Sunday, February 15, 2015

Rome to Lago Albano - 50K History Tour

Today I took advantage of good weather and the possibility of a ride home from Lago Albano to piece together a stunning and historical 50K run from Central Rome to Castel Gandolfo (The Pope's summer residence) overlooking Lago Albano. My run included spectacular sights, stretches of trail, and finally meeting fellow runners who were running around the lake for a post run lunch outside on the shore of the lake. Enjoy the historical tour della storia...


Porta Portese Market - more than 1000 vendors each Sunday

Crossing the Tevre

Victor Emmanuel 

The Forum

The Colosseum

Porta Latina - Old City Gate

Caffarella Park

Along the Appian Way
Trail Along the Appian


Old Roman Pavers Along the Appian

Chariot and Wagon Ruts


The Appian

Lago Albano

Castel Gandolfo - Pope's Summer Residence

Post Run Lunch with Fellow WFP Runners



Sunday, February 8, 2015

Running in Rome - My Daily Commute

People often ask me, "Where do you run in Rome?" While there are some great places to run such as the Appian Way, Villa Pamphili, or even the streets of old Rome on an early Sunday morning, my running consists primarily of my almost daily 20K run to work.

This weekend I had to run (figuratively) to work so I decided to run (literally) and take some pictures since most of the year my morning commute is in the dark and there is not much to see. While not the most pleasant run, my route along the Tiber is definitely varied and includes busy boulevards, passing through Roma camps, sections of bike paths and even a bit of dirt as I pass through a farm before arriving at the office. Here are a few photos…


Crossing the Tiber
Past Old Farms
Through a Number of Housing Blocks
Passing through a Roma Camp
New Bridge on Top of an Old Bridge - New on Old, The Story of Rome
A Nice Section of Bike Path
Water Along the Way 
Blackberries - Yum!
Crossing the Tiber - Again
View of the Tiber from the Bridge
A Few km of Dirt!
The Office 
The Train Home

Sunday, November 16, 2014

Ski Tuning

For the majority of the MRC this last ultra running season was not very productive. At all. We have some pretty good reasons why but none of them are worth taking up space in this post. 

No, this post is about ski tuning and not the kind that involves wax and sharpening edges, instead it's about knocking the dust off the skis and the cobwebs from the boots. It's about making the first turns of this very young winter season and re-connecting with the Wasatch in what is quickly becoming my favorite season. Perhaps it should be called "Winter Tuning". Here is the evidence of our winter tuning from the past two days.
The only pic from Day 1, Greg in less than ideal conditions

Day 2 - Peter and Greg enjoying the ascent

Greg

Peter

Peter



Saturday, November 8, 2014

Cinque Terre Trail Running


Home Base - Vernazza

This past weekend was a long holiday weekend in Italy which afforded a great opportunity to travel to Cinque Terre (literally translated as 5 lands), a rugged section of the Italian Riveria with exceptional trails. While most tourists opt for the seaside trails that connect the five villages of Monterosso, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola, and Riomagiorre, we took advantage of the higher trails that are seldom frequented and surprise and delight as one runs through vineyards, forests, and along windswept ridges. Here are some pictures of three great days of trail running followed by good food and wine (not necessarily in that order). 


Post run recovery drink and afternoon nap in the sun
Running through vineyards
Forest Trails

The trails would go through the heart of villages

Climbing out of Corniglia

Adrienne catching the train to the start of her run

The possible outcome of running along cliffs

Endless views of the sea

One of many surprise ruins along the trails



Sunday, October 5, 2014

Georgia Jewell 100 Race Report

Pinhoti Trail - Georgia
And then there are those days…

And this was one of them…

Running the Georgia Jewell 100 seemed like a good idea at the time. I was going to be in the U.S. for meetings that would span a weekend. “Why not run an American trail ultra for old times sake?” was my thought. When the Georgia Jewell 100 came up during a search of races the idea of running through the wooded forests of northern Georgia sounded fun.  I’ve been running well, feeling reasonably healthy, and felt like it was time to try and bust out a good time for a 100.

