YO-SEM-ITE!

Initial posts to this blog showcased C and I in Red Rocks, with our group of climbing friends on our annual New Years trip. This group also has an annual summer trip down to the Valley of Yosemite. As in traditional fashion, I packed up my running, climbing and river-lounging gear soon after I finished my last final of the quarter and headed to the mountains.

Even after having spent several weekends already this year on the drive to the valley, I still can never shake the huge grin that spans my face the instant the valley grasses turn to trees and the smell of pine trees and forest soil permeates the car. My trip started with a lazy day hanging out in the hot sun, with periodic dips into the snow-melt river. I was relaxing in preparation for a long run the next day.

My run started later than planned, since I had little motivation to get out of my sleeping bag into the chilly morning air of camp 4. Oh well, this would just give me a little bit of intense, high elevation sun training. My initial plan, based on a recommendation from a friend who knew the trails well, was to run from the valley out to Merced Lake and back. It sounded perfect, since there would be lots of runnable miles once I was out of the valley and well populated enough that I didn’t have to worry over the issue of running alone.

I was prepared for whatever fate wanted to throw at me that day. In my Nathan hydration pack I managed to squeeze in: 5-6 luna/ cliff bars, 4 GUs, 1 PB&H, 2 Liters of water plus a pack of iodine pills for treating stream refills, a cell phone, and a lighter, just in case I was out there longer than expected ;). A little bit of overkill? Maybe. But the feeling I had from being comfortable enough to last a couple days out there? Totally worth it.

I started my way up the crowded mist trail, yearning to get out away from the theme park-like lines that crowd the trails close to the valley. At the bottom of Vernal Falls, I decided to take the JMT instead of the mist trail to get to the top, in favor of less people. As my luck would have it, I missed the turnoff to continue towards Little Yosemite and ended up going the opposite direction, towards Glacier Point. After realizing my mistake and looking at milages for various points, I then changed my plan to run out to Buena Vista Lake and then back the same way.

I ran over rolling hills in a hot, exposed area that had recently burned. I could really feel the intense rays and I slowed down quite a bit. Once the trail took a downward path, back into the trees, I could once again feel comfortable and pick back up the pace. About 7mi in, the trail wound down close to a large river, raging from the large amounts of snowpack that was now melting. I immediately hoped that my trail wouldn’t dead end at the river, but in my gut, I knew it was probably true. The river was completely impassable where the trail intersected, but I decided to follow the water upstream for awhile in attempt to find a calmer section.

The river didn't look very friendly :/

I saw a few other footprints on the bank, and hoped that they’d lead me to a safe crossing. After about 20 minutes of bushwhacking alongside the river, I was about ready to turn back.Then, up ahead, I saw 4 guys who were obviously backpacking, looking to cross the river. “Can I cross with you guys!?!” I yelled as I clumsily made my way through some bushes to get over to where they were standing. The look that they gave me was obvious that they doubted my abilities to be out here in the mountains. “Where is all of your gear?” they replied, obviously skirting the question. To them I must have looked crazy. Some girl, all alone in the backcountry, with tiny running shorts, a tank top, and a very small pack on my back(little did they know how much power I had from that pack), trying to go for a “jog”, as they put it.

After a little bit of convincing, they agreed to let me cross with them. They informed me that I’d be able to take an alternate trail around the river after I crossed and wouldn’t have to go through it again. I started making my way across, following what seemed to be the strongest guy in the group. Once I got to the middle of the river I panicked a little. The river was bitter cold, mid-thigh depth and moving faster than I’ve ever felt water push. Having just seen the last mile of river below me, I knew that I didn’t want to be carried away. I reached my hand out to this stranger as he looked back to check on me. I tightly gripped his hand as I shuffled my way to the other side. After much thanks to the people who were the reason I was able to continue my run (in case your wondering, no, I would not have tried to cross if they weren’t there. I would’ve sucked up my pride and turned around), I wound my way back down the river to hook back up with the trail.

