds0rMp9DvqQyTkiC74IaOYZfqvDOk5tD6C18vb0Tdd_DmaUnnCX3AzSO3lRrBRe8Pr9EUOIGQiDO_u9Bslbjb7bZyImPmrIn7rwDnC0nmMy6po-ryvGPuUW7bAkWBsD01ohrr4/s320/IMG_7499.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brian Rawlings heading into the beauty of the Salt River Range</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOWlNEIxIxD4wtHhqzBlgIwcky7nxwtn7JMaHPsGErU1wnb5ypOYr5nZrZqvHANDDlIRFIZKVR0ygkYd3m_uim6vMkq8m183WRP-x34HYcDCBxzm-urloqZkNX0Lu1JwQgqW3t2z6woHA/s1600/IMG_7520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOWlNEIxIxD4wtHhqzBlgIwcky7nxwtn7JMaHPsGErU1wnb5ypOYr5nZrZqvHANDDlIRFIZKVR0ygkYd3m_uim6vMkq8m183WRP-x34HYcDCBxzm-urloqZkNX0Lu1JwQgqW3t2z6woHA/s320/IMG_7520.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Corral Creek Lake</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyq3A7GJd15q-LxwmrtlD-VtRDP0zS5pQHhPURfKaDzmf0cZhiCNVvWVCPrgGRW4MC7gsUduLqrDq9sq7scvxSZ_3zJMRcOVaQ7ybTmLgn5kHly578Pe9d4BVWLmsP_JcpkqsR9DL1_T0/s1600/IMG_7518.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyq3A7GJd15q-LxwmrtlD-VtRDP0zS5pQHhPURfKaDzmf0cZhiCNVvWVCPrgGRW4MC7gsUduLqrDq9sq7scvxSZ_3zJMRcOVaQ7ybTmLgn5kHly578Pe9d4BVWLmsP_JcpkqsR9DL1_T0/s320/IMG_7518.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Found a few of these beauties while icing my legs post-race.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Week 3: With the family still out of town, I spent a couple days exploring the Uintas. Some was old territory, much was new, and it was all loads of fun.<br />
<br />
I started the trip a little late, around 11:00 am, with plans of summiting 5 of Utah's 13000 ft peaks. Due to the late start, running out of water, and not liking the idea of traversing/descending Lovenia and East Lovenia in the dark, I decided that topping out on Tokewanna, Wasatch and Wapiti(Wasatch Benchmark) would make for a good day. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfmmT2Up659TvLnZJJKeeD9OjcZGL1ElDXS4JEKS73Qua4v6jnn4x5IP_2Mu33RnSLwh161ayblacEmxC5VHFGiONCePvoHhi9-N52KjZAFgrYVvYKx84MdWQrrQsaK4GtYTR5hwfXcLk/s1600/IMG_7539.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfmmT2Up659TvLnZJJKeeD9OjcZGL1ElDXS4JEKS73Qua4v6jnn4x5IP_2Mu33RnSLwh161ayblacEmxC5VHFGiONCePvoHhi9-N52KjZAFgrYVvYKx84MdWQrrQsaK4GtYTR5hwfXcLk/s320/IMG_7539.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view of Wapiti, Lovenia and East Lovenia (R-L) <br />
from Tokewanna.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Topping out on Wasatch Peak.<br />
East Lovenia and Lovenia frame Wapiti in the middle.</td></tr>
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At Red Knob Pass, I could see the turquoise blue of Crater Lake a few miles in the distance and after discussing it's fishing possibilities with a local sheepherder, decided I'd head over there to spend the night. The fishing was indeed awesome as I couldn't keep the Brook trout off my wooly bugger, and Crater Lake proved to be a twin of Corral Creek Lake, from the Vaquero 50k the weekend before. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgptsMVfBIOgYwdxVXiqBAc6TxPd4FjFuSSUFJ1GC7eJB-5VAMvCgCUN7dGNoHUT8t-lC-D-gtnwDbrhOHVl-lPk1-ra9_lMd97Sn8z-HI4ZaoLw5oXtvb3wvwM1WyKxeCJJLF522XoziY/s1600/IMG_7666.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgptsMVfBIOgYwdxVXiqBAc6TxPd4FjFuSSUFJ1GC7eJB-5VAMvCgCUN7dGNoHUT8t-lC-D-gtnwDbrhOHVl-lPk1-ra9_lMd97Sn8z-HI4ZaoLw5oXtvb3wvwM1WyKxeCJJLF522XoziY/s320/IMG_7666.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mezmerizing.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crater Lake</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brook Trout were in abundance in Crater Lake</td></tr>
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The next morning I headed back over Red Knob Pass and made my way to Dead Horse Lake. While running the Highline trail a few years ago, we traversed Dead Horse Lake in the early dawn and I remember thinking to myself that the fishing had to be lights out in a lake as beautiful as this. Indeed, the fishing for Tiger trout was nonstop both with wooly buggers sub-surface, and on top with stimulator patterns. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOph5P87nZQnRqfHqNMempbXpa_xE6_y1cUakUOW7r5QhSlqUP6REr-XliNYOc-J8apBzUqfgSzZtIEr9QY2OoYcy3FB6y2hgp_OF2J0eJpV5MA1qp2HHy21mB1Cs5lZDKAMK2gv4oBqA/s1600/IMG_7732.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOph5P87nZQnRqfHqNMempbXpa_xE6_y1cUakUOW7r5QhSlqUP6REr-XliNYOc-J8apBzUqfgSzZtIEr9QY2OoYcy3FB6y2hgp_OF2J0eJpV5MA1qp2HHy21mB1Cs5lZDKAMK2gv4oBqA/s320/IMG_7732.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiger Trout<br />
Dead Horse Lake</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVuHwWhjjq8Z4JmkOAlHH2QZ5VMCqpr0C1_oU7bc1gztA-y0GYlAYk9_TyfbvrS0eNJQLxPRs8ic2_0L_LYiIAac9IXEs-XMPhZ9mMJIEBuSIwqJr6-wi85DALmfxZ5ueVZeYEMq4RW8Y/s1600/IMG_7681.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVuHwWhjjq8Z4JmkOAlHH2QZ5VMCqpr0C1_oU7bc1gztA-y0GYlAYk9_TyfbvrS0eNJQLxPRs8ic2_0L_LYiIAac9IXEs-XMPhZ9mMJIEBuSIwqJr6-wi85DALmfxZ5ueVZeYEMq4RW8Y/s320/IMG_7681.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mountain Bouquets were in abundance at 11000 ft.</td></tr>
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I finally pulled myself away for the 10 mile hike down canyon back to my truck. I stopped to fish West Fork Blacks Fork a number of times, and the fishing was non-stop for cutthroat in the upper reaches, and brook trout lower down.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAXyvRhZWWD0-E1WuuSOcXocI8RbarCnZoW765IT1lAvJqVb4uSAgTYIqUBdyUZ0icfBys6-g10ex5hSy3JaPvRXgOHLCUrXj_YqPoXsqLX0FUlRV-HJxWjCpjK1O40fbidMRZMdVMpWA/s1600/IMG_7735.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAXyvRhZWWD0-E1WuuSOcXocI8RbarCnZoW765IT1lAvJqVb4uSAgTYIqUBdyUZ0icfBys6-g10ex5hSy3JaPvRXgOHLCUrXj_YqPoXsqLX0FUlRV-HJxWjCpjK1O40fbidMRZMdVMpWA/s320/IMG_7735.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cutthroat were small, but plentiful.<br />
West Fork Blacks Fork</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOph5P87nZQnRqfHqNMempbXpa_xE6_y1cUakUOW7r5QhSlqUP6REr-XliNYOc-J8apBzUqfgSzZtIEr9QY2OoYcy3FB6y2hgp_OF2J0eJpV5MA1qp2HHy21mB1Cs5lZDKAMK2gv4oBqA/s1600/IMG_7732.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buck Pasture<br />
Looking upstream on West Fork Blacks Fork.</td></tr>
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All in all, a fabulous few weeks. </div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
3- Mind clearing weekends</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
3-13000 foot peaks</div>
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3-species of fish in 3 separate bodies of water. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Indeed, Three is the Magic Number.</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
(you can listen <a href="https://youtu.be/dLBx3g8cowY" target="_blank">here</a> if you'd like)</div>
<br />Erikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475889996792094050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-14536631426320753172016-07-19T12:42:00.000-06:002016-07-19T12:42:46.834-06:00UTMB Course PreviewWith UTMB just a little over a month away, I made the trek to Chamonix for a long weekend preview of the 105 mile, 32,000 foot +/- course. I'm glad I did as many of my notions of the course were 'off' including the amount of climbing and descending, the course not being as technical as anticipated, and grossly under assuming how stunningly beautiful the course is. My pictures hardly do justice to the majestic beauty of the Tour du Mont Blanc (TMB).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7-Lt9IiGsAPzP6HMmuReXLUt5FzL35EGmShuA7J5HMOjTPy4Rs6-_uFzdrXx7ie6YcdhtzoQ4DMSsTSANlT73oWV-lgF5yHj3_WhZX8NuYc-3AXd3gX_LR9m0BiSHUeNlj7DNeqzDIUcE/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-07-19+at+8.10.12+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7-Lt9IiGsAPzP6HMmuReXLUt5FzL35EGmShuA7J5HMOjTPy4Rs6-_uFzdrXx7ie6YcdhtzoQ4DMSsTSANlT73oWV-lgF5yHj3_WhZX8NuYc-3AXd3gX_LR9m0BiSHUeNlj7DNeqzDIUcE/s400/Screen+Shot+2016-07-19+at+8.10.12+PM.png" width="375" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtSpeGKwnTLBZnopD8Mm4kXRdb0yqBl4xmQE0ISn8q5W3PaUto-YNhdgEIdYSEuS65xe04LBUQl6oGmJhLaJgwnKXXW4ZMp5RzsfKGjF-E5jR5GV0dtRqQBr7IRB0TVzvOk7PqScHipKcv/s1600/IMG_1743.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtSpeGKwnTLBZnopD8Mm4kXRdb0yqBl4xmQE0ISn8q5W3PaUto-YNhdgEIdYSEuS65xe04LBUQl6oGmJhLaJgwnKXXW4ZMp5RzsfKGjF-E5jR5GV0dtRqQBr7IRB0TVzvOk7PqScHipKcv/s400/IMG_1743.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Col du Bonhomme</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ville des Glaciers</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lac Combal</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVBawlP3T4yn1KzDdYd0gYw37Q4doEm4ykWKJ00pth16UEBxbA5zdCAcX-IIjYa8wdXERvs2d5PbZDYOlPg3vtfG912dk8Ek7smm8nffmAJbMYe4KUnBJzckMM6pELAYaKY1gUitSdj_l0/s1600/IMG_1796.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVBawlP3T4yn1KzDdYd0gYw37Q4doEm4ykWKJ00pth16UEBxbA5zdCAcX-IIjYa8wdXERvs2d5PbZDYOlPg3vtfG912dk8Ek7smm8nffmAJbMYe4KUnBJzckMM6pELAYaKY1gUitSdj_l0/s400/IMG_1796.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Refuge Bonatti</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi60qkwAMTGomU79p2BGy3uqYUD8dCHgE5d2x0p7JUwmGTfj3SLfszgQs-tDlCl88l1eZUprQsADqGt5iEVUJ8MagFpi08kZ6o_EC-Fe95Me1Xr3Z_zOSnPSC3Mxgo-h51rfKsms2LdxKWg/s1600/IMG_1824.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi60qkwAMTGomU79p2BGy3uqYUD8dCHgE5d2x0p7JUwmGTfj3SLfszgQs-tDlCl88l1eZUprQsADqGt5iEVUJ8MagFpi08kZ6o_EC-Fe95Me1Xr3Z_zOSnPSC3Mxgo-h51rfKsms2LdxKWg/s400/IMG_1824.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grand Col Ferret</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBMmlzAc1ibxPTWXreRarxgtvhyphenhyphenjJNUhf0LY4wrjr5CF8bJBtPWJJ0boOZ6Ac4onouDqbUcQevszgk5WZNkqGbmwheoAKGUy4jf_qDgkWTwW2nQ2p86NRuBrPWv-JO02vTXdeOcwCmzv17/s1600/IMG_1848.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBMmlzAc1ibxPTWXreRarxgtvhyphenhyphenjJNUhf0LY4wrjr5CF8bJBtPWJJ0boOZ6Ac4onouDqbUcQevszgk5WZNkqGbmwheoAKGUy4jf_qDgkWTwW2nQ2p86NRuBrPWv-JO02vTXdeOcwCmzv17/s400/IMG_1848.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some Wildlife</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV0hW2y_Bd8rtWE9HjBTBjxNbUdb-3EUPRdUvyxc0mLlupJZ775Ev4A1iFvGMq6IZLuw5FdaoEPrRx3INWUDfe-PE0dTzbAtHF_I_smIWKAG89E4Jq7zDOtrf8iglIlXgdI7VcptldyfV2/s1600/IMG_1762.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV0hW2y_Bd8rtWE9HjBTBjxNbUdb-3EUPRdUvyxc0mLlupJZ775Ev4A1iFvGMq6IZLuw5FdaoEPrRx3INWUDfe-PE0dTzbAtHF_I_smIWKAG89E4Jq7zDOtrf8iglIlXgdI7VcptldyfV2/s400/IMG_1762.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Col des Calcaires</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15533353909898449804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-55781463678141772252016-07-01T10:54:00.000-06:002016-07-01T10:56:59.460-06:00Millwood is ON!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgifxEFcYRim1SwrCavt8eIbUmbgVTAo8BD5VWnqaB5gpWxPkVxt3Mdftybkc8YxLRh82NsdHVpYO_8R1Hre3c9tKF3obEGUu1dKXPFXpl3kmyOl1INVOLvsJTRrD5KnbbuAVIQ85Qwco4/s1600/7532548700_d7e1f6369b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgifxEFcYRim1SwrCavt8eIbUmbgVTAo8BD5VWnqaB5gpWxPkVxt3Mdftybkc8YxLRh82NsdHVpYO_8R1Hre3c9tKF3obEGUu1dKXPFXpl3kmyOl1INVOLvsJTRrD5KnbbuAVIQ85Qwco4/s400/7532548700_d7e1f6369b.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Asking myself "Why?", at the top of Mineral Fork, 2012</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Since I didn't have enough fun back in 2012 ( <a href="http://mrc-ultra.blogspot.com/2012/07/millwood-project.html">http://mrc-ultra.blogspot.com/2012/07/millwood-project.html</a> ), I'm going to tackle Millwood again starting this evening around 5:00 pm. <br />
<br />
The big difference this year is that there will be 4 of us going for it. Pete Stoughton, Ryan Tockstein and I will start around 5:30, and Jennilyn Eaton started around 10:00 am this morning.<br />
<br />
Jared Campbell , the Millwood brainchild, helped facilitate having the event tracked by TrackLeaders. They have a great program that interfaces with SPOT to show where all 4 of us are in real time. Here's the link:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://trackleaders.com/millwood16f">http://trackleaders.com/millwood16f</a><br />
<br />
We are all really looking forward to spending some good times in the Wasatch over the next couple of days. Come join the fun if you're looking for an excuse to get out this weekend!!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Erikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475889996792094050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-3724669674732657892016-06-14T13:31:00.002-06:002016-06-22T07:52:20.630-06:00Running Mount Kilimanjaro<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsVmxYmv_QLiIJ_RADw4w6soa5Ezq8PhUkZAqaTuKmmomiwU71LwfSyx7EdZ9_9F1CuJu6D75ioy1QGCZzxiBJnDOizhD7NsTq7f8RR4wqW2864H5XR6rx8Q6E1wXPzDZ_4kMREjsWNdt1/s1600/IMG_1532.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsVmxYmv_QLiIJ_RADw4w6soa5Ezq8PhUkZAqaTuKmmomiwU71LwfSyx7EdZ9_9F1CuJu6D75ioy1QGCZzxiBJnDOizhD7NsTq7f8RR4wqW2864H5XR6rx8Q6E1wXPzDZ_4kMREjsWNdt1/s400/IMG_1532.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mount Kilimanjaro</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For some time I’ve been intrigued with the
idea of running Mount Kilimanjaro. When a work trip last week had me in
Nairobi, I knew it was my chance to jump across the border to Tanzania for a
high altitude adventure.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I had no idea how complicated the idea