The lead up to the race was not ideal. I was working long days with events each evening that went too late into the night and with too much alcohol. I was tired. Then the stress of a delayed flight to Atlanta, rush hour traffic, and racing to get to the pre-race check-in before it closed Friday night. I crawled into bed thinking, "I just want to sleep in – not get up at 3:30 am to run."

As I waited for the start I felt ready. There was a small field of 50 or so runners with some regional speedsters. I was confident that unless I made some big mistakes or something went terribly wrong I could place, and possibly win. This confidence was buoyed by the ease in which the early miles passed in the predawn dark. Within the first few miles I was off the front and by myself. A nice place to be.

Despite being in the lead and feeling physically good – I wasn’t feeling it. I didn’t have a hunger to race. My motivation was lacking. This was unusual in that for me the day was as good as it gets; I felt strong and healthy, the weather was perfect, the trail was stunning, and I was in the mix.

I tried to go to that other place - leave the present and find a daydream that would entertain my mind for miles. But I couldn’t. At about mile 35 I hit a low spot. My mind kept repeating, “I’m bored.” My non-listening self kept replying “then deal with you boredom.” This was not a good place to be. I was frustrated.  It was too early in the race to slip into a trough when arguably things were going so well. With resignation I accepted the reality that if I just kept moving and running smart, in time this would pass and I would again feel engaged. I kept running...

At the turnaround at 52 miles my condition had not improved. I was still in the trough. I resorted to my ever-reliable pathway out of the funk. Coke. I downed several cups and asked that my water bottle be filled with the elixir. High fructose corn syrup would be the answer to my funkatosis.

As I began the return journey the Coke in my bottle began to fizz out dripping down my lower back and into my crack. Soon after I had to take a Shilling from drinking so much Coke on an unsettled stomach. This presented a problem in that I had decided to run light with just a Gregory Tempo waist pack. I had used all of the pocket space for gels and had deliberately decided to not bring any toilet paper. My cotton Armani button-down would need to take one for the team. Then, I noticed a pressure point in my right shoe, it was sort of like a rock stuck in the sole feeling, but different. After scuffing my shoe on rocks hoping to dislodge whatever was stuck on the bottom of my shoe, I stopped to take a look. Upon inspection I discovered that the bottom of my, out of the box, Montrail Fly had delaminated. All I could do was laugh at how my sticky shitting ass was still somehow moving forward despite a broken hoof. Perhaps self-pity would turn this race around for me?

The return was a slog. I listened to every breath. I felt every step. I could never find that other place where miles and time pass without effort. I cursed myself for not having placed some tunes in a drop bag for a mid-race distraction. My stomach remained unsettled and my ass remained sticky as bottle after bottle of Coke dribbled down my backside. I kept on running, counting the breaths, the steps, and the miles...

I wanted the win, but was unwilling to earn it. As the sun set laziness set in and I was walking uphills that I should (and could) have been running. But, I didn’t care. I rationalized to myself that if I saw a light, I would turn it on knowing that I had a lot left if needed. I was deliberately choosing to run lazy, blaming it on my defective shoe, chaffed ass, and bored mind. 

After passing the 100-mile mark I lost patience with being complacent and decided it was time to get this race over. I pushed hard the last five miles (The Georgia Jewell is 105 miles long) and felt good about the effort. I crossed the finish line in 20:22 in first place, though I was not proud of the effort or the time.

A week later I feel better about the race. It was a good lesson about how if I want to run well then I need to take preparation more seriously (e.g. using drop bags, ensuring I have access to the foods I like, bringing music). And more importantly, make sure I bring my head to the race with me. But, despite it being a train wreck of a day, there is something always fulfilling and fun about running a 100-miles that I cherish. Already the self loathing thoughts that propelled me for many miles have been forgotton and am looking forward to the next time that I can race.