I saw the intersection where I’d be able to get back to the valley by going out towards Glacier Point to avoid re-crossing the river. I took the other fork towards Buena Vista Lake, now excited for a refreshing mid-run swim that didn’t involve fearing for my life. This section of the trail had obviously not been used very often. There were so many downed trees from the winter’s storms, which left travel slow and difficult. It was

Just a little rough

beautiful, though. I couldn’t help taking a few minutes to stop and soak in my surroundings. Huge, snow-covered peaks surrounded the ridge that I was following. I was in awe. As I started nearing the lake, I could practically smell the refreshing water that I’d soon be jumping in. The expected just isn’t my style, though, and I guess an easy run to the lake just wasn’t in store for me today. I came upon one particularly large log across the trail that I had to climb over. Just as I got to the top, feeling like whale, trying to kick myself over the large object, I noticed a new friend on the trail. Right there in front of me, but facing the opposite direction and moseying along the trail, was a huge black bear! At first I was a little stunned. I’ve only seen a few bears in the wild before, and they were always along the road while I was driving or really far away. After a minute I came back into my head and sat in wonderment of how cool this was! I felt in no way threatened- this guy looked like he’d much rather take a nap then mess with me. I clapped my hands a few times so he’d know I was there, but he barely even looked back long enough for me to catch a glimpse of his long, brown snout. (I apologize for the lack of bear pics. He had already turned the corner by the time my brain remembered to pull out the camera!)

:)

Even though he wasn’t looking for a confrontation, I decided that it would be best to make my turnaround at this point, rather than trying to wait for him to get off the path. I reached the fork and headed out to Glacier Point, on recommendation from the people who helped me cross, but after just a few miles, I hit another river! I couldn’t believe it! This one wasn’t nearly as big, but the water was still moving way faster then I felt comfortable with. I took the same course of action as last time and headed upstream in search of a calmer path. Much to my surprise, I came running up on the same 4 guys! Luckily, there was an easy crossing and I spent a few minutes talking and marveling at our chance meeting. After thanking them again, I continued on my way. This section of trail was much more forested and although the hill was pretty steep, I had a lot of fun. I reached the intersection of the Panorama Trail and knew that it would take me back towards Nevada Falls, where I could follow the same trail I had come up.

This section was absolutely gorgeous. It had such expansive views of the valley that I just soaked in. Because of the heavy snows this winter, the waterfalls were massive! There were also several other smaller waterfalls that normally don’t even exist. The meadow far down below looked as if it was a perfectly manicured golf course, the way it was so green. I passed over Illilouette Falls, the eventual outlet of the two forks of river I had crossed earlier in the day. Crossing the bridge over the crest of the falls capped a truly epic run. The rest of the way went (fairly) smoothly. I wasn’t a huge fan of the climb after crossing the falls, but other than that, I cruised back down to the valley.

Nevada Falls

After being on my feet all day, I greatly appreciated the decision of a few friends to  buy some pizza and beer and relax for the evening. My brain and body needed it.

I’ve come to learn that the longer of distances I try to run, the more likely I am to face unexpected and exciting challenges and adventures. Even though this run led me through  some scary moments, they are what will motivate me to get back out on the trails and explore. This is what’s fun. This is why I run.

The Western States (Half) Story

I woke at 3:45. Three alarms had been set, but only one went off. Everything was laid out in the hotel room from the night before. I flicked on the lights, pushed the “on” button on the coffee pot, and poured myself some cereal. As I sat there alone at the table, I was surprised at how calm I was. In about an hour, I was about to begin what I hoped to be an ordeal that would last more than a full day, and I was still able to crunch down my Honey Bunches of Oats. I’m not sure why I was calm, but I think part of it was the fact that the task at hand was so big that I just couldn’t quite comprehend its magnitude. Instead, I simply chose not to comprehend anything. I just sat there and ate. I went through the motions to get ready, woke up Kristen, and met my parents downstairs. We walked together through the dark village at Squaw Valley to the pre race weigh-in and bib pickup. The lodge was packed with runners, families, volunteers, and supporters. It was 4:30. As I made my way through the crowd to the required stations, I brushed past the likes of Dave Mackey and Andy Jones-Wilkins, and marveled at the fact that I was in the presence of greats. The whole thing still wasn’t really registering with me.