would be to execute until I started looking into logistics. The first challenge
was to get a permit for what is considered an unusual and exceptional request –
running from the bottom to the top and back down in one day. Park rules clearly
stipulate what routes can be used, process for acclimation, the number of
guides and porters required, and that most importantly, individuals like me are
not allowed to be on the mountain alone without a guide.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSZQ3g1e0DZo3Lw6CzRwOWoXz00guRy4nqt6v6fBulaHwaJPvF8BqftBYx1McQ0GfOSB9QjmvbhTtoC642GK1sMivnvLuVpV4fbnSquZSLrbcWPZEerZ0cDbbRQ6jDucCUFmAfAlX49RiM/s1600/IMG_1489.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSZQ3g1e0DZo3Lw6CzRwOWoXz00guRy4nqt6v6fBulaHwaJPvF8BqftBYx1McQ0GfOSB9QjmvbhTtoC642GK1sMivnvLuVpV4fbnSquZSLrbcWPZEerZ0cDbbRQ6jDucCUFmAfAlX49RiM/s320/IMG_1489.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ema of Origin Trails</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Initially I reached out to several guiding
services and the park asking if I could run to the top and was told, “that is
not allowed.” I shared that I was aware that other people in the past including
Kilian Jornet had been granted permission. I could get no explanation as to how
that was done. I then reached out to my work colleague who is the WFP Country
Director for Tanzania and he offered to approach the Minister of Tourism who
oversees the Parks on my behalf. The guidance from the Minister was that I
would need to work with a registered guide and the Park Warden of the Kilinajaro
National Park who had the delegated authority to grant me permission. My work
colleague was able through his network to connect me with <span style="color: blue;">E<a href="http://www.origintrails.co.tz/">mmanuel (Ema) Motta of Origin Trails</a></span> who agreed to seek a permit on my behalf. After several weeks
of back and forth with the Park, me writing letters and providing bona fides
that I had the experience to safely climb the mountain in a day, a permit was
granted.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="text-align: center;">In consultations with Ema we decided that I
would ascend on the Rongi Route and descend via the Mweka Route. While the Park
Service had originally stipulated that I would need to have guides with me the
entire way, Ema was able to agree to having porters at key camps who could
assist if needed and a guide at the top with oxygen. I would also be required
to check-in with the ranger at each of the camps I would pass. Otherwise, I
would be on my own!</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhftz_gWuDrYgvM_ltWHdTt2s9deChignq189uccykXGOBiTaEowMuQEvCKV5e3-Y1TnaS3TctL6yyNbTGtTHlmaLxqBDyclunAAZefSElQ8RhnE6Zb6CbIG-hRqn8vn4bEWw33Qg0YYmqc/s1600/IMG_1509.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhftz_gWuDrYgvM_ltWHdTt2s9deChignq189uccykXGOBiTaEowMuQEvCKV5e3-Y1TnaS3TctL6yyNbTGtTHlmaLxqBDyclunAAZefSElQ8RhnE6Zb6CbIG-hRqn8vn4bEWw33Qg0YYmqc/s320/IMG_1509.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Justin Salakana - "Founder" of the Rongi Route</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The afternoon before the start we drove to
the Rongi Gate, stopping along the way to pick-up my permit (which required
several hours of 11<sup>th</sup> hour negotiations between Ema and the Park
warden) and some food for breakfast (including wonderful bananas and avocados bought
along the side of the road). We spent the evening at the Snow Cap Lodge, some
simple cabins built by the pioneer of the Rongi Route, Justin Salakana, who
shared stories of how he created the route and finally had it approved by the
Tanzanian authorities. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">At 6:00 the next morning I signed-out with
the Ranger at Rongi Gate, who was not happy about getting up at 6:00 am, and I
was off at 6:15 in the first light. The Rongi route starts at 6,398 feet and
slowly climbs through a pine plantation. While the first miles were gradual, I
was moving slowly given the kit required to be self supported and prepared for
inclement weather on top, and night out if something went wrong. My pack
weighed in slightly north of 13 pounds – much of that being the 3.2 liters of
water I was carrying. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTCzUyjqby8b53vw_5PXOfcyhpqfssJEOgWapD2FnENExfdqeVEaoQqbYpUOdF9vrjAd_HkzwiMq0IMjt5n3BGwNAvs5vhC0FTyz1-o38L4SW0KjN2WfGaZERZuPFI3x_xQkA4a4CW5IUu/s1600/IMG_1506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTCzUyjqby8b53vw_5PXOfcyhpqfssJEOgWapD2FnENExfdqeVEaoQqbYpUOdF9vrjAd_HkzwiMq0IMjt5n3BGwNAvs5vhC0FTyz1-o38L4SW0KjN2WfGaZERZuPFI3x_xQkA4a4CW5IUu/s400/IMG_1506.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beginning of the Trail Through a Pine Plantation</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgamfePqKlPqcGUxFai9gDMVorwN2AlUS-_yyjMeTHCDZBIoa-XkZCgEt2wJhdV2SD6CGhIU8NvmXmRFBLA_Lg68Fou7sLD3GowHSjB3uG-h-FFudZireR2-gp4mgaGheAvMXkoprwNNd3l/s1600/IMG_1515.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgamfePqKlPqcGUxFai9gDMVorwN2AlUS-_yyjMeTHCDZBIoa-XkZCgEt2wJhdV2SD6CGhIU8NvmXmRFBLA_Lg68Fou7sLD3GowHSjB3uG-h-FFudZireR2-gp4mgaGheAvMXkoprwNNd3l/s400/IMG_1515.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Through the Moorlands</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10QjrgTMeRfXijYBjxjmrnhAqLmg8TEoDIpC4rQQeOs2EsqfdOieAEpFB7PbsxjpKFwnGdwtE2QnZ5Jc6P2NS1g7ajvExN3OH6k685Jw2bSfoUH30xcoN_SGLnv518gIhJj6_4_JeyKVO/s1600/IMG_1512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10QjrgTMeRfXijYBjxjmrnhAqLmg8TEoDIpC4rQQeOs2EsqfdOieAEpFB7PbsxjpKFwnGdwtE2QnZ5Jc6P2NS1g7ajvExN3OH6k685Jw2bSfoUH30xcoN_SGLnv518gIhJj6_4_JeyKVO/s400/IMG_1512.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First Site of the Destination</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLRKB0GpHN_HYS5z7KTJW3ZU5cGtyXyMZdDoopib3eXWyYXPbnPvz-_WIK7tL01t_m4GxUgp-qw_t4cjAeJMtxuyNfcWtMFKCSqnHPtmtJAU9Z2oBqacef1M0mLEwFeMUfp76k30nBMW-b/s1600/IMG_1521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLRKB0GpHN_HYS5z7KTJW3ZU5cGtyXyMZdDoopib3eXWyYXPbnPvz-_WIK7tL01t_m4GxUgp-qw_t4cjAeJMtxuyNfcWtMFKCSqnHPtmtJAU9Z2oBqacef1M0mLEwFeMUfp76k30nBMW-b/s400/IMG_1521.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moonscape of the Alpine Desert</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8PN9jmMUBfn931kiT2IoH4mKUSTITqYqNSZaFboBg6nAO_fUD5DoswsAs347Jgoi3SP117xAO7CxgXjeeljr4Zpbdio_aLKJkbbpB-S5RWqVDQb_RWriVZPtSfETK8LSRBIBiTZb1sUPz/s1600/IMG_1524.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8PN9jmMUBfn931kiT2IoH4mKUSTITqYqNSZaFboBg6nAO_fUD5DoswsAs347Jgoi3SP117xAO7CxgXjeeljr4Zpbdio_aLKJkbbpB-S5RWqVDQb_RWriVZPtSfETK8LSRBIBiTZb1sUPz/s400/IMG_1524.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Looking East to Mt. Mawenzi</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US">As one climbs on the Rongi Route, one moves
into the moorlands. Then without realizing it, all vegetation was gone and I was
running through an alpine desert that resembled a moonscape. I was able to run
most of the way up to Kibu Hut, with the exception of intermittent pitches
where running took too much energy. I reached Kibu Hut (15,430 feet) at about
10:00 where I was required to have my blood oxygen checked. I came it at 79%, well
above the minimum of 70% required to proceed to the top. From Kibu Hut to Gilman’s
Ridge it was a trudge. While I could feel the altitude, the real challenge was
the steepness of the trail. Even at a lower elevation the grade and scree would
have been <o:p></o:p></span>a calf-burning chug.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglLcVeBX63Dv7xdahlPcJE_89yNNJCqz8K9d7RbXOl9bCR5u4pk3thy5om_tReZHcx9XmgP02H7uEPftQbLydlTVcRhqOtFeglj7pjvUFi6JafYxq4HnKF8hjiqyG1qH7fuyjVqu9WOVdk/s1600/IMG_1528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglLcVeBX63Dv7xdahlPcJE_89yNNJCqz8K9d7RbXOl9bCR5u4pk3thy5om_tReZHcx9XmgP02H7uEPftQbLydlTVcRhqOtFeglj7pjvUFi6JafYxq4HnKF8hjiqyG1qH7fuyjVqu9WOVdk/s320/IMG_1528.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moses Up Ahead on the Way to the Summit</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">At 18,652 feet I hit Gillman’s Ridge and
was able to run the flat sections along the rim of the crater as I worked my
way up to Uruhu Peak (19,341). While the altitude made even a slight grade very
hard to run, I was surprised that running the flat sections was not
particularly difficult. I felt lucky that I had no nausea, headache, or mental
slowness. As I looked down on the clouds thousands of feet below and the wall
of the Decken Glacier and Southern Ice field beside me, I felt alive and lucky
to be having this experience. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">As I approached the peak, I met Moses who
was waiting in the lee of a large rock below the summit to make sure I was safe
and provide any assistance if needed. We snapped a few quick pictures. It was
too cold on top without a jacket to linger so I said to Moses, “Let’s blow this
popsicle stand.” Moses jogged with me along the crater rim and for a few
hundred meters after I dropped down the Mweke Route.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-7gpbJmsmqkCxqE6s19nFgQJGlcVXgk-EZn9Np2hcYcsGHcQvcTcWbCLOz3lBcobBx3JGdaBh-TGV0-5nBjeoqi6JsNFUpdFmq-COZVOEi0JTZNsR_cUcauXWVPJ5T9Ng2mvBrVPNQM7/s1600/IMG_1539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-7gpbJmsmqkCxqE6s19nFgQJGlcVXgk-EZn9Np2hcYcsGHcQvcTcWbCLOz3lBcobBx3JGdaBh-TGV0-5nBjeoqi6JsNFUpdFmq-COZVOEi0JTZNsR_cUcauXWVPJ5T9Ng2mvBrVPNQM7/s400/IMG_1539.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking Down at the Southern Ice Field and the Clouds Below</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I started to descend I suddenly realized
getting down would be harder than getting up. I was running sloppy (maybe I was
in denial about the effects of the altitude) on the descent and had a hard time
keeping my feet under me in the loose rock and scree. I took several “safe into
home” slides when my feet went out from under me. Then after a face plant where
I was saved by my gloves and front pack from serious lacerations, I knew I had
to get it together. I decided to stop and sit on a rock to clean out my shoes,
have a gel, and compose myself. I started repeating, “pole, pole” (slow, slow
in Swahili) to myself as I picked my way down the steep descent to Barafo Camp.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1RRLOpVVHojOX2eAi7_7aSBIA_eweAnyE0QEvd6yJVMauA9kGc6aoo1UONzUo5tTp9wanAQjoHR1Ad6x4ex2Zw3dqZ6rBJwIBxWUkLpGGZIn_ZoORzXwR20BgsLYLoGdpFaEtIUhPAvDz/s1600/IMG_1504.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1RRLOpVVHojOX2eAi7_7aSBIA_eweAnyE0QEvd6yJVMauA9kGc6aoo1UONzUo5tTp9wanAQjoHR1Ad6x4ex2Zw3dqZ6rBJwIBxWUkLpGGZIn_ZoORzXwR20BgsLYLoGdpFaEtIUhPAvDz/s320/IMG_1504.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Self-Supported FKT (the actual time was 9:19)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">In my mind I thought I would be able to
reach the Maweka Gate in less than two and half hours from the top. It took me
three hours. I had grossly under anticipated what 14K feet of non-stop technical
descent would do to me. It tore the bottoms off my Hokas, it left my quads
shaking, and I was a site for concern as blood from both my scrapped knees and
thighs had me looking like I had been in a traffic accident (though – one
could say I was a train wreck). When I reached the rain forest for the final 6
miles, as named, it was raining and both the rock and hardpack were super
slick. When I should have been running and daydreaming, I was having to
concentrate on keeping one foot after the other underneath me. I fell
repeatedly.</span></div>
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<br />
<span lang="EN-US"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6UxbWxswipUzgieITYKff_EcaC_yEpetoSdela-zObowD5JQaYx2iZ7fxDIW31gY4rfqX9SnRZmqfSOWKuaE9d-2L5gCopDGmpMfECrxNznHRJ3K4WsY9JOVoqEh1Ec4L4YancIqHoSXs/s1600/IMG_0204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6UxbWxswipUzgieITYKff_EcaC_yEpetoSdela-zObowD5JQaYx2iZ7fxDIW31gY4rfqX9SnRZmqfSOWKuaE9d-2L5gCopDGmpMfECrxNznHRJ3K4WsY9JOVoqEh1Ec4L4YancIqHoSXs/s320/IMG_0204.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ema Greeting me at Mweka Gate</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I reached the Mweka Gate where Ema was
waiting for me. Elapsed Time 9:21. Two minutes longer than the self-supported
FKT held by Tanzanian mountain guide Simon Mtuy. Could I have gone faster? A
few seconds less at the top, a shorter break to compose myself, more abandon on
the descent, pushing harder on the ascent to Gilman’s Ridge where every step
was effort - would have done it. Yet, I had the experience of a lifetime being
on the mountain alone (and on the peak alone) and </span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-fI2IB6VtWnwL2aXR5HbMjLR0_t1NDwkc10tF7lwqbUpFvpx9183foZO09Kp9bx0ewZP4aYhnR-2x70oi0wXa1dcpUnLIDRUptDdMhb7PwWnr4e697Vm5i9exIugsq4FgQfbtPXjSWkSL/s1600/IMG_0207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-fI2IB6VtWnwL2aXR5HbMjLR0_t1NDwkc10tF7lwqbUpFvpx9183foZO09Kp9bx0ewZP4aYhnR-2x70oi0wXa1dcpUnLIDRUptDdMhb7PwWnr4e697Vm5i9exIugsq4FgQfbtPXjSWkSL/s320/IMG_0207.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Checking the Stats</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">answering the question could
I run at 19,000+ feet (YES), and being able to say I ran up Mount Kilimanjaro. It
was the experience, not the time that mattered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">A big thanks to Ema for making this all