Thanks to RD Karen Pearson and all the volunteers for a well organized race. Apologies for not being my usual appreciative and cheerful self – blame it on the Coke induced ass chafe J

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Swiss IronTrail T81


This past weekend (15 August) was the Ferragosto  (Assumption Day) holiday in Italy. So when work colleague Richard Chourlaton suggested a road trip to Davos Switzerland for The Swiss IronTrail T81 race, I knew it was the perfect way to enjoy a long weekend and get out of Rome’s August heat.

Richard Chourlaton - Finish Swiss IronTrail T81

The term Ferragosto is derived from the Latin expression Feriae Augusti (Augustus' rest), which is a celebration introduced by Emperor Augustus in 18 BC. During this celebration, races of various beasts of burden (including oxen, donkeys and mules) were organized across the empire. Given this, it seemed like an apropos day to burden in an 88Km trail race across the Swiss Alps.

I’ve enjoyed trail racing in Europe and I have found the comparisons between racing in the US interesting; from aid stations, to trail marking and racing etiquette. Each race is a bit different and I learn and experience something new. I’ve come to look forward to cheese and chocolate at aid stations (excellent gluten-free choices), I can’t quite cut the trail yet without feeling guilty, and I appreciate that the sport is still pedestrian enough that I can show up without compression socks or Solomon gear, instead wearing a button-down shirt and still be welcomed. I love this sport!

Rosti - Yum!
Davos is an 8-hour car drive from Rome. The ride north went quickly with good conversation and stunning scenery. Stepping out of the car in Davos, I could have well been on another planet in comparison to Rome.  No graffiti. Ten degrees Celsius. Towering mountains. Food options beyond pasta. We enjoyed a pre-race meal of rosti, a traditional Swiss dish made of coarsely grated potatoes accompanied by an assortment of yummy complimentary foods – in my case ham, cheese and egg.

While the start of our race was only 40km away as the crow flies, it required two buses and 2 hours and 15 minutes to travel from Davos to Savognin. Richard and I walked to the start, checked-in, rested and prepared for the civilized 10:30am start.

Start at Savognin
I had ambitions of placing. I’ve been able to get some vertical on the weekends outside of Rome and have been feeling healthy. However, almost immediately that ambition seemed overly ambitious as I was out of breath and struggling to keep up with the lead pack. I hung on. Then, at about 5 kilometers we realized that we had missed a turn and had to backtrack about a kilometer. When we got back on course we were at the tail end of the conga line moving slowly up the first steep single-track ascent. Energy was wasted needlessly trying to get by people on the climb.

I crested the top of the first big climb in 2nd place. But, within the first 500 meters of the descent 4 people had passed me. I was not confident on the descent and I was struggling. I felt the day unraveling.

I pushed hard on the descent and slowly gained on the person in front of me. Yet, my gain was not enough to catch him. On the initial climb several small rocks had gotten into my shoe. For several kilometers on the descent I tried the wiggling the toes technique to move the rocks to a place where they didn’t rub. This effort failed and I needed to stop to clean out my shoe. As I sat on a rock removing my shoe and sock, the race felt over.

I tried to regroup on the next climb. Intellectually, I knew this should be the best part of the race for me. A long gradual to medium grade climb that was not particularly technical – my strength. Yet I couldn’t pull it together. It started to rain. I was cold. I debated putting on my rain jacket. I didn’t. I then debated if the reason I didn’t put my jacket on was whether I was lazy, or that I didn’t really need it. Time moved slowly. The kilometers even slower. I crept past a number of runners, surprised that I was moving faster than they were despite my funk.

Between abating rain and catching people I began to feel better. My confidence built. Then, after not seeing flags for some period I realized that I was likely off course. This presented a challenge. Being old-school and not having the course programmed into a GPS watch, I needed to refer to a print map which required getting reading glasses out of my pack which then kept fogging up. F*ck! All this when I was just getting it together. Once I confirmed I was off course I made the necessary corrections. Back on course, I could see that there were more footprints on the trail than before. I had lost a number of positions. How many, I did not know.

Despite the setback my legs felt good and I reeled back the people who had passed me. Reports from people along the trail indicated I was in first place. Footprints on the path seemed to confirm this. However, I could not account for all the people initially in front of me. Despite the conflicting data, I pushed a bit harder motivated by the thought of placing and perhaps winning.