Eventually everyone in the warm, stuffy room began shuffling toward the doors to the start line on the patio outside. Five minutes to go. My dad and Kristen headed off up the hill a little ways to get pictures of the start while my mom kept me company. We hung out near the back of the crowd until the gun. Then I shed my jacket, gave it to my mom and got a final motherly hug and kiss (it’s the best feeling in the world to have people around you that care for you as much as my family and friends do). I watched the leaders running up to the first switchback on the dirt road, their swift movements illuminated in the morning darkness by the nearby lights of a ski lift, as I walked amongst the crowd under the start clock and onto the course.

That first four mile climb is absolutely gorgeous. As we climbed higher onto Squaw Valley’s slopes, the golden light broke over the mountains to the east and cast warm hues across the entire mountain. I was happy to be there. Shortly after the Escarpment Aid Station we hit the first patches of snow. Upon reaching the top of Emigrant Pass, I took a moment to look back over Squaw Valley, Lake Tahoe and the Sierra Nevadas. There’s definitely a reason why the Tahoe-area Sierras are my favorite place in the world. Soon after, I got in line as we all carried momentum down the dirt trail on the backside of the mountain. The trail heads north for about a quarter of a mile, then turns west to skirt the ridge. Soon the dirt was gone and snow prevailed. The trail held approximately the same topo line, heading gently downhill, following the ridge that loomed above and to the right. There was an ever-present left-facing side-slope that threw many people off guard on the icy surface. The snow was very interesting. It was summer corn, but frozen, making for a very sharp surface in the event of sliding skin. Numerous times I saw a dent in the snow accompanied by a significant patch of blood. The snow was also a quite uneven, dimpled from melting in the sun, only to be refrozen during the night. As we cruised along, some folks complained about the snow, some chatted about random events and many were silent, just a line of runners chugging along in the high country, with blue skies above and wonderfully crisp alpine air all around. I found my skiing and snowshoeing background to be very beneficial here, as traction seemed to come relatively easy to me. Looking back, this was my favorite part of the course. It was cold, exciting and very unique. We ran from ribboned tree to ribboned tree, following no discernable trail, just exploring the backcountry.

Eventually the snow turned to mud and we crossed a very cold river, and before I knew it we were at Talbot aid, mile 15. I still had plenty of water in my hydration pack so I grabbed some crackers and headed down the road, the snow now completely gone. The next five miles followed a fire road and then a paved road to the Poppy aid station. It was pretty, but fairly boring, but it passed quickly. At Poppy I switched shoes and socks (from Cascadias to Hokas). The next bit of trail was a very fun, rolling singletrack that skirted French Meadows reservoir. I can’t believe I’ve lived in Auburn for so long and have never been to French Meadows. I really wanted to jump in the cold blue water, pitch a tent and just camp for a couple days! The trail made its way through the old burn and into Duncan Canyon aid. After gathering supplies, water, etc, I continued on uneventfully.

It was 7 miles to the next aid at Mosquito Ridge Road and I was told there would be a climb. It was on this climb that I began to feel less than stellar. It was still not hot by any means, but it was definitely getting warmer. And I think that this warming, along with the long climb set off a chain reaction that would eventually derail me. I came into MRR approximately in the middle of the 24- and 30-hour paces. My weight was down, but not enough to cause concern. My stomach was uneasy, so I ate what I could and sucked on a ginger chew. I decided to walk for a little while to see if things would get better. Eventually I got tired of this and started back on a walk/run regimen, though it was still much slower than I wanted, especially this early in the race. By the time I hit Dusty Corners, I had full on nausea. I plopped down and was immediately helped by the amazing aid station volunteers there. They asked how much I had been drinking, gave me fluids and an S! Cap and told me to relax. I still was well ahead of the cutoffs. About 20 minutes later, I was ready to rock again. For some reason, I had related my nausea to nutrition and thought little of the possibility of dehydration. Looking back, I chalk this up to simple lack of experience and not being able to recognize my problems. Back on the trail, I had regained a solid pace and absolutely loved the views out around Pucker Point. That was such a fun trail that I think I could have enjoyed it for many more hours. I was drinking well again, or so I thought, and was getting some goldfish down, though I knew that by now I was becoming quite calorie deficient.