happen and not believing I was a nut job when I first contacted him saying I wanted
to run up Kilimanjaro self-supported in less than 12 hours. Without him, this
adventure would have never happened. Thank you Ema.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15533353909898449804noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-12423072533296409712016-05-01T12:18:00.000-06:002016-05-01T12:18:12.907-06:00Amalfi Coast Running<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ipyacKZuSUdjRHC2BrP9eEa2X9S8pkxwmeOBEc7GHjadGNiG4TPiZwB6ehXfKV3iopDqcYcQjwIUgLY6phcb24GWo0mD8n96xGI-ijhmrhen6cJbB6vXpG15T0NaQQpC6uxaeOrZ6ETS/s1600/IMG_2684%255B1%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ipyacKZuSUdjRHC2BrP9eEa2X9S8pkxwmeOBEc7GHjadGNiG4TPiZwB6ehXfKV3iopDqcYcQjwIUgLY6phcb24GWo0mD8n96xGI-ijhmrhen6cJbB6vXpG15T0NaQQpC6uxaeOrZ6ETS/s400/IMG_2684%255B1%255D.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Amalfi Coast</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It's been some time since I posted. I usually enjoy the exercise of trying to distill running adventures and races into words, both for the benefit of personal reflection as well as to share my doings with friends and family back in the States. But as of late, I've failed to make the effort or find the time.<br />
<br />
Today I said "enough." While on a stunning run along the Amalfi Coast I made the commitment to at least post a few pictures, and if feeling exceptionally motivated, perhaps some accompanying words. So here's my torpid effort....<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji2gmGDBe2gD-iGbWwr60gChYAv7iEUYaCpJ2OTO-Kh0iuECuv_YibpaRzN9aRST21lWos-fNJ-SZJ6Yyi0LN1wUY59i_3iWnlJhNepXUic3cJQi-QAxSrJOjbLUxSO_K2UXNCbj6ORVfO/s1600/IMG_9384-%2528ZF-1502-06924-1-005%2529+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji2gmGDBe2gD-iGbWwr60gChYAv7iEUYaCpJ2OTO-Kh0iuECuv_YibpaRzN9aRST21lWos-fNJ-SZJ6Yyi0LN1wUY59i_3iWnlJhNepXUic3cJQi-QAxSrJOjbLUxSO_K2UXNCbj6ORVfO/s400/IMG_9384-%2528ZF-1502-06924-1-005%2529+copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crazy Desert Trail 50K</td></tr>
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<br />
First, a bit of a recap of the past several months. A work trip to the States back in March straddled a weekend. This invariable led to a search for a trail race. The Crazy Desert Trail 50K in San Angelo provide a perfect opportunity to run the engine in preparation for the 100 Miles of Istria in April. I've been feeling healthy this year and without too much effort was able to run a 4:01. Could 2016 be a good year for me??<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHo-Wmk0rJzT5P7eLTbccMm3VrWGNzBu3zY5wJBcJZana2tAgESXsxtTpvWv8uFbFZQ_nX2KKav_IAROk59qo6LiCoxIueu0LCzrRRXAzjVgpPVy4N8F92V70s1GnpOjbxIcc8t6oG6vVj/s1600/12977186_647784668703505_1616232110366437003_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHo-Wmk0rJzT5P7eLTbccMm3VrWGNzBu3zY5wJBcJZana2tAgESXsxtTpvWv8uFbFZQ_nX2KKav_IAROk59qo6LiCoxIueu0LCzrRRXAzjVgpPVy4N8F92V70s1GnpOjbxIcc8t6oG6vVj/s400/12977186_647784668703505_1616232110366437003_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Next was the 100 Miles of Istria in Croatia. This is one of my all time favorite trail races. While the course on paper does not look particularly challenging (106 miles with 23,400 ascent, 24,300 descent), I find it hard. While I felt better prepared this year than in past years, the race left me worked and disappointed in my time (20:25). While I know I am capable of going under 20 hours on this course, my legs were just not used to the descending. Again I found myself moving slowly the last 20 miles and missing that mark. Return in 2017??<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoPHu4i0dLigBu9wahmtwBc78F-MYLwGQxGGkb1H7Xs6d8ZmGH77N5e5EK1nyZFENslluxXpmG13y1XjK8VSiXo9dEO8O-5ktsedlv5zVjlrN1OuO6zMzXxgeOFnc7otCx-4i86OT8Pa6e/s1600/12998281_647690045379634_3587494462122529671_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoPHu4i0dLigBu9wahmtwBc78F-MYLwGQxGGkb1H7Xs6d8ZmGH77N5e5EK1nyZFENslluxXpmG13y1XjK8VSiXo9dEO8O-5ktsedlv5zVjlrN1OuO6zMzXxgeOFnc7otCx-4i86OT8Pa6e/s400/12998281_647690045379634_3587494462122529671_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
So with 100 Miles of Istria still haunting me, this weekend I was in desperate search of vertical knowing UTMB is just three months away. The Amalfi Coast did not disappoint with 9430 vertical on Saturday and 8550 on Sunday. Enjoy the pictures....<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwO4d_6R6-28Ov0OPBY1EPnhdl6NZj1LKljFsX-LZSK_Nvs4SGDXVX33RLG0JuyET-rDYfTiFP6EB55u5zP8YQYazzpSkvv9ePYv8OVeFDcIP2B-0wmlFop9-uW6kdAUNTStKc1IEznDev/s1600/IMG_2727.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwO4d_6R6-28Ov0OPBY1EPnhdl6NZj1LKljFsX-LZSK_Nvs4SGDXVX33RLG0JuyET-rDYfTiFP6EB55u5zP8YQYazzpSkvv9ePYv8OVeFDcIP2B-0wmlFop9-uW6kdAUNTStKc1IEznDev/s400/IMG_2727.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yep - Got to Climb That for Giggles</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_J8TZ3uANpXLltbiBFzmrciyUDQCFfWeDoFQgLQ2xMk3RZXZqqOYNQZA1QR8kEzK5Rdzo4YQ5hVd0HbfDbiSb4MNCk4CrWuWBZBw-EcQjWRINEr5k_lTDO_QQQNfhrqoLR99JPMWMIY-p/s1600/IMG_2722.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_J8TZ3uANpXLltbiBFzmrciyUDQCFfWeDoFQgLQ2xMk3RZXZqqOYNQZA1QR8kEzK5Rdzo4YQ5hVd0HbfDbiSb4MNCk4CrWuWBZBw-EcQjWRINEr5k_lTDO_QQQNfhrqoLR99JPMWMIY-p/s400/IMG_2722.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some Fine Single Track</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyyiMCo7OvwIrOjgrBDngGQPfGDqg8x_R23EJ9-sMTlhvj_Pe2lV0GEMlb3NvI9wluR_QPxAYGq68bYc7h3QxT8u2G87TCs4Gl0NukEuAGuxqBn1PLOdhVG-WTfN5wpThh2LNcyqZxVXIi/s1600/IMG_2716.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyyiMCo7OvwIrOjgrBDngGQPfGDqg8x_R23EJ9-sMTlhvj_Pe2lV0GEMlb3NvI9wluR_QPxAYGq68bYc7h3QxT8u2G87TCs4Gl0NukEuAGuxqBn1PLOdhVG-WTfN5wpThh2LNcyqZxVXIi/s400/IMG_2716.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trail Meandering Through Vineyards</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLDhias2MZj9MWzHlCX9MEo_-R1dlDOeurbpXqqzx8ARsB374zwdmoD48WseAakgYrVNL2f6ZRMNfA4gy6AAKr5YBXXY3tgkLlU-35AtLnfwh0hTociiilo1vk7y4krdAgQexV7Rd_wbOp/s1600/IMG_2710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLDhias2MZj9MWzHlCX9MEo_-R1dlDOeurbpXqqzx8ARsB374zwdmoD48WseAakgYrVNL2f6ZRMNfA4gy6AAKr5YBXXY3tgkLlU-35AtLnfwh0hTociiilo1vk7y4krdAgQexV7Rd_wbOp/s400/IMG_2710.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1700 Stairs - They Got to be Good for Something</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyVRtwpEGSd__hhqnytpLtEvI6yHNFIiBziTOkdwQOBZUdABlfvYn1Tyw0Ki0TA2javGYWDuX5O9I7ZOlwNFKn4O94F6Ddicv3v6zo3LisLjynRP1-E-xJWzUqDJYMmQsp73OPbPAbcR-c/s1600/IMG_2712.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyVRtwpEGSd__hhqnytpLtEvI6yHNFIiBziTOkdwQOBZUdABlfvYn1Tyw0Ki0TA2javGYWDuX5O9I7ZOlwNFKn4O94F6Ddicv3v6zo3LisLjynRP1-E-xJWzUqDJYMmQsp73OPbPAbcR-c/s400/IMG_2712.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Path of the Gods</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdKIwKs19VqDiupwwH2Dyg1R3NqJhU0lG8P8YEijn_BlZ1raw0x4Eg7fEM1ybKHLUVJ9GJFTNmpe8bb5brafbLV_sSmGmjwmHSUhAczvs3qWN0HohOa-D51wJSt-poMeDU28hJwj3v22DZ/s1600/IMG_2733%255B1%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdKIwKs19VqDiupwwH2Dyg1R3NqJhU0lG8P8YEijn_BlZ1raw0x4Eg7fEM1ybKHLUVJ9GJFTNmpe8bb5brafbLV_sSmGmjwmHSUhAczvs3qWN0HohOa-D51wJSt-poMeDU28hJwj3v22DZ/s400/IMG_2733%255B1%255D.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grape-Based Energy Drink at the End of a Wonderful Day!</td></tr>
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Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15533353909898449804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-29101020936233143272016-04-15T22:34:00.003-06:002016-05-03T16:35:37.318-06:00The Experience. My Barkley Report 2016<br />
<i>“The idea isn’t to go out and have an “experience.” It’s not to do one, two, or even three loops, and then say ‘it was tough, I gave it my all, and Barkley won.’ The idea is to finish. The goal is five loops, and there’s really no room for any thought other than that.” </i><br />
<i> – Me (<a href="http://trailandultrarunning.com/embracing-monotony/" target="_blank">Embracing Monotony</a>, published in <a href="http://www.trailandultrarunning.com/" target="_blank">TAUR</a> March 30, 2016) </i><br />
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Famous last words, right?<br />
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I made it 1 ½ loops, then dropped due to intense knee pain, walking a slow, frustrating, seven-miles back to camp, via “Quitters Road.” Turns out, Barkley gave me exactly what I had snubbed with the above words—an experience. An experience that ultimately surpassed any pre-conceived expectations or dreams present upon arrival. An experience that was soul-searching, eye-opening and awe-inspiring.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The Yellow Gate</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">with license plates from everywhere</span></div>
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The weekend in Frozen Head State State Park made me aware of a few “Barkley Truths:”<br />
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<b>Being there</b>—regardless of your ambitions or goals, just being there is a one-of-a-kind opportunity. I met Rhonda-Marie, the first blind entrant and one of very few women to set out. With the aid of a guide, she made it through four books and some incredibly rough terrain. Starchy, Brad and Kim had the time of their lives during their thirty-two hour first loop. Hometown hero, John Kelly inspired everyone (Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram followers included) by promptly laying down for a nap, just outside of camp, after starting his beleaguered fifth loop. When he woke, he looked back at camp, only 100 yards away, then turned his back and shambled up the road – a very conscious decision to keep moving, beyond the pain we all felt with him. Just remembering this heroic effort gives me the chills...<br />
<b>Barkley isn’t just a race</b>—in fact, it’s not a race at all. It’s a…a…wait for it…, yep, an experience. It is submitting a license plate from my home state as part of my entry fee. It’s sitting next to "veterans" and “virgins” alike, staring at the Master Map, gleaning little tidbits of precious information, trying desperately to commit them to memory while transcribing map details and determining compass bearings. It’s wondering if I dare eat a piece of famous, digitally prepared, Barkley chicken as a pre-race meal. Luckily, it was dark as I tore it apart, so I couldn’t really tell if it was still frozen in the middle. It’s reading through wildly subjective course descriptions like, “Book Five is found at the top of the knoll, to the right of the big hollow log, nestled under the medium-sized rock with the smaller rock leaning on it.” The medium rock with the smaller rock leaning on it… Can it get more ambiguous? It’s sitting by the campfire with other “Barkers” who’ve also tapped out, sharing stories of wrong ridges, endless wanderings looking for the book that seemed so easy to find on Loop One, wondering if it’s the second or third confluence of the creek that I’m staring at. It’s forming a bond unlike any other with people who were complete strangers twenty-four hours ago. Thrashing through the hills and hollers of Frozen Head State Park for hours, then days tends to have that effect. Barkley is an experience.<br />
<b>Barkley is family</b>—I witnessed this as the nearly mythical Barkley names were brought to life. Laz, Frozen Ed, Limacher, Little, Stu, Hiram…the list goes on. As the names became real, they also became people who were incredibly fond and incomparably supportive of each other. I immediately felt myself as a member of their family. I could walk into any campsite, sit next to any fire, and instantly feel like I was sitting down at a kitchen table at home. Stories swapped, advice dispensed and snatched, and jokes were plentiful. Family.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaC4ImXBN_ofGAUCHAP8QP49BwmWyEV2udMicvllBD4gkLvS42J7H8nHSY2Z0XWJ_M1bikWjx1stWQ1oQGDjhMSDpYRyugtjwJYkuFs1674XUfin079prmEmCox1a5mfrCaTIEsWkGg6E/s1600/IMG_5498.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaC4ImXBN_ofGAUCHAP8QP49BwmWyEV2udMicvllBD4gkLvS42J7H8nHSY2Z0XWJ_M1bikWjx1stWQ1oQGDjhMSDpYRyugtjwJYkuFs1674XUfin079prmEmCox1a5mfrCaTIEsWkGg6E/s320/IMG_5498.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stark Beauty. <br />
It was seldom that we actually went straight along a ridge like this.</td></tr>
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As for my actual time on the course, I’ll try and keep it brief, because it was brief—well, relatively. I told Laz at the end of Loop One that the previous ten-hours were the most fun I’d enjoyed on trails in many years. And I wasn’t lying. I told others the same.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirneij3ptYkdd26WGVnN7ZsZCCcCyJ-KdmLRkIwKHCMXoyWjxsDh6pu7bl8IuoqkT-7Ir06qgFaJ4L-IvFCVvA9R2Abt4OMPJ-qV-N6Qa5LIT8FgehqR9_QFymVXTE8ResuzqaWa7H5rw/s1600/IMG_5498.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>“The Cigarette” lit at 10:42 a.m. We relaxed into a good rhythm up Bird Mountain, and by the time we got to the top of the first climb, I had settled in with Ty Draney (fellow virgin), Jason Poole (veteran), and George Kunzfeld (veteran). With a few others adding and subtracting over the next few hours, our group stayed together and made a good, functional team. Jason is a National Orienteering Champion, George had participated the year before, and Ty was excellent at picking out landmarks and committing them to memory for future laps. I felt wildly fortunate to “be along for the ride.” Still do.<br />
