Jumping off the tubeless bridge.

I realize I'm late to the party, but I finally set up one of my bikes as tubeless.  It wasn't very difficult to do...well at least at first it wasn't.  They held for two days and then this morning, with a ride planned for the evening, I woke to find my rear tire flat.  I tried to fix it in the few minutes I had before work.  Ten minutes later, with a puddle of Stan's on the floor and a mild case of frostbite I gave up and rode a different bike in to work.  After work I did it properly and managed to get the tire re-inflated...four CO2 cartridges later.

W/R/T the advantages of tubeless:

• Fewer flats: I think you know where I stand here.  I've had two flats this year and half of those have been tubeless flats.  I've seen more folks get flats with tubes, it's true, but I've seen a few get flats with tubeless as well and given the ratio of tubes/no-tubes, well you get the picture.  I don't see much difference (yet)
• Run lower tire pressure without pinching: Without a tube to pinch I suppose this is self evident, but tubeless are subject to "burping" which is basically the same thing in my mind ie., if you run your pressure too low you risk getting a flat.  Also, perhaps you won't pinch or burp, but if you are in a position where that was a possibility then you certainly risk damaging your rim.  It looks to me like a wash here.
• Better ride quality: I haven't noticed poor ride quality with tubes, but I will have to wait for some singletrack time with the new setup to figure that out.  

So why am I even doing it?  Well:

Books Read: March

I'm a little behind on writing these.  Reading is a lot easier for me than writing (I expect that's true for most people).  Anyway, March shows how getting a Kindle has influenced my reading.  I did a lot more reading of old stuff that I can get for free and not so much new(er) stuff from the library.

Trails that Never End, Tim Kelley.

Endurance cross-country skiing in Alaska.  Everything I ever wanted and more.  I dropped $15 on this e-book as soon as I heard about it.  Usually I'd be reluctant to spend that much, but since I read Tim's blog frequently and I've learned a lot about skiing and camping from him I didn't hesitate.  Honestly I was a little worried that this would be a how-to manual and negate all the hard work and research I had put into learning how to ski like I do (maybe I'm beginning to understand Mike Curiak).  It's not.  There's a lot to glean from what he says, but mostly this is a record of Tim's early ('90s) ski trips across the Alaska backcountry.  He tells a great story and there are hundreds of great photos to go along with it.  I'd recommend it to anyone who has an interest in this type of skiing (which hardly anyone seems to). 

Farthest North Vol. I, Fridtjof Nansen.

Another book that the Kindle allowed me to read.  It's unavailable in print, but no charge on Project Gutenberg.  For anyone who doesn't know who Nansen is, well, you should and you should worship him as the mortal god that he is.  This book covers his arctic journey in the Fram from the planning stage until he and Johansen set out for the North Pole by dogsled and ski (that journey is covered in Vol. II).  While the book is a little repetitious at times (being on a ship for two years will do that) his thoughts about humanity and nature are well worth the read.  If I might be allowed to say so it is an inspiring story and makes one believe that anything is possible. 

Various stories, Jack Vance.

Along with The Chronicles of Narnia, The Matrix, and the band Rush, Jack Vance's science fiction is one of those things that I'm supposed to like (given my dispositions), but just can't.  I could give you a rundown of the reasons, from trite plots to rampant sexism that make me cringe about his stories, but I won't.   I don't think I'll be trying to read him again. 

Various stories, Fritz Leiber.

Lieber is perhaps the opposite of Vance in my opinion.  The stories I read are not his popular Lankhmar fantasy series, but a selection of sci-fi stories that were pretty obviously written quickly and for publication in pulp magazines.  But they're good.  In just a few pages he manages to create interesting characters in thought provoking situations.  The classic "twist" ending that characterizes most sci-fi short story writing is certainly there, but always alludes to a greater truth and isn't just a convenient hook on which to hang a story.  I may end up paying good money to finally read the adventures of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser. 

The World Set Free, H. G. Wells. 