On the next climb a fog settled in making it hard to see the course markers and impossible to see any runners ahead or behind me. I tried to keep moving. After about an hour into the climb I heard a faint click-click of poles. Someone was about to catch me. I pushed harder. At the top of a minor pass, Alister Bignell of France caught up to me. I expected him to surge off on the descent but he lingered. I took off in the faint hope that I could stay in front of him. On the next climb I realized I was holding my own with Alister. I reckoned if I could hold him off on the climbs, I could move faster on the non-technical descents and flats. I ran as fast as I could through the fog, chased by the ghost of Alister.

The final ascent of this 28km climb was a bugger. It took everything I had to keep moving and literally not stall-out mid-step because of the steepness of the trail. I crested the top at 2650 meters, the apex of a 1800-meter climb and cherished the descent knowing there was one last big climb before the finish in Davos. At km 76 I again got lost, missing a key junction. Once I realized my mistake, defogged my glasses and consulted my map I backtracked to the missed turn. Best estimate - 10 minutes lost. Fortunately, no new tracks on the path. I knew this race was mine if I made no more mistakes.

Finish - Courtesy of IronTrails
On the final climb I could see Alister’s headlamp occasionally popping out of the fog, but I knew it would be hard for him to make up the distance with just 6km to go. I crested the ridge and could see Davos below. I moved as quickly as I could, conscious that I was tired. The trail was moderately technical, and no mistakes were allowed. Conservatism was my new race strategy.

I crossed the finish line in 12:29 – not particularly fast, yet I was pleased with the effort and pleased with the win given that I had not felt my best and had been navigationally challenged.


Congrats to Richard who had a strong finish and then proceeded to drive most of the way home. And bravo to Adrienne who completed the 21Km course. All-in-all a great way to celebrate Ferragosto. Augustus would have been pleased with the event and the competition.

Courtesy - Swiss Irontrails






Sunday, August 3, 2014

Running to Take a Call

My Fun Birthday Present

So how fun is this? For my birthday my daughter's friend Zoe made me this custom iPhone cover. I really like it, but I've avoided contemplating if there is any symbolism, much less asking.

Sunday, July 27, 2014

Gran Sasso Running

For the first year of living in Rome I lamented that there were no real mountains close by.  Then, I was introduced to the Gran Sasso National Park, just 2 hours from Rome. Gran Sasso lays claim to many interesting features including Southern Italy’s highest Peak (Corno Grande), the southern-most glacier in Europe, Refugio Campo Imperatore where Mussolini was imprisoned until freed by a Nazi commando operation, and the castle of Rocco Calscio – all of which as you can imagine, makes for great running.

Adrienne and I have made Gran Sasso our go-to weekend summer getaway with the aging “Hotel Budapest-like Refugio Campo Imperatore as our base. The weekend drill goes something like this...

Jay blocks his Friday calendar with “week wrap-up” from 15:00 to 17:00 so he can get out of the office no later than 5:00. Pick-up the rental car at 5:30. Join the hordes of Romans escaping the city for the weekend. Exchanging hand gestures and expletives turn the crawling pace of traffic into a pleasurable experience. Once outside the Recordo Grande (belt route) traffic thins and we speed along the A24 at 130 kilometers an hour…


Immediately upon arriving at Refugio Campo Imperatore we crack a bottle of regional wine (Abruzzo) over which we plan the weekend’s running adventures.

Enjoy some pictures from past weekends…

Hotel Budapest-like Refugio Campo Imperatore (2130M) - our weekend home

Planning the weekend activities down the hall from where Mussolini was imprisoned


Calderone Glacier

Fog Lifting on Cresta del Monte Acquilla

East Face Corno Grande (2912M)

Campo Pericolli

View from Rocco Calascio (highest castle in Italy)

Medieval Village of Santo Steffano (most buildings date from 11-15th century)

Castle Rocco Calascio

View from Corno Grande
Adrienne  - the climb out of Campo Pericoli

Climbing to Corno Grande


Corno Grande (2912M)