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We descended nasty ridges; crossed creeks and swampy areas, trying unsuccessfully to keep our feet dry; climbed interminable hills; and then did it again, and again…and again. Names I’d read over and over in race reports and Frozen Ed’s book came to life. Rat Jaw, The Garden Spot, Leonard’s Butt Slide, Big Hell, Chimney Top... We got turned around a couple times. I took off after John Fegyveresi, descending off Fyke’s Peak and promptly got scraped, spending the next thirty-minutes thrashing down to New River through the wrong drainage, luckily discovering myself reunited with Jason, Ty and George. Though I felt strong on the last big climb of Loop One, towards Chimney Top, an occasional stab on my left knee’s medial side had already begun. “No biggie,” I thought, as many of us do. “Aches always come and go, and I’ll have many more in the hours ahead.”<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Xz5RkoJKsg_HQFah-DD5ld5ShZLWcVrUnfUjaN3DPAEMGyBZKMeQsS8CQVCVf3ZFLrydcK5rRZ0vhYI5S7ldPqHTlj01WQ-TlyYG4W7MnndvSCMgsLXTswJMPeMQB-iQJiBiGCF4LyA/s1600/12923196_10153691594267739_6724004118348207028_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Xz5RkoJKsg_HQFah-DD5ld5ShZLWcVrUnfUjaN3DPAEMGyBZKMeQsS8CQVCVf3ZFLrydcK5rRZ0vhYI5S7ldPqHTlj01WQ-TlyYG4W7MnndvSCMgsLXTswJMPeMQB-iQJiBiGCF4LyA/s320/12923196_10153691594267739_6724004118348207028_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Erik and Ty heading back down Rat Jaw on Loop 1<br />
PC: Leon Lutz</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
We made a smooth, and swift twenty-minute transition into Loop Two, with my brother Steve attending to a nasty laceration on my backside. I caught up to Ty and Jason, who had left camp a few minutes before me and we made good time back up Bird Mountain. The thrash down to Book One was indeed a thrash, as I realized just how different it was navigating in the dark. Over the next two climbs and descents, while still feeling strong with good energy, the stabbing in my knee became more and more severe, changing from an occasional twinge to a constant, acute, throbbing pain. By the time we got to the top of Bald Knob, I was slowing Ty and Jason down and putting most of my weight on my right leg and two trekking poles. I took some ibuprofen and told myself I’d decide what to do when I got to The Garden Spot.<br />
<br />
Well, the ibuprofen took care every other little ache I had, but did nothing to diminish the pain in my knee. Having had debilitating ankle surgery two-years ago, the thought of permanent damage to my knee and starting down that same path was convincing. I decided my time at Barkley was over. True to form, the Barkley ate its young.<br />
<br />
I told Ty and Jason I was done, and while expressing sympathy and concern, they didn’t try and talk me into continuing, for which I am grateful. It was hard enough as it was. Standing in the middle of the trail, I waged my internal battle of disappointment and watched their lights fade over the next ridge. “Am I being smart, or just a wuss? I’ve invested so much time and energy! My family has sacrificed so much while I trained. I have so many friends, well-wishers, supporters back home who... I DON’T WANT TO GO THROUGH SURGERY AGAIN! I WANT TO KEEP GOING!!! I am not a quitter...” My emotional war waged on, playing over and over in my mind as I stood in the trail, immobilized while trying to decide if I’d made the right decision. “Screw it!!!” I screamed into the Barkley night, and started running after Ty and Jason, only to be brought to a stumbling halt by the unseen icepick stabbing my knee. I sat slowly in the middle of the trail and cursed my knee, cursed Barkley, sobbing into the night.<br />
<br />
Two a.m., and after ten-minutes of self-pity I pulled myself up, put on a pair of pants and jacket, and spent the next hour with map and compass riddling how to get myself to Quitters Road, the infamous path that most Barkers take for “our” long walk down. Three and a half hours later, Laz greeted my arrival at the Yellow Gate (the infamous Barkley starting point and resting place of many Barker's dreams). With a genuine air of concern, he asked what had happened (remember Barkley Truth #3 about family). He commented how surprised he was to see me since I had looked so strong and positive leaving for Loop Two. He then said, “The bugler’s asleep, so I’ll have to tap you out.” Laughing, I asked if I could play my own taps, and we both enjoyed a brief chuckle. As instructed, I turned towards camp and played myself the worst rendition of Taps I think the Barkley has ever heard. Much like my attempt at Barkley, my attempt at Taps quickly began to sputter, until I let loose a final, feeble note to pitter out over the sleeping camp. My Barkley was over. My entire statement about “The goal is five loops, and there’s really no room for any thought other than that” remains the same—in Laz’s words, “Two things are worth remembering: 1) you will never achieve great things with small goals; and 2) there is no guarantee you will have another chance tomorrow.” The goal is still five loops, just not this year.<br />
<br />
Thinking back on the experience a week later, my thoughts continue. “Am I disappointed?” Yes, and no. Perhaps frustrated is a better word. I prepared myself as best I could, in all aspects required for a successful attempt, and still my body didn’t hold out. This is what the Barkley does. It brings everyone to their knees. It’s good for the soul to be humbled now and again. Despite the sacrifices made in order to train and prepare, the past few months have been incredible. I have established new, and re-established old friendships; and had fun with my family as I prepared. I was surrounded by beauty while making my way through Tennessee’s southeastern hills and hollers, beneath barren branches, newly tipped by millions of emerging leaves—a summit sunset on Chimney Top; the ghostly, white petal Trillium flowers shining bright as my headlamp hit them in the moonless dark; and the vivid bloom of hundreds of Redbuds and Dogwoods are absolutely stunning, permanent etchings in my mind. I will forever be profoundly grateful for my experience and for the beauty tucked among the saw briars everywhere I looked.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5bh-nUS70GK4tJ2fzysJj5Yu_BNEiOrNBerjsbBeayc_tyCQgpUoQB9aaWKQYRl_sgBJ1cmYUHkqoWMJLRsodBDR7pxeKYakF7mU9tdFkh0Aobd6l-3RIL180j1TUCjIxuivT7ip6_A8/s1600/IMG_5478.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5bh-nUS70GK4tJ2fzysJj5Yu_BNEiOrNBerjsbBeayc_tyCQgpUoQB9aaWKQYRl_sgBJ1cmYUHkqoWMJLRsodBDR7pxeKYakF7mU9tdFkh0Aobd6l-3RIL180j1TUCjIxuivT7ip6_A8/s320/IMG_5478.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
.<br />
<br />
<br />
Thank you Barkley. Thank you Tennessee. And mostly, thank you Brooke, Sam, Andrew, Kate and Henry—for unconditionally loving and supporting me. Thank you to other friends and family who motivated, encouraged, woke at three a.m. with me, and believed in me. Thank you Laz, for creating the opportunity, and affording me my first try. Thank you <a href="http://www.altrarunning.com/" target="_blank">Altra</a>, <a href="http://www.trailandultrarunning.com/" target="_blank">TAUR</a>, <a href="http://www.wasatchrunningcenter.com/" target="_blank">Wasatch Running Center</a>, <a href="http://www.firstendurance.com/" target="_blank">First Endurance</a>, <a href="http://www.gregorypacks.com/" target="_blank">Gregory Packs</a>, and <a href="http://www.2toms.com/" target="_blank">Blistershield</a> for providing top-notch equipment to train and race and my peak ability. And thank you to a loving God, for giving me two strong legs and a body that have taken me on such marvelous adventures, and a mind that can tell that body to take a break and survive to run another day.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3q5q_wc7YqYXakDAqfWm1WG_-JqnPNVlSAIL1FPOWoJxfKII_8D6YkKapWMTK9FDECrv_A3gJWjsoThCBLLBetG8etNhcHqifRP3FwrftE_0M04ALBZlUzEX4zzM4AggS9JwzqNdJDKI/s1600/IMG_5441.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3q5q_wc7YqYXakDAqfWm1WG_-JqnPNVlSAIL1FPOWoJxfKII_8D6YkKapWMTK9FDECrv_A3gJWjsoThCBLLBetG8etNhcHqifRP3FwrftE_0M04ALBZlUzEX4zzM4AggS9JwzqNdJDKI/s320/IMG_5441.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My headquarters, and my Inspiration.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYf_5quRDjPmSEYhyxfrP4aJpG5h38yWTj-Kw_6vPqgS1u1k_MZy0p9VA_tKK8v4ijZiy8yuKvsCoeCKKLE69Vj5UWm_NxOOpnhqRNw3jzjTQ_ueZb4xuG67gIXUZ65KMWaiTFqlFHAcg/s1600/IMG_5510.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYf_5quRDjPmSEYhyxfrP4aJpG5h38yWTj-Kw_6vPqgS1u1k_MZy0p9VA_tKK8v4ijZiy8yuKvsCoeCKKLE69Vj5UWm_NxOOpnhqRNw3jzjTQ_ueZb4xuG67gIXUZ65KMWaiTFqlFHAcg/s320/IMG_5510.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down on Upper Rat Jaw, <br />
waiting for Jared and Gary on Loop 5.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Erikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475889996792094050noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-81065310367113390682016-03-12T21:17:00.000-07:002016-03-12T21:23:49.256-07:00When Nightmares become Reality<pre style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Segoe UI', 'Segoe UI Web Regular', 'Segoe UI Symbol', 'Helvetica Neue', 'BBAlpha Sans', 'S60 Sans', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.299999237060547px; white-space: normal;"><pre style="font-family: 'Segoe UI', 'Segoe UI Web Regular', 'Segoe UI Symbol', 'Helvetica Neue', 'BBAlpha Sans', 'S60 Sans', Arial, sans-serif; white-space: normal;"></pre>
<pre style="font-family: 'Segoe UI', 'Segoe UI Web Regular', 'Segoe UI Symbol', 'Helvetica Neue', 'BBAlpha Sans', 'S60 Sans', Arial, sans-serif; white-space: normal;"></pre>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ogwf8LMY85P0RP0r7QlHMw3UOI8hkO7R2aUbc5virg9FLFoY-rA-Nd6qHDRXLFJsYRkxqtNm7mg5Ur6Mpbj8It_zTzCa7QEkyl7oakEmiv-DfHigFRBhSFLBXtbAlXByPZJ0dQD-Jd0/s1600/DSCN1156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ogwf8LMY85P0RP0r7QlHMw3UOI8hkO7R2aUbc5virg9FLFoY-rA-Nd6qHDRXLFJsYRkxqtNm7mg5Ur6Mpbj8It_zTzCa7QEkyl7oakEmiv-DfHigFRBhSFLBXtbAlXByPZJ0dQD-Jd0/s400/DSCN1156.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Yellow Gate
PC: Sherpa John</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<pre style="font-family: 'Segoe UI', 'Segoe UI Web Regular', 'Segoe UI Symbol', 'Helvetica Neue', 'BBAlpha Sans', 'S60 Sans', Arial, sans-serif; white-space: normal;"></pre>
<pre style="font-family: 'Segoe UI', 'Segoe UI Web Regular', 'Segoe UI Symbol', 'Helvetica Neue', 'BBAlpha Sans', 'S60 Sans', Arial, sans-serif; white-space: normal;"></pre>
<pre style="font-family: 'Segoe UI', 'Segoe UI Web Regular', 'Segoe UI Symbol', 'Helvetica Neue', 'BBAlpha Sans', 'S60 Sans', Arial, sans-serif; white-space: normal;">Yesterday, I received an email that began as follows:</pre>
<pre style="font-family: 'Segoe UI', 'Segoe UI Web Regular', 'Segoe UI Symbol', 'Helvetica Neue', 'BBAlpha Sans', 'S60 Sans', Arial, sans-serif; white-space: normal;"><i>
</i></pre>
<pre style="font-family: 'Segoe UI', 'Segoe UI Web Regular', 'Segoe UI Symbol', 'Helvetica Neue', 'BBAlpha Sans', 'S60 Sans', Arial, sans-serif; white-space: normal;"><i>dear eric;
</i></pre>
<pre style="font-family: 'Segoe UI', 'Segoe UI Web Regular', 'Segoe UI Symbol', 'Helvetica Neue', 'BBAlpha Sans', 'S60 Sans', Arial, sans-serif; white-space: normal;"><i>it is my unfortunate duty to inform you that your name has been selected for the 2016 barkley marathons, to be held on april 2-4, 2016, at frozen head state park, in the state of tennessee, usa.
it is anticipated that this enterprise will amount to nothing more than an extended period of unspeakable suffering, at the end of which you will ultimately find only failure and humiliation.</i> </pre>
<pre style="font-family: 'Segoe UI', 'Segoe UI Web Regular', 'Segoe UI Symbol', 'Helvetica Neue', 'BBAlpha Sans', 'S60 Sans', Arial, sans-serif; white-space: normal;"></pre>
<pre style="font-family: 'Segoe UI', 'Segoe UI Web Regular', 'Segoe UI Symbol', 'Helvetica Neue', 'BBAlpha Sans', 'S60 Sans', Arial, sans-serif; white-space: normal;">And the encouragement continues for a few more paragraphs......</pre>
<pre style="font-family: 'Segoe UI', 'Segoe UI Web Regular', 'Segoe UI Symbol', 'Helvetica Neue', 'BBAlpha Sans', 'S60 Sans', Arial, sans-serif; white-space: normal;"></pre>
<pre style="font-family: 'Segoe UI', 'Segoe UI Web Regular', 'Segoe UI Symbol', 'Helvetica Neue', 'BBAlpha Sans', 'S60 Sans', Arial, sans-serif; white-space: normal;">It all started a few months ago when I wrote the following essay, as part of my application to be considered for entry to the Barkley Marathons:</pre>
<pre style="font-family: 'Segoe UI', 'Segoe UI Web Regular', 'Segoe UI Symbol', 'Helvetica Neue', 'BBAlpha Sans', 'S60 Sans', Arial, sans-serif; white-space: normal;"></pre>
<pre style="font-family: 'Segoe UI', 'Segoe UI Web Regular', 'Segoe UI Symbol', 'Helvetica Neue', 'BBAlpha Sans', 'S60 Sans', Arial, sans-serif; white-space: normal;">
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<i><b>WHY I SHOULD BE
ALLOWED TO RUN THE 2016 BARKLEY MARATHONS</b><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Why? <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I’ve thought long and hard on what I should write for this
essay. Should I make a list of all my
running and physical accomplishments?