At last chance I slurped some broth, ate a square of grilled cheese sandwich and simply couldn’t resist a bite of cold, delicious watermelon. I knew I had had problems with oranges before, but I thought the watermelon would be okay. It turns out I was very wrong. I descended into the first canyon, the Hokas doing their job very well, as I felt smooth and fast heading toward the bottom. I took a moment at the bridge to admire the raging river passing below, and began the climb to Devil’s Thumb. I met two guys near the bottom and we climbed together slowly for a little while, taking rest breaks every once-in-awhile. But soon I couldn’t keep up. My energy was low (lack of calories) and I found my nausea coming back. I had to take more and more rests and got passed by more and more people. Eventually my mentality went from holding it down to just wishing it would come up. I even dry-heaved once near the top but my body wanted to hold onto the water in there so badly. I hadn’t peed at all since dusty corners and I had no idea how many calories I had taken in since then, but I knew it wasn’t much. I thought my hydration had been on the mend, but again I must have misjudged. How could so many mistakes happen in such quick succession? Hadn’t I learned anything from earlier in the day? Or was there a different cause for this illness? Either way, once I became nauseous, water intake diminished greatly. So if I wasn’t dehydrated at the bottom of the canyon, I definitely was by Devil’s Thumb.

I weighed in okay, but was told to sit and recover for a bit. I saw someone eating a popsicle and it looked like the greatest thing in the world, so I asked for one, unsure if I’d be able to eat it. Shortly after taking a seat and getting some ginger ale and a popsicle, a woman in a medical shirt came over and asked how I was doing. “I need to puke, but it’s not happening,” I said. She replied very matter-of-factly: “well, make it happen.” Then she walked away. That was all the motivation I needed, as I proceeded to the bushes to get it done. This is where I realized that watermelon was a bad choice, as all the other food I ate had been digested quickly, and the only thing that came out was watermelon and water. Unfortunately, the water I had weighed in with in my stomach was now gone. Back to dehydration. Even more unfortunately, as I kneeled there watching my body reject the nutrients it needed, I also watched my popsicle melt and slide off the stick into the dirt. Insult to injury at its finest. I just couldn’t help myself, and I started laughing at my own messed up situation.

Back in the chair, a volunteer came over and told me to get a move on. I wasn’t ready to go, but they were adamant. The cutoffs were closing in, and I wasn’t making up any time. I walked away from Devil’s Thumb feeling better than I had come in, but the feeling quickly faded, as any exertion at all caused reinvigorated nausea. And so I walked. The five mile walk down to El Dorado Creek was very long. My legs felt great and I wanted so badly to run, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I felt very non-tough here, wondering how many other people would just suck it up and run anyways. But no matter what I thought, I could barely keep my walk. I was ashamed and frustrated with my stomach. I wanted to just rip it out and see how far I could get without eating or feeling anything in there. At the bottom of the canyon, I was fed some broth and coke and had my pack refilled. I knew that unless I climbed to Michigan Bluff at a decent pace, I wouldn’t be able to make it. It was getting dark already and I realized how far off of my goal pace I was at this point. I began the climb with a safety runner, as my lights were at Michigan Bluff. He did an awesome job of talking to me, describing the trail and pointing out the stars and the sounds of the river. But I was not a good conversational companion, as I continually felt closer and closer to throwing up again. About three quarters up the climb, I realized what time it was, and knew that I would not make it. I had a vague feeling of this from the bottom of the canyon, and now I knew it was for sure. I was walking incredibly slowly, and had little time to make it to the aid. Soon after, the mounted sweeps caught up to us. I was now officially the last runner left on the course at this point in the race. This was the end.