Published in 1914, this prescient novel introduced the concepts of aerial bombardment and the atomic bomb well ahead of their time (that sentence was not intended to sound like a "question" on Jeopardy).  While the first half of the novel focuses on a world war, the second is of more interest to me.  It's the opposite of the later 1984 by George Orwell.  Rather than describing a socialist dystopia, Wells describes a socialist utopia arising out of the ashes of a world changing war.  It's a sentiment (and perhaps a story) that inspired Orwell before he became disillusioned after the Spanish Civil War.  I have to admit that it is refreshing to read an optimistic novel that predicts a better world.  Whether or not it's realistic is debatable.  Also of interest is a chapter towards the end that discusses feminism.  I don't know enough to properly criticize it, but it's certainly fairer to women than Vance ever was.  

Not Always So, Shunryu Suzuki. 

Published posthumously, this book, along with his first, Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind, is a series of short lectures that Suzuki gave to his students.  The form suits the style of Zen much better than a lengthy and logically structured book.  It's tough to say much about it, but the message of single-tasking and constant surprise strikes a real chord with me.  It's too easy to get stuck in a rut and not realize that you're even in one.  Breaking those habits of mind are difficult, but I think that through reading (and practicing) this, along with some works by Thich Nhat Hanh, and David Foster Wallace, I am beginning to recognize my thoughts and stay more present. 

Pro Motocross and Off-Road Motorcycle Riding Techniques, Donnie Bales and Gary Semics.

I checked this out from the library in the hopes that I'd pick up some tips on riding bicycles off road.  I have never been able to find a good technique guide for mountain biking, but I had always heard that riding motorcycles helps biking skills and vise-versa.  That may be true, but this manual didn't have much to offer for me.  I did pick up some tips on braking, but cornering still eludes me and none of the advice in this book really seemed to apply.  It looks like I'll have to find a teacher somewhere else. 

A very pretentious TransIowa race report.

I get uncomfortable when I hear stuff about how "X race changed my life" and stuff like that.  I'm suspicious of epiphanies (my greatest epiphany during an ultra was the realization that quesadillas are Mexican grilled cheese).  So when people tell me I'm "a god", or I'm an inspiration, or I should be talking myself up, and ask me "what it means to me" I treat it with a large dose of skepticism and humility.  Nothing happens out there that doesn't happen at home.  The only thing that separates me from someone who didn't do TransIowa is that I signed up and showed up.

It isn't that there isn't anything special about the event.  I do appreciate all the hard work that Mark and the volunteers put into organizing this thing.  I enjoy meeting and hanging out with like minded individuals.  I hope to do more of it in the future, but it's not like we're saving lives out there.  We all make choices and this is where mine have led.

All philosophy aside TransIowa went really well for me this year.  In spite of  a winter that didn't allow a lot of bike training, a sprained ankle a month out, coming down with a cold a week out, and whatever other obstacles presented themselves I came into the race in good enough shape.  Not the best shape, but good enough.

My plan was to go out and ride my own race and I did that.  I rode by myself pretty much from the beginning and never really did ride with a group.  My single speed gearing helped prevent that.  I had to push hard on the uphills and spin on the flats preventing the usual "easy on the hard stuff, hard on the easy stuff."  For the last 140 miles (including the entire overnight) I didn't see another cyclist (okay I did see Grelk and one other in Brooklyn, but it turned out they were dropping from the race so I dropped them), but my favorite riding partner is myself so I was never uncomfortable with being alone. 

Around midnight I found that there were hills out there I could no longer climb on the bike.  My knees would no longer take it.  So I walked, no shame in it, but I kept moving.

A check of the cue sheets after crossing Highway 30 near Montour made me realize that we were going to have to put in 100 miles between convenience stores.  We had had the warning that we would should be prepared for that distance without resupply, but I didn't really expect Mark to call our bluff.  Going through the shuttered town of Brooklyn at 2am was the low point of my race, but I knew I could manage another 15 miles to where the cue sheets promised a refuel.

The convenience store on I-80 midway between Brooklyn and Victor was salvation.  Warmth, coffee, breakfast sandwiches.  The attendant was the most enthusiastic sober guy I've ever met at 4am.  If anybody could give you a pep talk to keep you going it was this guy. 

I divided the remaining 40 miles of the race into 10 mile segments.  10 miles (let's push it to 11) then sit down in the road and eat a Snickers and drink as much water as possible.  Repeat.  I skipped the last break and rode the last 15 miles in one stretch. 