Should I be clever and witty? Maybe I could wax long about my incredible
mental toughness? An idea would be to detail the rigorous, strenuous and over
the top training program that I am putting myself through to prepare. Did I mention that I am friends with Jared
Campbell and he will surely enlighten me with his top secret, sure-fire,
guaranteed recipe for Barkley success?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>The reality is, I really have no business attempting the
Barkley Marathons. I’m not more talented
than most of the runners, I don’t have an extra-ordinary amount of grit and
gumption (compared to everyone else “Out There”), my training program is probably
less involved than most, and while Jared is a good friend, his only top secret
advice is to be down to earth and brutally honest about how difficult The
Barkley is and what his own short comings are.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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</div>
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<i>I have been intrigued with Barkley since Jim Nelson first
told me about it while we ran a portion of my first Wasatch 100 together in
2005. I have dreamed (nightmared) about
it since Jared told me he would be attempting it for the first time in
2012. I shed tears and shared in the
accomplishment of some incredible feats of endurance as I read your <a href="http://www.mattmahoney.net/barkley/14laz1.txt" target="_blank">Tethered</a>
report of John, Jamil and Alan completing a Fun Run with minutes to spare in
2014. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<i>And that is the
moment, while reading Tethered, walking a slow, painful, 2 mph, ankle
reconstruction recovery pace on a treadmill in my basement, that is the precise instant, when I knew
that one day, through your graces or not, I would stand at the Yellow Gate,
ready to get the living hell squeezed out of me.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>That is Why.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>
</i></div>
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The lottery was held, and I found myself at #11 on the wait list. That's a pretty good spot to be in, but there was no guarantee that it would get me there. I started training like I was in, and as the weeks went by, I began to wake in the middle of the night, with feelings of panic, wondering what in the world I was doing, putting myself into this situation, and how I would ever be prepared. </div>
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Which brings me to last night.<i> </i>The Letter of Condolences. And that's when the Nightmares became Reality. </div>
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</div>
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If you don't know much about the Barkley Marathons and would like to learn more, here is an <a href="http://www.mattmahoney.net/barkley/" target="_blank">excellent website</a>, and here is an excellent <a href="https://youtu.be/n-V8x0hQXA4" target="_blank">20 minute documentary</a>. </div>
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<!--EndFragment--></pre>
</pre>
Erikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475889996792094050noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-64017386148471812302016-01-02T14:16:00.005-07:002016-01-02T14:59:50.740-07:00Thoughts on Gratitude<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Well folks, it's a new year, with new hopes, expectations, realities and ambitions. One of my hopes, I won't say the word GOALS, is to become more grateful. It is to develop the ability to say thank you naturally, without thinking of it, and in an uncontrived way. I believe, as do thousands of other happy people, that being grateful and giving thanks leads to a happier, more fulfilling and meaningful life. Below I've condensed a talk I gave in early 2015. I hope you take to heart the challenge to work on your Attitude of Gratitude.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">An Attitude of Gratitude is not an easy thing to develop. I am inclined to take for granted the sun on
the leaves on a spring morning, that I have two legs to walk with, and that at
any given time, Brooke will have a bunch of perfectly ripe bananas ready for me
in the kitchen, even though even saying the word banana makes her throw up a
little in her mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">But,
if we manage to turn on the gratitude a little, and do it enough, the
psychological research suggests that gratitude might just become a habit.</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">If you’re one of those highly grateful people,
of which I’m sure 2 of the 3 people that read this are, then
ignore this and go back to scrolling Facebook,</span><span style="color: #262626;"> </span><span style="color: #262626;">But,
if you’re more like me, here are a few tips on how develop an “Attitude of
Gratitude.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>1st: Once
in a while, think about death and loss.</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Didn’t see that one coming, did
you? I’m not <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">just</span> being
perverse—contemplating endings really does make you more grateful for the life
you currently have, according to several studies. When you find yourself taking
a good thing for granted, try giving it up for a little while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Try binging on Reese’s Peanut Butter cups for
a few days. Then try giving them up for a week or two before having another
one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From personal experience I
guarantee it tastes a lot better after a bit of abstinence than after the
binge.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b>2nd: Take time to smell
the roses</b></span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">And the freshly baked bread, the
smell of freshly cut grass, whatever gives you pleasure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Loyola University psychologist Fred Bryant
finds that savoring positive experiences </span><span style="color: #262626;">makes them stickier in your brain,
and increases their benefits to your psyche—and the key, he argues, is
expressing gratitude for the experience. That’s one of the ways appreciation
and gratitude go hand in hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
adaptive humans, we will become accustomed even to the good things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we do, their subjective value starts to
drop; we take them for granted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s
the point at which we might give them up for a while- be it chocolate, a good
run in the mountains, or even something like sunlight- and then take the time
to really savor them when we allow them back into our lives.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;"><b>3rd: Take the good things as gifts, not birthrights</b></span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What’s the opposite of gratitude?
Entitlement—the attitude that people owe you something just because you’re so
very special. The antidote to entitlement, is to see that we did not create
ourselves—rather, we were created- by a loving Heavenly Father. Likewise,
we are never truly self-sufficient. Humans need other people to grow our food
and heal our injuries; we need love, and for that we need family, friends, and even
pets.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><b style="color: #262626;">4<sup>th</sup>: Be
grateful to people, not just things</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A few paragraphs ago, I
mentioned gratitude for sunlight and bananas. That’s great for me—and it may
have good effects, like leading me to think about my impact on the
environment—but the trees just don’t care. Likewise, the sun doesn’t know I
exist; that big ball of flaming gas isn’t even aware of its own existence, as
far as we know. My gratitude doesn’t make it burn any brighter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That’s not true of people—people
will glow in gratitude. Telling Sam he did great at his swim meet might make
him happier and it can strengthen our emotional bond. Telling Brooke thanks for
keeping me well stocked with bananas can reaffirm to her my appreciation for
the little ways she shows me she loves me. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;"><b>5<sup>th</sup>: Mention the pancakes</b></span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Grateful people are habitually
specific. They don’t say, “I love you because you’re just so wonderfully
wonderful!” Instead, the really skilled grateful person will say: “I love you
for the pancakes you make when you see I’m hungry.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My
mother-in-law is a great example of this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She is a master thank you note writer. I have never received a note
saying “Thank you for the birthday present.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was the best”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s always
specific.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Thank you for the wonderful
scarf and gloves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They will keep me warm
on my early morning walks.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Finally: Thank outside
the box</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here’s who the really tough-minded,
Graduate-level grateful person thanks: the boyfriend who dumped you, the homeless
person who asked for change, the employer who fired you. “It’s easy to feel
grateful for the good things. No one ‘feels’ grateful that he or she has lost a
job or a home or good health or has taken a devastating hit on his or her
retirement portfolio.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In such moments,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>gratitude becomes a critical cognitive process—a
way of thinking about the world that can help us turn disaster into a stepping
stone. If we’re willing and able to look, we can find a reason to feel grateful
even to people who have harmed us. We can thank that boyfriend for being brave
enough to end a relationship that wasn’t working; the homeless person for
reminding us of our advantages and vulnerability; the boss, for forcing us to
face new challenges.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To illustrate this last point, let
me relate a short story a friend of mine recently experienced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Barkley Marathons are held the beginning of
April every year in Frozen Head State Park in the backwoods of Tennessee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It consists of an approximately 20 mile loop run 5 times in
alternating directions for a total of around 100 miles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is over 60,000 feet of climbing. There
is typically a combination of rain, freezing temperatures, hot sun, dense fog
and everything in between. The route is not marked, is only revealed to the
participants a few hours before the event begins, and there are no aid stations
or pacers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since it’s inception in 1991
only 14 runners out of more than 800 starters have completed the 100 mile race
within the 60 hour cut off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the
slightly off kilter sport of long distance endurance events, the Barkley is the
ugly step child.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">Jared Campbell showed up in April 2014 for his third attempt.</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 20.25pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #262626;">Psychiatrist Nassir Ghaemi says that most people “have what
psychologists call "positive illusion"—that is, they possess a mildly
high self-regard, a slightly inflated sense of how much they control the world
around them.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">Jared, in a sense, is not normal and is able to distort the
reality of the world so that he does have control in the very real and
difficult world around him. In his words ”There are lessons in life that
can only be learned through fairly massive deviations from our normal,
comfortable routines. These lessons alter our perspective on life and better
equip us to deal with life’s unforeseen challenges. They can sharpen our
optimism and generate a deeper appreciation for the simple things in life.” As
Jared attempted each of the 5 loops, he looked for the positive, something to
hold onto, something to be grateful for, the silver linings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here are the silver linings he was grateful
for on each loop</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Loop
1-The silver lining of wet conditions at Barkley is that you slide through saw
briars far easier. I focused on that.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Loop
2-The silver lining of the pain “in both my achilles tendons was that it forced
me to ascend in creative ways, which spread the wear-and-tear out over my body.
It would also make switching shoes for lap three something to look forward to.
I focused on that.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Loop
3-The silver lining of snow on the course meant I could more easily see and
follow my footprints from the previous lap. I focused on that.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Loop
4-The silver lining to cold temperatures during Barkley is that you can wear
pants, which means you have protection from the briars and poison ivy. I
focused on that.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Loop
5-The silver lining to warm weather at Barkley is that the footing is much
better. I focused on this.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Being
grateful while <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in</i> the darkest hours
of his race, Jared became the 14<sup>th</sup> person to ever finish the Barkley
marathons.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">My
favorite quote ever is by President Gordon B. Hinckley, one of the most
optimistic, grateful people I can think of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He says, <b>"</b></span><span style="color: #424242;"><b>In all</b></span><span style="color: #424242;"><b> of living, have much fun and laughter. Life is to
be enjoyed, not just endured."</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #424242;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It
is my hope that we can be grateful while <i>in</i>
our circumstances, that we can focus on the silver linings, and that we can
laugh and enjoy life. Above all, I sincerely hope that we will recognize God’s handiwork in this marvelous tapestry of life and
thank Him for all that he blesses us with. </span></span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There you have it. Try to say thank you, in a unique way, at least once a day. If you're feeling particularly ungrateful, then fake it. Over time, it will become a habit, and the world will be a better place.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifNPRsEzi36743XBscHyKQD5M5Gh9NW7cXBqcRxQzZAtyseNfhSPvca9dAHojFl02An_Gj-DWJjwvesduWW0eQqiOEmAbJZzHxu9KwLbtasurcZBoT4lj0k8fRgeC_GWLYIb_LvDTVPhs/s1600/IMG_2189.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifNPRsEzi36743XBscHyKQD5M5Gh9NW7cXBqcRxQzZAtyseNfhSPvca9dAHojFl02An_Gj-DWJjwvesduWW0eQqiOEmAbJZzHxu9KwLbtasurcZBoT4lj0k8fRgeC_GWLYIb_LvDTVPhs/s320/IMG_2189.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I'm grateful for Sunshine </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">on a miserable day of </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">February Salt Lake Inversion</span></div>
Erikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475889996792094050noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-44739615443290928512015-08-24T11:13:00.000-06:002015-08-24T11:26:16.132-06:00Dolomites Running<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZtR9dCjBeF-Iloi1RDJqhJZ3HQ_dQJZW82I63PFXUridFqb1jMGuNG60ed3NEq_a1S8ZlXwl9LSIbsBmTnPf2J4mPy2WI8ZzxtNcT5su8uCt5GarLO-fBy-HZTvx2YGffKafqQxITXAWW/s1600/WP_20150816_040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZtR9dCjBeF-Iloi1RDJqhJZ3HQ_dQJZW82I63PFXUridFqb1jMGuNG60ed3NEq_a1S8ZlXwl9LSIbsBmTnPf2J4mPy2WI8ZzxtNcT5su8uCt5GarLO-fBy-HZTvx2YGffKafqQxITXAWW/s400/WP_20150816_040.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down Val Travenanzes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">This past
weekend, in a frantic effort to get some miles and vertical in preparation for
the Wasatch Front 100, I headed north to the Dolomites for the Ferragosto
holiday. While Italy has many great mountains, most would agree that the
Dolomites are the greatest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK_cY8ka5vI0Rmc2ZHZ3vuhQgkSEe14iXQmmwE-MuyaDYfpIr6PJMdt5CN7np501wKKuHiQ2chLF4Ng2akEPn36Et698H-p2a-LW-0mPmhg3Gfyg975PtQEtLO3MWlsbYGASjwf2ztDX-k/s1600/WP_20150815_006%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK_cY8ka5vI0Rmc2ZHZ3vuhQgkSEe14iXQmmwE-MuyaDYfpIr6PJMdt5CN7np501wKKuHiQ2chLF4Ng2akEPn36Et698H-p2a-LW-0mPmhg3Gfyg975PtQEtLO3MWlsbYGASjwf2ztDX-k/s400/WP_20150815_006%255B1%255D.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Refreshment Along the Way</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPfvxgOgZCUt-OSlnc-Pt4KZ_jTFf1E-cJJtGAw_BLXvoY_LO9eeRswghakyK8WaxNPNGjlsUH9MymbT36Jez2MRBZub-luVTBIvogH7DfkGVc03q577yy88AmiwoUkH7qunTrOJ-Md44J/s1600/WP_20150816_029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPfvxgOgZCUt-OSlnc-Pt4KZ_jTFf1E-cJJtGAw_BLXvoY_LO9eeRswghakyK8WaxNPNGjlsUH9MymbT36Jez2MRBZub-luVTBIvogH7DfkGVc03q577yy88AmiwoUkH7qunTrOJ-Md44J/s320/WP_20150816_029.jpg" width="179" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Austrian Trenches on Lagazuoi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Why? Just as
great is usually defined by a unique set of characteristics, that in
combination, create something unequivocally remarkable. The character set for
the Dolomites would include a high density of narrow, deep and long canyons,
sheer rock faces often manifest in pinnacles and spires, ample streams rivers and
waterfalls, and a network of trails including the highest concentration of via
ferrata routes in the world. Then of course one needs to add alpine villages
surrounded by verdant pastures, strategically located refugios with caloric
sustenance, historical military fortifications from when these mountains were
the front line in a stalemate between the Italians and the Austro-Hungarians
during WWI, and a bus network that allows one to move with ease through a 6000
square mile all-season playground. “Greatest” seems to be well<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8233718949866996577" name="_GoBack"></a>
justified!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cinque Torri</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">In the words
of Reinhold Messner, local boy and hero, “they [Dolomites] are </span><span style="color: #46413a; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "PT Sans"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">not
the tallest mountains in the world, yet they are definitely the greatest.”</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cinque Torri as seen from an Austrian Gun Position</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #46413a; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 19px;">My base for the weekend was Cortina, an alpine town with a Tyrolean feel. From here I was able to explore. Enjoy some pictures from four days of running.</span></div>
<span style="text-align: center;"> </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Austrian Positions as seen by the Italians on Cinque Torri</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Forcella Lagazuoi</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing to the top of Groda Negra</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUvIuD-BeqhNsOw-YL8vlWB1ORJP0GVMbiSvlC9UhQ8p84x6IbxrxfcT0terUVkPNZimP8KaNAU9Q5FVo8cP5vwW2ktesOhftkp-kZ-avkrDumZ6RrKIRs1_dGMn1r0pZDbsIqXVvI9HES/s1600/WP_20150816_061%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUvIuD-BeqhNsOw-YL8vlWB1ORJP0GVMbiSvlC9UhQ8p84x6IbxrxfcT0terUVkPNZimP8KaNAU9Q5FVo8cP5vwW2ktesOhftkp-kZ-avkrDumZ6RrKIRs1_dGMn1r0pZDbsIqXVvI9HES/s400/WP_20150816_061%255B1%255D.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cortina</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<br /></div>
Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15533353909898449804noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-19274737409136441012015-07-12T23:17:00.000-06:002015-07-13T06:55:11.904-06:00Running, ALIVE!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Path between Wayuu Communities</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">We all have them. Maybe not often enough.