So on to my thoughts. I have an incredible newfound respect for this race, this distance, and everyone who tackles it. I knew it would be huge, but it took 55 miles for me to begin to comprehend how huge this thing really was. And to be honest, I probably had no real business being out there. Not yet, anyways. But do I regret it? Do I regret my months of training, preparation, lifestyle choices, and planning? Hell no. I learned so much from the injuries and other issues I encountered in my journey to the start line. And I learned so much more in my 17 hours from Squaw Valley to Michigan Bluff. I was raised to embrace a go-for-broke mentality. Sometimes that works, sometimes it doesn’t. This time it didn’t, but I have always found the outcomes from this mentality to be net positive, so I will likely not change this tactic anytime soon. Biting off more than you can chew may cause you to choke, but in the meantime it will also make you a much better chewer. And while my third DNF this year stings a lot, I have so many takeaways for the future. I will no longer embrace one race per year as my capstone race, as I feel this mentality hindered my performance in earlier races in the year. I want to focus on them all and enjoy them all equally. I have a lot of experience and strength to gain as a runner before I am truly ready to run 100 miles, and I will probably wait at least three more years (and dozens more ultras) before I attempt 100 miles again. The next time I find myself at the start of a 100 (as I undoubtedly will), I want to feel 100% prepared and leaving very little to chance. I need to work on nutrition, hydration, and an understanding of the needs of my body in various conditions, as this seems to be my most common undoing. And finally, I have the most incredible group of people behind me: Kristen, my parents, her parents and brother Max, our extended families, our running buddies (Cal Poly Trail Runners, SLO Trail Runners, and everyone else I’ve met along the way), all our Auburn buddies, co-workers (present and future), roommates, and supporters. You all played a huge part in getting me to the start line. Eventually, I will make it to the finish line. You all mean so much to me and if there is ever a chance to repay the favor, I’ll be there in a heartbeat.

Next up is Kristen’s grand adventure at TRT 100! I’m super excited to pace her from mile 80 to the finish, and I hope my experience has been something for her to learn from going into her own challenge. I have no doubt that she will be the toughest person out there and I can’t wait to see what she can do.

Until next time, I need to find a fun 50k, something I can finish. Ya, that sounds nice:)

“Impossible is temporary…”
-Muhammed Ali

Do you have strong bones?

Kristen and I got the opportunity to head back home this weekend, something we had been desiring for awhile. We hadn’t seen our families since Christmas and the only chances we had had to get out of SLO were on Poly Escapes trips (Poly Escapes is awesome but it’s still work). Basically we were just happy to be headed north, back to the land of childhood, canyons and cows. For me, Saturday was a lazy day with my parents. We explored the local hills and river trails on foot and mountain bike, and just had a really nice day of hanging out. I had a little down time in the morning and decided to do some research.

I enjoy searching around online (Google Scholar is awesome) and seeing what I can learn about various topics. I came across something that I thought was pretty relevant to me as a runner and just generally as an active, health-conscious person. There was a 12 month study done way back in 1997 at the University of Melbourne on “bone mass and bone turnover in power athletes, endurance athletes, and controls.” The study looked at trained power athletes (sprinters, jumpers, hurdlers), trained endurance athletes (middle- and long-distance runners), and control subjects (non-athletes), all aged 17-26 years. If you want all the specifics, click here.

strong, happy bones!

What they found over this year-long analysis was that both power and endurance athletes had higher bone mineral density (BMD) than the control subjects in their lower limbs. On top of that, power athletes also had higher BMD in the lumbar section of their spine as well as their upper limbs. Endurance athletes did not. So what does this mean for a runner? Well, it means that while endurance specific training makes you a very efficient foot traveler, it also means that you are likely lacking overall body strength, not just in muscular structure but in bone structure as well (this becomes obvious when you see an elite endurance runner or cyclist, but is less apparent when looking at an elite adventure racer).

Personally, I do not see myself becoming a Jurek-level ultrarunner. I do however see myself working to become at least a “decent” runner, but also a “decent” cyclist, adventure racer, skier, traveler, or any other activity I might become interested in. And for those combination of pursuits, I think I could benefit from the strongest bones possible in my lower back and arms, as well as my legs. As life and training progresses, strength training makes sense to me. High mileage is of course necessary (and should be the focus) when preparing for a very high mileage race, but full-body strength training should not be neglected. Muscles = protection. Strong bones = reduced injury. Full body strength = versatility and adaptability in multiple pursuits (good when you have athletic A.D.D.). So if you’re just a runner, then cheers (seriously) to you and your incredible mindset and talents. But if you’re like me, grab some friends and get strong!

P.S.-Over the 12 month period, “modest but significant” increases in bone mineral density were seen in all subjects, athletes and controls. Does this mean that as we age (to a point), our bones continually get stronger? I hope so! That sounds wonderful:)

Resolutions

A new year can be really exciting. A chance to start something new, give up something old, or have a good excuse for doing just about anything. 2011 is going to be big year for Cody and I, calling for drastic resolutions and tough goals.