The finish to one of these things is always a shock.  After the simplicity of the road, nothing to do but pedal, I once again have to talk to people, make decisions, the rest of my life. 

Gravel Dude Challenge Announced

For updates click here.

For a couple of years now I've wanted to put on my own triathlon challenge.  Not a race, but just an event to see if I (or anyone else) can do it.  So here it is:

1st Annual Gravel Dude Challenge (aka IronMatt)

• What: a 2.4 mile swim in a gravel pit, a 112 mile gravel road bike ride, and a 26.2 mile trail run (these distances are a total coincidence, I swear)
• Date & Time: Saturday June 29th @ 7am (just happens to be my 35th birthday)
• Location: West Peterson's Pits north of Ames, IA
• Entry Fee: $0
• Prizes: a warm feeling
• Support: none (well okay, I'll have the bike ride go by a convenience store for you)

Let me know if you're interested and think you can do an unsupported  gravel/trail triathlon of this totally coincidental distance.  Remember this isn't a race and you can't win.  Maybe we'll ride/run together.  Maybe we won't.  I supply a route and you do your best to complete it, that's all. 

The plan.

Reading Maximum Climbing made me think more about the goals that I have and what it will take to reach them.  The big difference here is between dreams and goals.  I have been too much of a dreamer and not enough of a goal reacher in the past.  Dreams are things that you think about but don't do.  Goals are things you strive for.  If I have anything to thank competing in ultras for it is that realization. 

It's tough to announce these goals for fear that I won't reach them, but I know that with your badgering I'll be more motivated to achieve them.  With that in mind here are two goals that have been dreams for too long:

• Ski the Iditarod Trail Invitational in 2015.  This is something I've thought about for a while and now realize is within my grasp.  It won't be easy and I'll have to overcome some bad races in the past year to get there, but I am confident I have the ability to do so.  Of course it isn't all in my power.  The race is an "invitational" after all.  I'm not guaranteed a spot, but I think I can convince the race directors.  
• Finish college.  I will be going back to school this fall, part time for now at DMACC and then back to a four year institution.  I had been waiting for a sign from God that I was supposed to go back to school, but realized that wasn't going to happen.  It is time to shift the onus off God and onto myself.  It's going to be a lot of hard work and a big time commitment. 

Thanks in advance for the badgering.  

Books Read: February

February's books are pretty heavily influenced by my failure at Arrowhead and the upcoming TransIowa. I didn't get much fiction read. I made it halfway through another Malazan book, but got distracted by/focused on training books.

In order to read one of these books I had to buy it for the Kindle from Amazon. I wasn't too thrilled about this (I don't feel like all the consequences of digital media have shaken out quite yet), but I broke down and did it anyway. At first I just used a free download reader on my computer, but I found a cheap used Kindle and picked that up so now I have one of those. I'm finding it pretty handy for reading public domain stuff that I can't find elsewhere, but I'm still not entirely comfortable spending money on it. For instance the other day I did pay for a Kindle book. I clicked the button (virtually) and realized that I had just spent $15 without really thinking about it. I don't regret buying the book, but I'm going to have to be careful, even with $1.99 books.

The Obree Way, Graeme Obree.
This book falls into the "so crazy it just might work" category.  It reminds me a bit of Jardine's Beyond Backpacking when that first came out.  If Obree didn't have the results to back up his training program (which he does in spades) no one would give this book a second look.  What he proposes (and what is starting to come out in the more scientific literature) is a radically slimmed down training program.  Fewer rides at higher intensity with more and better rest in between.  What he isn't proposing is a slackening of dedication.  If anything he's asking for more dedication and faith in the program.  Honestly, I tried it for three weeks when the weather wasn't so good (his program involves an indoor trainer ride as the core of the training cycle) and I did learn a bit about how to push myself, and am still using some of his breathing and pedaling techniques, but I didn't feel like I was getting the time in the saddle that is necessary for endurance rides that I like to do.  He is a bit of a specialist in one hour and shorter races after all. 