But if we had them with greater frequency perhaps we would not appreciate them
the way we do. You know what I’m talking about – those runs when </span>you feel completely ALIVE!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I had one of those runs this morning in La
Guajira, Columbia. The Department of La Guajira comprises the northern tip of
Columbia – sandwiched between the Atlantic Ocean and Venezuela. It is not a
friendly or inviting land – rainfall is scarce owing to the powerful </span><span style="text-align: center;">rain shadow created by the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, wind is a constant, the
equatorial sun strong, and rebel groups and drug traffickers largely control it.
Not the likely place for a great run.</span></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Wanting to beat the heat I
departed Riohacha, a sad little coastal town (interesting in that is mentioned
several times in <i>One Hundred Years of Solitude</i> and <i>Love in the Time of Cholera)</i>
in the early morning darkness and headed out of town with the objective of
completing 50K without wilting, getting lost, or kidnapped for ransom. The
stakes were higher than in a typical run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I knew that if anything went wrong the run could quickly turn into a
suffer-fest, or worse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq9ebFpHQ3jQLZs0x3JG7F8Z5XaZtti3j9Dqp7eKwSr9vM1GnyKvgrGl1qysLeKvVu-bYLD70JU5Fkw_QRGhwLPOYSoBsBRwavzTJxLTanBs4MeLrxYpzw3YSt3qb3lDEkUq7XAZnGuqrd/s1600/IMG_1956%255B1%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq9ebFpHQ3jQLZs0x3JG7F8Z5XaZtti3j9Dqp7eKwSr9vM1GnyKvgrGl1qysLeKvVu-bYLD70JU5Fkw_QRGhwLPOYSoBsBRwavzTJxLTanBs4MeLrxYpzw3YSt3qb3lDEkUq7XAZnGuqrd/s400/IMG_1956%255B1%255D.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fishing Boat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US">First I traveled along the coast, watching
fishermen taking their boats out to sea at first light. Then, I crossed some
coastal plains where the local Wayuu were harvesting salt. From there I moved
into the desert where I followed the tracks between Wayuu communities The Wayuu
live as extended families on their communally owned ancestral lands which are
generally several kilometers apart to prevent mixing of their goat herds. The Wayuu in general have not migrated to towns, preferring to live on their ancestral lands relying on subsistence agriculture and raising goats. They are well know for their woven handicrafts which provide some cash income. What is notable is that is has not rained for 17 months. </span><span lang="EN-US">Life at present is very hard for the Wayuu.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wayuu Salt Works</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span lang="EN-US">The light, the sounds, the intensity of the
sun, the stunning landscape and my curiosity about the Wayuu people intensified
my senses, gave me courage to push outside my comfort zone, and kept me
intently present. I was ALIVE! Enjoy a few pictures of an amazing run.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrJ5ubedIZMxQVxL2v2vsEK6WZFH-WIBFCzILeIrSDPQtvzEn71-YYHohTxvXw050EiVhQDbzYIIWEDzCc8wSeJ1ikhyphenhyphen2qp8hanGFywm9EUdMvy_qnvs4dYrOt_KK4BMt5oORouKrhZLD/s1600/IMG_1981.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrJ5ubedIZMxQVxL2v2vsEK6WZFH-WIBFCzILeIrSDPQtvzEn71-YYHohTxvXw050EiVhQDbzYIIWEDzCc8wSeJ1ikhyphenhyphen2qp8hanGFywm9EUdMvy_qnvs4dYrOt_KK4BMt5oORouKrhZLD/s400/IMG_1981.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Desert Track</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_S6jCFHDTuNPx_492LIF9sD9EdFzQRDqTiufSqH_wpZqhsjOO7u-GuujACy4nDJTycKhKSjujBtkpcahjCUnjhyphenhyphenrX9DWe0T79-a8ZG4KHNQyknD1zCG9ubFl_DfFeGpXIzj2uUG7n-Hfn/s1600/IMG_1999.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_S6jCFHDTuNPx_492LIF9sD9EdFzQRDqTiufSqH_wpZqhsjOO7u-GuujACy4nDJTycKhKSjujBtkpcahjCUnjhyphenhyphenrX9DWe0T79-a8ZG4KHNQyknD1zCG9ubFl_DfFeGpXIzj2uUG7n-Hfn/s400/IMG_1999.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Salt Flats (not quite like ours)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_SHwfIFANNAN39Wz44Fnpx14GSJ3_t6LTewwUGRhcRbANSoVK6vTY4_qxYCfgry-4p5-gggvf0linQXQlpDHDN384dZExgYBclZcycMg1ywkMCV5Ojk1Jm9wWg3GJX8vJvibNd5MUPN07/s1600/IMG_2010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_SHwfIFANNAN39Wz44Fnpx14GSJ3_t6LTewwUGRhcRbANSoVK6vTY4_qxYCfgry-4p5-gggvf0linQXQlpDHDN384dZExgYBclZcycMg1ywkMCV5Ojk1Jm9wWg3GJX8vJvibNd5MUPN07/s400/IMG_2010.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grazing?? Chivo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6qChLvNvO8xik5WufNrpdaA5bjcvkJhCN00ufMYhskvjFwV2Ci1TMfcwMgnYSeSAHJ4QTdEf0e6t0CaLbltdruVUPF0CJaRqtiFWLWz4vjPBm0OsKvWwyYUFDN-1FxUsoUFNOGEg1xjXX/s1600/IMG_2013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6qChLvNvO8xik5WufNrpdaA5bjcvkJhCN00ufMYhskvjFwV2Ci1TMfcwMgnYSeSAHJ4QTdEf0e6t0CaLbltdruVUPF0CJaRqtiFWLWz4vjPBm0OsKvWwyYUFDN-1FxUsoUFNOGEg1xjXX/s400/IMG_2013.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goat Corral</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9MHt8gVaRk0T69kiGSXpTHzJCVF2KWQipGWMH-lCwNLhqM2st5AacsSaQJafjxMz1nQpLGw17qcI8DmX-rOGTlRtxAQCxgpJTtA0cVRQdvS5RCBu_CHWzx5QdrSuF0X0CbzhxVw2r_ro0/s1600/IMG_2029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9MHt8gVaRk0T69kiGSXpTHzJCVF2KWQipGWMH-lCwNLhqM2st5AacsSaQJafjxMz1nQpLGw17qcI8DmX-rOGTlRtxAQCxgpJTtA0cVRQdvS5RCBu_CHWzx5QdrSuF0X0CbzhxVw2r_ro0/s400/IMG_2029.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wayuu Rancheria</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyk8N7fLpDeJlODrh3HEwWm3e_wSZWxB6MfeyT0UU0IF1BMUaZBozbWKnf90rnvAIdXbHXiV99waUQ6cjz7Y7lhN3X0DCoMXJ_Ew2WAS2y-MFOBPQyZTTmMu31ZntNnS8EqD1VU7WNpZQL/s1600/IMG_2034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyk8N7fLpDeJlODrh3HEwWm3e_wSZWxB6MfeyT0UU0IF1BMUaZBozbWKnf90rnvAIdXbHXiV99waUQ6cjz7Y7lhN3X0DCoMXJ_Ew2WAS2y-MFOBPQyZTTmMu31ZntNnS8EqD1VU7WNpZQL/s400/IMG_2034.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Effects of the Drought</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15533353909898449804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-70843877812838769122015-06-28T12:31:00.000-06:002015-06-28T12:31:09.406-06:00Grand Sasso PlaytimeThis past weekend I was able to make my first trek of the summer season to Gran Sasso National Park for some superb trail running. For day one I decided to circumnavigate Corno Grande (2912 meters) & Corno Picolo (2655 meters) and for bonus fun summit Gran Corno. Distance 30 miles with 11k vert. Day two was a run out the ridge from Campo Imperatore then a descent down to Fonte Cerreto and back up to Campo Imperatore. Distance 16 miles with 6K vert. It felt good to be back in the mountains and on trails.<br />
<br />
Some pictures so you can see just how excellent the running is in Gran Sasso.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR9zNaMouAcUcVipuDOHFjSDarBJDWgtG7u0ysLgOlBsrv9GOECid044WUnZWLuDfYv0z0Dxp_L2cH3o-wWyDCeZDgq6eVktQjou4UxBvqflpQDS9SqLtg9PDpPOmyZM9TaSemvXR8M8UP/s1600/IMG_1890.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR9zNaMouAcUcVipuDOHFjSDarBJDWgtG7u0ysLgOlBsrv9GOECid044WUnZWLuDfYv0z0Dxp_L2cH3o-wWyDCeZDgq6eVktQjou4UxBvqflpQDS9SqLtg9PDpPOmyZM9TaSemvXR8M8UP/s640/IMG_1890.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Corno Grande (left) Corno Piccolo (right)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMQZ0W8rWuiu_biZ6H49kfGsAkuUsPI8nJWaPoVT-xGdzSCmrEBa8ZB7Bu9XTDljngLS68X0q5p4d-2dSDeg1wDB1j7Abah1kHn8v_tu7fkVCwbKPdbmzzTgOB6aeSgTIzmx9qL4GJWE-i/s1600/IMG_1885.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMQZ0W8rWuiu_biZ6H49kfGsAkuUsPI8nJWaPoVT-xGdzSCmrEBa8ZB7Bu9XTDljngLS68X0q5p4d-2dSDeg1wDB1j7Abah1kHn8v_tu7fkVCwbKPdbmzzTgOB6aeSgTIzmx9qL4GJWE-i/s640/IMG_1885.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An Old Farmhouse on the Grasslands </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cables to Help Old People Like Me on the Technical Stuff - Nice!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__hg-xGuVwcmVA5edSPre60nHdAmVDXP7xE4dKkpNS4onkOearvhc1IpiFeQbtOTxur8tpH17HKiSjWliZmqP7F8BFkX-UQCGL4hUjCTh2kBst4DI7-PJ7s00mJ3s2IPId-eBV_K-e9G9/s1600/IMG_1908.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__hg-xGuVwcmVA5edSPre60nHdAmVDXP7xE4dKkpNS4onkOearvhc1IpiFeQbtOTxur8tpH17HKiSjWliZmqP7F8BFkX-UQCGL4hUjCTh2kBst4DI7-PJ7s00mJ3s2IPId-eBV_K-e9G9/s640/IMG_1908.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Corno Piccolo (Is that a nice looking peak or what??)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4tKaEYUrlGFvnLu52lCTaQVKeQQcMf4HMugqUF1edcOr0bdNTqpCEvKiYXEcsHt9SvXhE3qaTFRnMcyDhDwfCNZs2ZrV-KT4PefEKRnr8PBUMIvs7f_4MPh7wPNpsl5dhslZm7_hg0rvP/s1600/IMG_1914.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4tKaEYUrlGFvnLu52lCTaQVKeQQcMf4HMugqUF1edcOr0bdNTqpCEvKiYXEcsHt9SvXhE3qaTFRnMcyDhDwfCNZs2ZrV-KT4PefEKRnr8PBUMIvs7f_4MPh7wPNpsl5dhslZm7_hg0rvP/s640/IMG_1914.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pizzo Intermesoli (2635 meters)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfgK6hzCR-CVaE0FGTZo7044HdMIQrdw9Y-hd0wb3jBDO7BiA9OT140Tdz2n9_iuBKZktAYgNBoO0a8quNBJ3GUBBrbwMNZg9JllLF103cD_Vbr9q-3UGI4TnSfo4HPXZYwg2VC34j_xG/s1600/IMG_1916.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfgK6hzCR-CVaE0FGTZo7044HdMIQrdw9Y-hd0wb3jBDO7BiA9OT140Tdz2n9_iuBKZktAYgNBoO0a8quNBJ3GUBBrbwMNZg9JllLF103cD_Vbr9q-3UGI4TnSfo4HPXZYwg2VC34j_xG/s640/IMG_1916.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rifugio Campo Imperatore at the Main Trailhead. This Place Rocks - 3 course dinner, a carafe of wine, lodging and breakfast for just Euro 45 - and the Trailhead is Right Outside the Door! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Following the Ridge out from Campo Imperatore</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaqnotvpNVlkh9lcgO2W9exKzvl3nTxm4SV1-vnNqcRBWKZn0IkH2r8kW-6CJgnDJJNffX_fqh0LCKDezlwre280evdXLKIId-EHxviYU8n6AOkvVXKAzC4wO04TWQkOoH2BAIK5oElOAO/s1600/IMG_1906.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaqnotvpNVlkh9lcgO2W9exKzvl3nTxm4SV1-vnNqcRBWKZn0IkH2r8kW-6CJgnDJJNffX_fqh0LCKDezlwre280evdXLKIId-EHxviYU8n6AOkvVXKAzC4wO04TWQkOoH2BAIK5oElOAO/s640/IMG_1906.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rifugio Carlo Franchetti (I want to overnight here on a future run)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0NvmRu3cl2MH2Kkl1Xr7ZL-qCzh_9pHIoLZmp-iOlUEsQN_rwTuzz1gRqYYayjpIAU4LdF83seA0jaAdJKBV0kWGfD3VsOgOcf4yTNLo2I9tm5vdzTv45td63jDBlHJEKZcLEbF2Hrt8o/s1600/IMG_1928.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0NvmRu3cl2MH2Kkl1Xr7ZL-qCzh_9pHIoLZmp-iOlUEsQN_rwTuzz1gRqYYayjpIAU4LdF83seA0jaAdJKBV0kWGfD3VsOgOcf4yTNLo2I9tm5vdzTv45td63jDBlHJEKZcLEbF2Hrt8o/s640/IMG_1928.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valle dei Ginepri from the Campo Imperatore Ridgeline</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15533353909898449804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-47596409375466542062015-06-15T20:52:00.002-06:002015-06-15T20:52:44.661-06:00Comrades + South Africa Running<div class="MsoNormal">
It seems that once people learn you run races longer than
26.2 miles, one of the next questions invariably is, “Have you run Comrades?” While
I’ve been asked the question many times, I’ve never really had an interest in
the race. The idea of traveling halfway around the world to South Africa to run
54 miles on a road in the hot sun was not appealing.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibpm92N4NUo9872P6A-_YCaXrNlANiwCoK-9iyuLqiC0oNbouKnWTN1IFbLRt68-dsIY2S9IoH_NFf58If8lIC95y5YKGxfA9lgOYr6e612nW251rgcjo-oP3vPCF4llMWJX4yYGBPo7FL/s1600/IMG_1727.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibpm92N4NUo9872P6A-_YCaXrNlANiwCoK-9iyuLqiC0oNbouKnWTN1IFbLRt68-dsIY2S9IoH_NFf58If8lIC95y5YKGxfA9lgOYr6e612nW251rgcjo-oP3vPCF4llMWJX4yYGBPo7FL/s400/IMG_1727.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
</div>
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That was until this year. When I learned I needed to travel
to South Africa for work, I realized it was my chance to finally be able to
answer the question with a, “yes!” While I knew this would be a race like I
have never experienced before, I had no idea quite what to expect. Some of my
experiences and impressions included;<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlSzSKbS8ZUONuVyjBtzruUhvFvR6dp8UpqvzZA4DK-q5O15KXXN0sOF9W5UWOGfkyzUz27eQZd9NSKK_18bB3nmJH6BBewLpMn3HrYMD8zRbM9s2CthFXBqL5f-2z5QGVbgeXr4lCL3qx/s1600/IMG_1748%255B1%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlSzSKbS8ZUONuVyjBtzruUhvFvR6dp8UpqvzZA4DK-q5O15KXXN0sOF9W5UWOGfkyzUz27eQZd9NSKK_18bB3nmJH6BBewLpMn3HrYMD8zRbM9s2CthFXBqL5f-2z5QGVbgeXr4lCL3qx/s640/IMG_1748%255B1%255D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Race Start with 23K Human Radiators</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<ul>
<li>Feeling the heat of the crowd as I stood among the runners
in the dark waiting for the 5:30 am start. While the morning air was cool, the
heat transfer from 23k radiators was noticeable.</li>
<li>Part of the course is on a closed freeway. Yuck!</li>
<li>Sensory overload! 87 kilometers of people calling out your
name, music blaring, inhaling smoke from braais as people barbequed along the
course, and runners wanting to chat, particularly given it was my first
Comrades and they wanted to provide their encouragement or welcome me to their
country. There was never chance to mentally go to that mental other place, and just
run.</li>
<li>The number of times you run the race matters. Each bib
identifies a runners number of completions. Finish ten times and you get a
green bib. I was one of the few runners with a big fat ZERO on my non green bib.