I woke up about a month ago to news that has quite possibly changed my life. I had been chosen in the lottery for the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run. In high school on a random Saturday night in June when there was nothing better to do in the small foothill town of Auburn, I used to sit with Kristen and watch the top Western States runners finish at our high school track. Sitting there in the bleachers under the bright stadium lights, I began the thought process I believe to be common in humans when witnessing such a feat. Wild (and not all that inaccurate) imaginings of what those people must have gone through in the past day. Not surprisingly, as I lay in my warm bed that night and thought of the other runners who were still on the trail (and still would be when I got up in the morning), I felt a teeny tiny spark. It was small and feeble and flickering heavily, but it had its root somewhere deep inside me. From then on, no matter how hard I tried, I could find no reasonable method of extinguishment. There was only one thing that could to be done. And it had to be done.

With a relatively small ultrarunning career under my belt, I’ve got Western States looming above me just 7 months away. I’m having runner’s knee issues and I need a solid plan. First: give up something old. I just turned 22 and was never much of a rebel in high school, so drinking I guess is still pretty new to me. But hey, I’ve come to really enjoy a good beer (But who am I kidding? I’m in college and the cheap stuff’s good too!).

No more, no matter how many blue ribbons it has!

And I know it may be sacrilege in the ultra, trail and mountain community to give up the Sacred Nectar, so please forgive me in advance. It’s not that avoiding the occasional beer is going to somehow make the 100 mile distance easy, but when I set my mind to something, I prefer to commit entirely. By giving up drinking at least until Western States, I’ll be developing a unified lifestyle with one goal: finishing that damn race (and having “fun” doing it!).

So on top of a healthy diet, no alcohol and major attempts at developing a solid sleeping schedule (we’ll see how well my last two quarters at Cal Poly play into that plan), I’ve come up with a program. Crossfit during the week, road trips to various mountain ranges on the weekends for long, hilly days. The Miwok 100k will serve as a gauge for both Kristen and I in May. I’ll spend a week or two at our friends’ house in Las Vegas after I graduate for heat acclimation, and then I’ll shuffle forward for probably close to 30 hours to end up on a rubber track that I used to despise running the mile on in PE. Only this time I’ll have a buckle in my hand.

I know I’m rambling, but I can’t talk about all this without mentioning why I’m even here writing this. To be true, it’s all Kristen’s fault:) Kristen is the entire reason I got into running at all, let alone ultrarunning. Every success I ever gain and every mile that grows my soul (that’s what running does), I owe to her. Thank you Love!

For me, I wasn’t quite lucky enough to win a spot at Western States this year. I’m still aiming my sights high, though. I’m registered for the Tahoe Rim Trail 100 in July. While I so wanted to get into Western States, I’m really excited to be looking at a 100 mile race at all. When I first started thinking about the possibility of doing an ultra, I knew that I would one day run 100 miles. I’ve always gone into my previous races with the thought that these were merely stepping stones before I reached my ultimate challenge. It feels a little strange that this is actually going to happen. I don’t know if the nerves have really hit me yet. It still seems so surreal that my dream may actually come true.

I don't eat these guys anymore, or drink their milk.

Before I can run 100 miles, I know I have to get serious with not only my running, but with how I cross-train and with what I choose to fuel my body with. I’ve been vegetarian for over 5 years now and I love it. My body feels wonderful and healthy, and I love that I can make less of an impact of the environment based on my food choices. As my New Years resolution, I decided to take this one step further by becoming vegan. I typically eat this way on my own anyways, since most animal products are either too expensive, too high in saturated fat for my liking, or both. The one area that I know will be a challenge for me is sweets. I’m the type that can never resist cookies if they’re in the same room as me and I spend a ridiculous amount of time at the frozen yogurt shop, Yogurt Creations. But I really think this is the right step for me to make. Not only am I taking a stronger stand on my dedication to the Earth, but by cutting out food products that tend to weigh me down or make me feel bad, I know I can take my training to the next level. For all of you wondering, I also practically never eat processed foods and I try to eat a diet based on almost entirely whole grains and lots fruits and veggies, which I know plays a large role in my performance.