The Cyclist's Training Bible, Joe Friel. 
This is the classic training book.  It's pretty much all about periodization and I get that.  He's also a stickler for numbers and believer in power meters, heart rate monitors, vo2 max, et cetera.  I get that too, but I don't feel like those numbers are of much use to me (Obree too is fanatical about numbers, but he is only interested in one: average speed on your weekly turbo session).  For me training is all about figuring out how it feels to ride a good pace; how it feels to ride 100 miles and intuiting if I can speed up or need to slow down to meet my goals.  Heart rate and wattage don't mean much when all they tell you is, hey, you're right, you're not feeling good today.  As a measure of progress, maybe, but I don't care about my wattage, I care about finishing races.  That's the progress I want.  I'm coming to the conclusion that most coaches don't know much about the type of race I like to do. 

Maximum Climbing, Eric Hörst
Where the previous two books were mostly about physical training Hörst's book is almost entirely about mental training.  I was lucky to stumble across this book at the public library.  I don't know why it caught my eye, after all it is a book about rock climbing, not running, skiing, or cycling, and I have never been a rock climber.  Still, this book is exactly the book I was looking for.  It discusses in detail the mental blocks that hold you back in any endeavor, not just climbing, and how to move past them and develop a positive attitude to not just improve, but enjoy your improvement.  If anything this might be a handbook for life (sorry if it sounds like I've joined a cult.  I don't think I have.).  Whole chapters are devoted to analyzing what is holding you back, goal setting, self-talk, how to approach your training, among other things.  While Hörst is cognizant of the science he is good at explaining concepts in an easy to understand and not too technical way where other authors get bogged down.  He also doesn't shy away from admitting that climbing is dangerous and we have to accept some risk.  He's not of the "always roped in" school of climbing.  I get the feeling that rock climbing is closer to the type of race that I like to do than cyclocross or marathon running.  The goal for me is experiencing the race and finishing, much as in climbing the goal is to climb well, enjoy it, and reach the top.  I am purchasing a copy of this book for myself to re-read. 

Deep Survival, Laurence Gonzales.
This one was passed on to me by a friend who thought it might apply to the kind of wilderness racing that I do.  Gonzales' book is not about building fires or stocking up on canned food and ammo.  It's about the attitude necessary to survive a disaster situation (whatever that disaster might be).  While it's impossible to give a one size fits all solution, sometimes luck plays a bigger role than we like to admit, Gonzales gets as close as it's probably possible to come.  It really comes down to preparation (as applicable) and being resilient.  Recognizing that you are in a survival situation and things have changed is probably the biggest thing.  Acting as though nothing is wrong is the worst thing you can do (and apparently often the only thing people do).  The more I think about this book the more I like it.  Initially I found it to be a little bit pop-psych in it's talk about brain anatomy and such, but if you look a little deeper there are good lessons to be learned in the examples Gonzales gives and the conclusions drawn.  Case studies are better than MRIs in this case. 

These last two books by Hörst and Gonzales used the phrase "Zen like acceptance" or something like it.  I've read a bit about Zen in the past and I like it.  It's an interesting attitude (and I think it's more of an attitude than a religion or philosophy) and one I am going to explore more of.  I expect you'll see a few Zen books in the March books read. 

BWCA Ski Camping

"Adventure is just bad planning." -Roald Amundsen

I could just as easily start this off with a hack of Tolstoy's opening quote from Anna Karenina: Happy trips are all alike.  So the Boundary Waters winter camping trip that I took at the end of February was pretty uneventful.  There isn't really any drama or adventure to relate.  It was a great time.  I wish I had more to say about it. 

I'm used to racing circumstances like Arrowhead where every moment is a bit of an adventure.  There is doubt about the outcome.  By contrast the BWCA trip was easy.  No bivy sacks; we slept in a heated tent.  No energy gels or electrolyte drinks; bacon for breakfast and homemade soups for supper.  No need to make 56 miles per day just to finish; our longest day was less than 10 miles.  In spite of all that I still had a great time. 

We snowshoed in from Sawbill Lake, across Alton, and pulled our sleds to Beth Lake where we set up camp.  Once there, with a warm tent to rest in, we found some firewood, and ate. 

The second day we skied across a longish portage to Grace Lake.  The skiing on the portages was somewhat challenging, but it was a good illustration of how much I've improved since Kaukopartio last year.  I'm much more comfortable on tight trails and steep climbs and descents than I was a year ago.  We skied to the west end of Grace and portaged about halfway to Phoebe then turned around and skied back to Beth by way of Ella Lake.  Then we ate and slept.  (The toughest part of the trip may have been sleeping close to 12 hours per night!)