Perhaps a quarter of the runners have completed 10 or more. Remarkable how many people come back
year after year to run Comrades.</li>
<li>Aid stations every couple of miles with volunteers eager to
give you little plastic bags of water and sports drink from which you would bite off
the corner to sip (so much better than cups). After a number of aid stations I
learned it was easier just to take all the bags I could hold in my hands (then
I no longer had to say “no thanks” to the enthusiastic volunteers) and carry
the bags to end of the aid station where young kids would congregate and I
would give the drinks to the kids.</li>
<li>People immensely proud of their country. My bib identified
me as an international runner and people would call things out to me like
“thanks for coming to South Africa” and “I hope you are enjoying our country.”</li>
<li>Most everyone belongs to club and has a club jersey. Running
in an unofficial button down shirt turned heads, and had people confused and
not sure what to think. Maybe the ZERO completions on my bib explained the break with common practice. I would not be exaggerating by saying that no less than
100 people along the course complemented me on my choice of race attire. </li>
</ul>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidJFrc52oxxhhaqfQuWvVs2F9Hv7nPpuHgC_zmi0zaz9luczs2CKoq6SLFWGu9QyuS8-3GXzi7vGqDnb2g-Bflo5uPM9Yt_cIPVk-AR3vLAoExIFzOMWBz5PQnMUZ7FddG3wrxwEj6Y29e/s1600/IMG_1752.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidJFrc52oxxhhaqfQuWvVs2F9Hv7nPpuHgC_zmi0zaz9luczs2CKoq6SLFWGu9QyuS8-3GXzi7vGqDnb2g-Bflo5uPM9Yt_cIPVk-AR3vLAoExIFzOMWBz5PQnMUZ7FddG3wrxwEj6Y29e/s640/IMG_1752.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Along the Course - Sensory Overload</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9Gb4yebYjYksJFOGBXVRfcgFumHBEMCSoH4M57fZQRNMu6MW3o0fBd3IVufJnoInozDpYHEgWXkgT1Fy-ot2bKkJi8KrTZivcWClw6N5jvpBmeT-YB7S6FWKPBPjE4lFhs_kjti8vhta/s1600/IMG_1760%255B1%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9Gb4yebYjYksJFOGBXVRfcgFumHBEMCSoH4M57fZQRNMu6MW3o0fBd3IVufJnoInozDpYHEgWXkgT1Fy-ot2bKkJi8KrTZivcWClw6N5jvpBmeT-YB7S6FWKPBPjE4lFhs_kjti8vhta/s640/IMG_1760%255B1%255D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Official MRC Race Jersey (note the ZERO completions on my bib)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Following the race I was able to enjoy several days of rest
traveling with my family through Kruger national park. Rest is mandatory in the
park where you are a) either required to be inside a fenced and gated camp
(which makes one wonder who really are the animals) or b) in your car. The rest
in the various cages did me good.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimgrV16Qz0n8cj4Crs_8n-T3VFknhrVlgjhGaJdBSwHo48dRHk72QLYOEhVeHaHloGiHiOPF-YSrBbWEMMcfgc4UY4Z393Zuj9pltCB39DZOGh2LngRD-hOB3RyhTG9irnGv_5nPhiDEI2/s1600/IMG_7252.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimgrV16Qz0n8cj4Crs_8n-T3VFknhrVlgjhGaJdBSwHo48dRHk72QLYOEhVeHaHloGiHiOPF-YSrBbWEMMcfgc4UY4Z393Zuj9pltCB39DZOGh2LngRD-hOB3RyhTG9irnGv_5nPhiDEI2/s640/IMG_7252.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Following the park we traveled to Mpumalonga and the Blyde
River Canyon. The canyon is one of the biggest canyons in the world and is
considered the largest “green canyon” owing to its lush subtropical foliage. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here we had several exceptional days of
exploring and running along the canyon edges in the lowveld and into the canyon
where myriad streams, waterfalls and grottos can be found.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm_aMhyphenhyphen-cc4Xuf4Dnxhz3Z8VYEKaftzAoieDEPmR4ZixHITGmCSOKDbJgNnAmlW9GOa95o8c4w4_EW9L8_pewPtbDN4PRwO5ucacM8CmUtFBWwym1LiaGNHqTeQJr89eCVbAOKKUnP7c9L/s1600/IMG_1831.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm_aMhyphenhyphen-cc4Xuf4Dnxhz3Z8VYEKaftzAoieDEPmR4ZixHITGmCSOKDbJgNnAmlW9GOa95o8c4w4_EW9L8_pewPtbDN4PRwO5ucacM8CmUtFBWwym1LiaGNHqTeQJr89eCVbAOKKUnP7c9L/s640/IMG_1831.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running the Lowveld</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIsoW4nozoevyp2fecRgIX6dCsDypSchB80gWQZChHhrymxepxwnZH2cvinfnP3WOSVjejXL4RLC_27E2WwOvDB8grp4XQBkvfpkbfF32e8pdf2Qna46-Hz9Iw_DGSBqhE_ArbVTqgaJpR/s1600/IMG_1838.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIsoW4nozoevyp2fecRgIX6dCsDypSchB80gWQZChHhrymxepxwnZH2cvinfnP3WOSVjejXL4RLC_27E2WwOvDB8grp4XQBkvfpkbfF32e8pdf2Qna46-Hz9Iw_DGSBqhE_ArbVTqgaJpR/s640/IMG_1838.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the Rim of Blyde River Canyon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfyVFs1EDEE1t5jIxDthIWN3JtCH-UsV5rSlciJ1yrKzppuA3i28qMwmsuBShTNkrDu1oabFY8ReDhaGB4OQf0TUXMeMoIfLmz0i9YmeGhOrHc62nJ-XRx6SFI_Sn4fDVSSdUiSPXOR0RS/s1600/IMG_1852.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfyVFs1EDEE1t5jIxDthIWN3JtCH-UsV5rSlciJ1yrKzppuA3i28qMwmsuBShTNkrDu1oabFY8ReDhaGB4OQf0TUXMeMoIfLmz0i9YmeGhOrHc62nJ-XRx6SFI_Sn4fDVSSdUiSPXOR0RS/s640/IMG_1852.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of Myriad Waterfalls and Pools in the Bottoms</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Will I go back to Comrades? For the week after the race is
was a definitive “no.” But as time has passed, perhaps Comrades would be the
perfect excuse for a return to South Africa. We’ll see what 2016 brings…</div>
Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15533353909898449804noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-74317701644088875732015-03-09T13:34:00.001-06:002015-03-09T13:34:28.430-06:00Nomads Run 56K – A Moroccan Race Experience<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgljX0wnuNdhU54cFXXP4QsD5SdM2kIMR0-uY-LjkLfdI6J4EuQ4zhLMZXsRuCd5Y5v7KMft_ybZQ83fZnjTnSnTWtAf-fxRB7G1D28EnjQ9bRhzqlEgP3yv-wHaBLVlpkCo16Z_YNIZEEA/s1600/IMG_1536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgljX0wnuNdhU54cFXXP4QsD5SdM2kIMR0-uY-LjkLfdI6J4EuQ4zhLMZXsRuCd5Y5v7KMft_ybZQ83fZnjTnSnTWtAf-fxRB7G1D28EnjQ9bRhzqlEgP3yv-wHaBLVlpkCo16Z_YNIZEEA/s1600/IMG_1536.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Start of the Nomads Run 56K</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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This past weekend Adrienne, work colleague Nancy Abruto and
I traveled to Marrakech for some warm weather – and some warm weather trail
racing.</div>
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<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhywdWqA6TzA8QYbCYxpX6bnfKzQjTFS5oQ9fXuCm1_9sq1ThBAJwRZ1ghBtdt860EMO4SuikNDcKkf95nShJtyONCv6hDJZTfR_PypQty6ZdQCvbjLy3elv7_sHEWFWww6QzclG_GqTUMf/s1600/IMG_1511.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhywdWqA6TzA8QYbCYxpX6bnfKzQjTFS5oQ9fXuCm1_9sq1ThBAJwRZ1ghBtdt860EMO4SuikNDcKkf95nShJtyONCv6hDJZTfR_PypQty6ZdQCvbjLy3elv7_sHEWFWww6QzclG_GqTUMf/s1600/IMG_1511.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside our Tent at La Pause</td></tr>
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We flew from Rome to Casablanca Thursday night and drove the
2 hours to Marrakech wanting to wake up in the Medina, the old walled city.
After a morning of wandering and eating (cashews, dates, avocados, tagline) our
way through the Medina we drove out to La Pause, the start of the race.</div>
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La Pause is an eco village in the Agafay Desert about 40
kilometers outside of Marrakech. We lounged away the afternoon resting and
reading under the Berber tents that comprise the bulk of the village. After a
traditional Moroccan meal under a full moon, we retired to our tent accommodations.