The next day we skied all the way to Phoebe and then up a channel to Knight Lake where we took a break for lunch and then returned the same way we had come.  On the last portage I tried out my climbing skins as I had been slipping a bit on some of the climbs (not to mention not having used the skins ever).  They worked fine (no adventure here). 

The penultimate day we snowshoed to the top of a hill overlooking Beth lake.  It was a pretty strenuous climb, especially in my huge, three foot long, snowshoes, but overall it was pretty short.  We got a good view of the lake and I got a lesson in lichens.  We got back to camp pretty early so a couple of us did a short ski trip to Ella Lake which we explored a little more thoroughly than the previous day. 

The last day we packed up camp and snowshoed out.  So, to sum up, we ate a lot of good food, slept a lot, and did some casual skiing.  I guess that's what vacations are supposed to be like. 

It was a great chance to try out my new Åsnes skis with Karhu Meta style bindings.  The skis are very wide (75/65/70 sidecut) and have excellent float in the deep unbroken snow we encountered.  While it wasn't exactly easy to break trail, it was very doable, something I wouldn't have trouble doing for hours on end.  The bindings, combined with Kamik Green Bay boots, gave plenty of control, though I wasn't exactly demanding of them.  I never got any blisters or pain from them which is not something I can say of any other ski boot (Nokians excepted). 

Snowshoeing was something new to me and I was surprised how little experience it takes to use them.  I really expected to be tripping over my toes more than I was.  The huge shoes were great on the open lakes and deep snow, but not so great on steep and tight terrain where the folks wearing mountaineering snowshoes did much better.  That shouldn't come as a surprise. 

I do hope I get to do more trips like this one.  Mostly it's the land that I love about it.  I've never had a bad time in the Boundary Waters.  But I could do with a little bit more skiing. 

Training plans and resurrected bikes

Just a quick update to let everyone know what I'm up to (and I know you're interested).

I started TransIowa training a little over two weeks ago now. Honestly it's been kind of a slow start. I haven't been doing much in the way of long gravel rides or really much of any outdoor riding at all. (Okay, I wrote this yesterday and I did a metric today, but really that isn't much to speak of.)

Mostly I've been doing my research. I've been reading the Friel book, Graeme Obree's training book, and a mental training for rock climbing book. I hope to say more on all of these later, but for now I'll say that Obree's plan is so crazy it just might work and appeals way more to my INFP personality (mostly the NF) than Friel.

In accordance with the Obree plan I did a half hour all out on an indoor trainer. That was brutal. I have never been so beat after such a short ride, but it does target one of my weaknesses: sustained power. I managed 30kph, but I doubt that translates to real speed very well. The trainer is a real beast, much harder than any other trainer I've used. Next week: 31kph.

The Bike of Theseus is ready to ride as of last night (yes, I have two bikes known as Bike of Theseus). This one is a singlespeed and I hope it will be my race bike for this year. I am giving aerobars another try after abandoning them two years ago. If the gravel is good and there are headwinds they may be a boon, if there are crosswinds and loose rock I will be ditching them (perhaps literally). 

The view post-workout

 

 

 

Books Read: January

As you probably know I'm a big reader.  I make time for it every day and don't feel quite right if I'm not reading.  It's funny when I run into people in my neighborhood who assume I'm studying, ie. why else would I read?   I read for entertainment, curiostiy, and self-improvement.  Hardly ever because it's assigned (that was a problem in college).  I didn't get through as much as I usually do in the month of January, but here's what I did read:

Enchiridion, Epictetus:
The classic of Stoic philosophy.  Reminds me why I got into philosophy in college.  Practical, short, and useful.  I can't believe I hadn't read it before. Badly in need of a better translation. 

The Year of the Flood, Margaret Atwood:
Continuing the trans-apocalyptic Oryx and Crake story.   A little more of a survivalist fantasy story than the previous novel.  Cool to think about, but it's doubtful that preppers will really be all that prepared for it.  Also an interesting meditation on the uses of religion and tradition in the continuation and transfer of knowledge. 