</div>
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The 7:30 start had me concerned about heat and sun. While
the temperatures were forecast to be pleasant – in the low 80’s, I knew I was
not acclimated for the heat. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
pushed meteorological anxiety aside and cherished the thought of waking up at
normal time, enjoying my coffee out-of-doors, and not being cold. </div>
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<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjvPgd1JyTuOD6lBdiNEh3RmgOZpfdIc2PWDx2YNb-TMw_SmA-8WjalS0Z4MwMX68NL4BmOVelTToAomLf0eJripPdruLeMw3vIUs-353IcNkOBfUQCFHd5Q7uGPbfzcadI9XE4QSnxIzL/s1600/IMG_1539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjvPgd1JyTuOD6lBdiNEh3RmgOZpfdIc2PWDx2YNb-TMw_SmA-8WjalS0Z4MwMX68NL4BmOVelTToAomLf0eJripPdruLeMw3vIUs-353IcNkOBfUQCFHd5Q7uGPbfzcadI9XE4QSnxIzL/s1600/IMG_1539.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the Race Start</td></tr>
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In advance of the race I had been informed by RD <span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Patrick de
Guillebon that a number of Morocco’s best trailers would be running, including </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">Lahcen Ahansal,
10-time winner of the Marathon des Sables. I was looking forward to being able
to run a kilometer – or maybe a few - with these greats.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">I was surprised that the lead runners did not go out particularly
fast. I hung onto a group of three young runners, several of whom had the
indications of being both fast and strong. While I knew I was going a bit
faster than I should, I was unsure of the course markings and found comfort in
being with this lead group who clearly were familiar with the course. I sensed
they were not happy with my uninvited presence so I hung back a few meters and
listened to them chat away in Arabic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">The lead group blew through the first aid station at 10km without
stopping. I thought it would be wise to stop and top off my bottle. I was now
on my own which gave me comfort as I could run my own pace and not feel like I
had to follow someone else’s pace. As the kilometers passed I realized I was
slowly catching the lead group. I pushed a bit harder and by ~km 17 I was back
on the train. The pace picked up and we pushed hard down a sandy wash. After
several kilometers of paying attention to each other and not the painted stones
that marked the route we collectively realized we were off course. After
running to the top of several hills the Moroccans ascertained where we should
be and off we went running across the desert. It was a surreal experience
running hard across the desert following no track, through a Berber village,
and then scrambling up the steep wall of a wash where there was the 20km aid
station - and several runners ahead of us including Lahcen. My GPS watch
indicated 24 kilometers. We had added 2.5 bonus miles to the course. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOaxjehInyK1jxg_ac9gYX0KNofgBy1J6klXrorUF_ciJZYxxGnGp9UMF4h5QvJfuLLHupsmo_nk1jfFkbsV43-Ew0YpobKB14mpq3hCh-gk_DqeaCkUbwyyLIA0E3ztZxsIacm62tVlN3/s1600/IMG_1540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOaxjehInyK1jxg_ac9gYX0KNofgBy1J6klXrorUF_ciJZYxxGnGp9UMF4h5QvJfuLLHupsmo_nk1jfFkbsV43-Ew0YpobKB14mpq3hCh-gk_DqeaCkUbwyyLIA0E3ztZxsIacm62tVlN3/s1600/IMG_1540.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lahcen Ahansal - 10 Time Winner of MDS at Km 30</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">The young Moroccans flew out of the aid station before I had finished
filling my bottle and deciding whether dates or raisins would be the better
choice of nutrition. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew it was
time to let them go and see if I had the stuff to stay with Lahcen. For the
next 20 km Lahcen and I seesawed back and forth - Lahcen climbing well, me moving
more quickly on the flats and descents. “How fun is this?” I kept joyously
asking myself, thinking how lucky am I to be healthy enough to be able to run
hard and privileged enough to jet to Morocco for a foot race.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW8xkL3lSSMZs0sNcAOt-3zuk3tHSAp7UE2e4R_h-cx4vHz2lhVRa8lmyzFqDt38SI_bRTCFMkPeLxiwZkrSv4Jj-VYFPqfxaBqn4_LrSbzcxKBOCOd9Ki3ABq4r3XGorFpD6fErR31Y6J/s1600/IMG_1517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW8xkL3lSSMZs0sNcAOt-3zuk3tHSAp7UE2e4R_h-cx4vHz2lhVRa8lmyzFqDt38SI_bRTCFMkPeLxiwZkrSv4Jj-VYFPqfxaBqn4_LrSbzcxKBOCOd9Ki3ABq4r3XGorFpD6fErR31Y6J/s1600/IMG_1517.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Along the Course</td></tr>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">At 40km I felt like the victim of a WWF SmackDown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was paying the price along with deferred
interest for going out too fast, and racing Lahcen. With little warning I had to
shift into “just keep moving” mode. Even keeping moving was hard in that
shortly after 40km there was a 1500-foot climb. While not a difficult climb,
the combination of the sun and heat, plus my not pacing myself earlier had me
walking several sections. I went through all the usual tried-and-true mental
distractions including intently focusing on the beauty around me, using my
rational brain to explain to me that slowing down one minute per mile if
limited to no more than 5 miles would only result in a 5 minute increase in my
finishing time, and fantasizing that one of the young kids ahead of me had
melted-down and would be found walking around the next corner if I just kept
moving!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">I plodded onward. My pace never picked up, no young speedsters were
seen walking, there was no Lahcen within my sight’s distance behind me. Yet the
beauty around me was inspiring and despite my misery I couldn’t stop thinking,
“how lucky am I!!” And then it was over, and perversely, I was still wanting
for more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjlhJhYurIIRrZiQvTeFRSWEskNrRydLHg25PrHS36Ve39v1kg9PNKuFAmENuOGmyIGulgip61gnk_puPsqt1Y6oAUPUbLphAsIFw9R89aCc1cgrV0ofEdnbHoLdQ9YMGuTM1s5pI_NjR2/s1600/IMG_1544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjlhJhYurIIRrZiQvTeFRSWEskNrRydLHg25PrHS36Ve39v1kg9PNKuFAmENuOGmyIGulgip61gnk_puPsqt1Y6oAUPUbLphAsIFw9R89aCc1cgrV0ofEdnbHoLdQ9YMGuTM1s5pI_NjR2/s1600/IMG_1544.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adrienne at the Finish</td></tr>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">At the end of the race there was a fabulous spread of Moroccan food
enjoyed under Berber tents while cheering fellow runners across the finish line.
I feasted in the delight of runners from across Northern Africa and Europe
sharing the multicultural and cross-lingual joy of running. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">Bravo to youngster </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Hamed Boutaleb who finished 25 minutes ahead of me.
And thanks to Patrick for hosting an exceptionally well-managed event, and for
me, a most memorable experience!</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0wczHbLYopcNCRBZJNo1KxwXP675SZxqN5pItj7ALSPKukF4VYGDfhTdmBEZUNqNv0jZHSMyWCzaLuyCH51oZLpPGj2x8QbiwpxPptRCtdivZoxSumGXEIvMYX7FKpBFy0teE8vPaO-OC/s1600/IMG_1548.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0wczHbLYopcNCRBZJNo1KxwXP675SZxqN5pItj7ALSPKukF4VYGDfhTdmBEZUNqNv0jZHSMyWCzaLuyCH51oZLpPGj2x8QbiwpxPptRCtdivZoxSumGXEIvMYX7FKpBFy0teE8vPaO-OC/s1600/IMG_1548.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Work Colleague Nancy Abruto - 1st Place Woman</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15533353909898449804noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-6238518238262825672015-03-01T06:49:00.002-07:002015-03-01T06:49:32.603-07:00Jay's 2015 Race CalendarWith acceptance into the 2015 Wasatch Front 100 several weeks ago, my 2015 race calendar is more or less complete. This year brings a nice mix of races I have run before and several new races, as well as some adventure runs in places like the Dolomites, El Valle Panama, and Mt Fuji. Happy trails!<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>March 7 - Nomads 54K - Marrakech, Morocco</li>
<li>April 17 - 100 Miles of Istria - Umag, Croatia</li>
<li>May 31 - Comrades (54 miles) - Durban, South Africa</li>
<li>August 15 - Swiss Iron Trails T91 - Davos, Switzerland</li>
<li>September 11 - Wasatch Front 100 - Salt Lake City, USA</li>
<li>November 7 - Relentless 24 Hour - Chiang Mai, Thailand (Tentative)</li>
</ul>
Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15533353909898449804noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8233718949866996577.post-40510563956374325272015-02-22T11:56:00.000-07:002015-02-22T11:56:50.960-07:00Running the GR (Grand Randonnee) 51 This past weekend we played the "find the least expensive plane ticket to where there are some trails" game. A web search and Euro 77 later we were in Marseille running the GR51 through the spectacular Les Calanques, steep walled inlets along the coast between Marseille and Cassis. The first day was a bit of slog in moderate to heavy rain, and having to be careful on the slippery limestone rock. I logged 21 miles with 6,000 vertical. The second day was bluebird gorgeous. I covered 19 miles and 4,500 vertical in just a shade over three hours! The Calanques are just 25 minutes by bus from central Marseille. How easy is that! Enjoy some pictures….<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijFAcGFHznzLGjG6qssiili8F68WExijwN0hnrEmdHO7jTfogCQk00ihwVmptjNTY7hh8_uTTs-z0Vv-BpqAsgV5EMM6O8Ly08_og4PpRznYZY6S0HZm98h6aH_H1YifYHPAFvCcw5jySj/s1600/IMG_1384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijFAcGFHznzLGjG6qssiili8F68WExijwN0hnrEmdHO7jTfogCQk00ihwVmptjNTY7hh8_uTTs-z0Vv-BpqAsgV5EMM6O8Ly08_og4PpRznYZY6S0HZm98h6aH_H1YifYHPAFvCcw5jySj/s1600/IMG_1384.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trailhead in Marseille</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyqiIunwezrQ-AU986JirviJEtnwaVkPzUdLNu_kUf1Xpmo1WtDAFZBkILFoHw-sxIdpEJugERmqdsaGcXBaDUvoWkg9vmyiKmAmF5oGYWEeiCiZ8ybosUgIC7rk25KNyhCDJeiXCOSGJq/s1600/IMG_1394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyqiIunwezrQ-AU986JirviJEtnwaVkPzUdLNu_kUf1Xpmo1WtDAFZBkILFoHw-sxIdpEJugERmqdsaGcXBaDUvoWkg9vmyiKmAmF5oGYWEeiCiZ8ybosUgIC7rk25KNyhCDJeiXCOSGJq/s1600/IMG_1394.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some Good Vert!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdB4IlE2ZK2dHHDdvVVJ8m84S_1Rrxpq-jjkjAHUfAjQeQA43CLo3n-uho2jk3jXp83B0DpI2KGqevvSkYdROOqJLIqjrECasvF-1weDhB85CsNxp89WQHNG6V8mzkR60wTK7PIFtydBYC/s1600/IMG_1398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdB4IlE2ZK2dHHDdvVVJ8m84S_1Rrxpq-jjkjAHUfAjQeQA43CLo3n-uho2jk3jXp83B0DpI2KGqevvSkYdROOqJLIqjrECasvF-1weDhB85CsNxp89WQHNG6V8mzkR60wTK7PIFtydBYC/s1600/IMG_1398.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Along the GR 51 to Cassis</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzdgwpORk6MnnSuiLTRSLw16CVB14ylvdc3VpFvfyRllkSyvZWvuqQNCcdpC8UTFPWKzHlHWrtX2u0g_Zxb5xa-WlNu56Hcen5hUfAESYIQDOX-kAOOO4VvRqB3QKpwvJ5QEnOaa7UlI81/s1600/IMG_1399.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzdgwpORk6MnnSuiLTRSLw16CVB14ylvdc3VpFvfyRllkSyvZWvuqQNCcdpC8UTFPWKzHlHWrtX2u0g_Zxb5xa-WlNu56Hcen5hUfAESYIQDOX-kAOOO4VvRqB3QKpwvJ5QEnOaa7UlI81/s1600/IMG_1399.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">GR 51 Looking Back Towards Marseille</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuaqPI0bdVFRBkJt2cadr8MdLtnEiVqylVZgyC_CDRdfH8aWKVZBhMKiHAjItxj9MJBauTJliSCp4N3eWqSk9QBFqiu_e4G_bw30QLQVXunboNmwc5jzt4zWbbgbRe-IaArsFX6xuupgMe/s1600/IMG_1414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuaqPI0bdVFRBkJt2cadr8MdLtnEiVqylVZgyC_CDRdfH8aWKVZBhMKiHAjItxj9MJBauTJliSCp4N3eWqSk9QBFqiu_e4G_bw30QLQVXunboNmwc5jzt4zWbbgbRe-IaArsFX6xuupgMe/s1600/IMG_1414.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Calanque</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaEJKGclKahqpEWjMhpiatGVbpDZ4faoEVjYO1c-WJC-KadWO381ROoP_dr3Wjl54jg68YVTQpp7SXNX2Ag_E5XjKQJGLFg8mpXllMUytmMi_9iROWqRi4UFJgiLY7Q1CDD6Gfozs8K6tk/s1600/IMG_1422.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaEJKGclKahqpEWjMhpiatGVbpDZ4faoEVjYO1c-WJC-KadWO381ROoP_dr3Wjl54jg68YVTQpp7SXNX2Ag_E5XjKQJGLFg8mpXllMUytmMi_9iROWqRi4UFJgiLY7Q1CDD6Gfozs8K6tk/s1600/IMG_1422.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">GR51 - Marseille to Cassis<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgazda-y9VdkmTz6k6X1UFWe-YdXoFiQYzM3978X77crxFgWDmeLODR_MPv1ET8Sdnav9kbvTVmdAbA4KkBc-x4ojZsjwOTUU9nXCiQP68z0sFy1BFEIB52SvddfYbw7lRzpPpkpLYmH71a/s1600/IMG_1440.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgazda-y9VdkmTz6k6X1UFWe-YdXoFiQYzM3978X77crxFgWDmeLODR_MPv1ET8Sdnav9kbvTVmdAbA4KkBc-x4ojZsjwOTUU9nXCiQP68z0sFy1BFEIB52SvddfYbw7lRzpPpkpLYmH71a/s1600/IMG_1440.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running High</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfo-cslwadJ3PPRfYG-jV-VoLpNU2TQulnAFtCz1moiG1vOsSWlvW80xfJ9U_HsqL_OjSz6_WeOXw3hjRcPGJgN3Gn87d9XskavR2fhhPgYZjyH6aDkTNnhsuh8Wct5UwriI7B0MUrYMFo/s1600/IMG_1452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfo-cslwadJ3PPRfYG-jV-VoLpNU2TQulnAFtCz1moiG1vOsSWlvW80xfJ9U_HsqL_OjSz6_WeOXw3hjRcPGJgN3Gn87d9XskavR2fhhPgYZjyH6aDkTNnhsuh8Wct5UwriI7B0MUrYMFo/s1600/IMG_1452.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Calanque</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTPHps7BTA3FjP1mmOE_wWi-sWS19_8Cm4ujOryCHlX5_NP0yE4Jh7TM6LaMYqBTbnrpD8hvQLnh97rG8IcaRNPieaSV6KGtNIba64dVhRHZ3qhAgm6Ri3Df6hWn_izlR5xAji3UQylND7/s1600/IMG_1453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTPHps7BTA3FjP1mmOE_wWi-sWS19_8Cm4ujOryCHlX5_NP0yE4Jh7TM6LaMYqBTbnrpD8hvQLnh97rG8IcaRNPieaSV6KGtNIba64dVhRHZ3qhAgm6Ri3Df6hWn_izlR5xAji3UQylND7/s1600/IMG_1453.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the Water</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPVIV6K0G4sklaKFC5HoiP_0OxyQH6t-CzlYH_bPmH31EjC0ZWZie8yTmy7wQmNHs0hsc133ERMXDoYt9YaGrA2PyjCiH-7mJl27EV0lL1FbvEBD7IVRZxf5LaI92-eHZSgYDXtEZx_pJF/s1600/IMG_1461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPVIV6K0G4sklaKFC5HoiP_0OxyQH6t-CzlYH_bPmH31EjC0ZWZie8yTmy7wQmNHs0hsc133ERMXDoYt9YaGrA2PyjCiH-7mJl27EV0lL1FbvEBD7IVRZxf5LaI92-eHZSgYDXtEZx_pJF/s1600/IMG_1461.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marseille in the Distance</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhStn5Wv1tnpfe3i6bRp4zBZMvtPPuDADfGiwOMWhFCLrhinJK9XvqVaWovFtrdw0zgir-Yt-JT47zfB5NHjgfpbL7Yzdy8q9mofc8spAddrdcNTV6JrIjQQ9zGmgvtY-CeZEVRUjlq-Fmz/s1600/IMG_1462.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhStn5Wv1tnpfe3i6bRp4zBZMvtPPuDADfGiwOMWhFCLrhinJK9XvqVaWovFtrdw0zgir-Yt-JT47zfB5NHjgfpbL7Yzdy8q9mofc8spAddrdcNTV6JrIjQQ9zGmgvtY-CeZEVRUjlq-Fmz/s1600/IMG_1462.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Endless Trails!</td></tr>
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Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15533353909898449804noreply@blogger.com1