Return of the Crimson Guard, Ian C. Esslemont:
A continuation of my current favorite fantasy series (Malazan Book of the Fallen) by Steven Erikson and Ian Esslemont.  These books are a real contrast to the typical Tolkien influenced fantasy lit.  They remind me a bit of Frank Herbert's writing in that they require close reading and a tolerance of incomplete explanation. 

Edit: I forgot one.
Thrive, Dan Buettner:
A follow on to Blue Zones about the happiest places in the world.  The upshot?  Work less, try new things, have friends. Inspired me to take a week off and go to the BWCA later this month. 

Arrowhead 2013: Post Mortem

Yesterdays post was me getting my emotions out.  I needed to do that.  Todays is going to be more analytical.  What I did right.  What I did wrong.  Improvements for next year.  Look out, it's a long one.

All of my equipment worked adequately or better this year.  There's very little wrong with my setup.  I was surprised how well I was able to ski in the hills with a backpack on.  Granted, soft snow helped with the ski handling, but I only lost my balance a few times and only had to bail (intentional crash) on one hill.  So the backpack gets a big thumbs up.

I'll use the same skis next year too.  Skating on the classic race skis worked great.  I don't think I was much slower than I would have been on skate skis.  Shorter poles were mixed.  I probably would have been faster on long skate poles, but my arms would have been more tired.  I'll stick with the 155s.

I carried too many clothes and not the right clothes.  The Craft jersey and tights I wore have been great in a lot of conditions, but they weren't right for the temperatures and precipitation we had.  I should have left out the fleece vest and down pants.  I would still have been fine down to -20f without those.  I was geared up for -40 temps again, which is smart I guess, but I didn't have anything waterproof or cool enough.  I think a lightweight wicking base layer and a w/b shell jacket and pants would have been best.  I have this gear, but I use it for spring cycling, not usually for winter skiing.  Bringing that gear up with me next year might be a good call.  I can always leave it out if the forecast is for cold.

I carried too much food.  Not a whole lot too much, but a pound of Mike & Ikes for each half is too much.  Half that would be fine.  I carried trail mix and the candy in cycling waterbottles in the bottle pockets of my pack which worked fine, but I might go with ziplocs next year as they're lighter and no less accessible.  Either way is fine.

For a wax kit I carried a tin each of red, blue, and green grip wax, a tin of paste glidewax, and a combination cork/scraper.  For the conditions the wax choices were correct.  I just used the blue, but I could easily have needed the other two.  Next year I think I'll cut down the tins and just carry a smaller chunk of each wax.  I won't be using an entire tin in 135 miles.  I will also experiment with using my palm instead of a waxing cork.  If it works just as well I can just bring along a scraper and not deal with the bulk of the cork (it weighs practically nothing).

My bindings froze up several times.  Warm fresh snow and the occasional hike-a-ski saw to that.  I was able to use my fingers and occasionally my pole tips to dig out the packed snow and ice, but having a dedicated clearing tool would have been great.  I have a combo screwdriver/scraper/bottle opener that would have worked well.  I'll have it handy next year.

So much for equipment.  How did I do physically?  Pretty well I'd say.  I have a few nagging blisters on my feet, but nothing I didn't expect.  I will always quest for a blister free foot, but I just don't think it's going to happen.  I was evenly sore all around.  Both my upper and lower body got a workout, but not too much for either.  It would have been nice to do a few longer ski workouts before going on a long ski like this, but the weather didn't really permit it.  I will be switching over the bindings on my roller-skis so that I can use my race boots in training.  That may help with both endurance and blisters.

Technique wise I was really happy.  I was able to keep a good pace without getting out of breath.  A big improvement since Tuscobia.  I used a couple of "form focuses" to keep my technique in check.  Two of those that worked particularly well were focusing on lifting my skis and placing them under me (rather than pushing them out) and sighting along the gliding ski for longer glide.  The second was particularly useful a few places on the trail where there was brush threatening to trip me up.  I was better able to avoid a fall. 

Eating and drinking were so so.  I only drank a liter of water in the first 35 miles and ran out with five miles to go in the second 35.  So I really didn't drink enough throughout.  I foolishly thought that two liters would get me by from Gateway to Melgeorge's.  I should have filled up all the way to three liters.  I probably didn't eat as much as I should have either.  I didn't have as easy access to my food in the backpack as I did when I dragged the sled.  I'll either have to take more food breaks or find a better way to carry my food.

Here's the big one: mental.  I was feeling good going in to Melgeorge's, but by the time I left I was ready to quit.  What happened?  A few things: First, I tried to get some sleep, a good idea, but couldn't sleep for a couple of reasons.  I was too wound-up and not really tired enough to sleep.  Also the cabin was too loud and warm for me.  Every time I laid down I would just listen to everything going on, people coming and going, and couldn't get comfortable.  I should either have moved on or brought earplugs.

Second, I listened to a lot of negativity while I was there.  The cyclists coming in were all complaining (with good reason) about the trail conditions and how bad, how impossible it was.  I listened to that and took it too much to heart.  Before now I've never given much credence to the "keep away from negative talkers" line before.  Now I'm a believer.  I should have seen it for what it was and gotten out before it got to me. 

Third, there were a lot of people who I like and like to be around at the checkpoint.  I wanted to be a part of that, being alone for another 20+ hours wasn't as attractive.

Fourth: I had agreed with Mike (another skier) that I'd wake him at 5 AM so we could leave together.  I thought about leaving much earlier when I realized that I couldn't sleep, but elected not to because I didn't want to let him down.  I should have just woken him and told him I was leaving.  He probably wouldn't have minded too much.

So yeah, it was the siren call of Melgeorge's that brought me down.  I will know better next time.  I'll stay away from the negativity and keep moving if that's what I feel like I need to do.  Race your own race, as they say. 


A note about socks:  I started the race with nordic ski socks over compression socks.  This was too much sock for the temperatures.  At Gateway I removed the wool ski socks and just used the compression socks.  That worked pretty well.  I think the compression socks helped with calf and shin soreness that I had experienced in previous skate ski races.  I think I'll use those again next year.

Arrowhead 2013: A Year of Regrets

This is going to be a tough one to write.  Races like this peel back the layers and let you know what you're really made of.  Sometimes it hurts.  Sometimes it's not something you want to see, but if you don't see it how can you fix it?

 This is the first year that I have dropped out of the Arrowhead 135 due entirely to my own weakness of will.  Actually I might be the only person who didn't have a good reason to drop this year.

 Upwards of eight inches of snow (20 cm) during the race made everyone's race difficult.  The bikers had to push rather than ride, the runners had to slog through it, but us skiers, it was our year.  Actually I was in perhaps the best position of anyone there.  I had skated the first half on classic race skis and when the snow started getting heavy I applied some grip wax and switched to classic technique.  It was working great.

 I had a really great first 75 miles.  I arrived at Melgeorge's two hours ahead of where I had expected and feeling great.  75 miles (120 km) in less than 17 hours, but I squandered all of that.   I started thinking.  More specifically I got it in my head that I wasn't going to be able to finish.  I thought to myself that there was no way I could do it.  The challenges were too great.  It was going to take me too long. 

 The thing is I have done it.  I walked for 56 hours through -40 degree cold to finish in 2010.  This would have been easy compared to that.  Of course it wouldn't have been easy, but as has been noted before we "don't do it because it's easy."

 Somehow I managed to fool myself into thinking I couldn't make progress through the snow.  The funny thing is that I was making good progress through the snow when I convinced myself of that.  I was probably moving 3+ mph (5 kph) when I thought that.   That's a lot better than a finishing pace.

 As you can probably tell I'm pretty bummed out about it.  I really regret having dropped, but there's nothing I can do about that anymore.   That's in the past.  I have to move on and prepare for the next thing.  As I said to another skier who dropped, sometimes you need a setback to remind you why you do these things. 

Post-Triple D and Pre-Arrowhead

I suppose I'd better get a blog post done before I head up to I-Falls for the big dance. 

Triple D was last week in Dubuque and it didn't disappoint.  Well, actually it did.  There was no snow and so I couldn't ski.  I had hoped for a tune-up ski going in to the Arrowhead.  A proof that I could do it.  That wasn't to be, but I had sent the check in and so I biked it. 

The course was great and would have been greater if there had been a good 8" of snow on the ground.  The off road snowmachine and ATV trails were a lot of fun.  It's good to see landowners willing to work with a race and allow us to bike across private property.  I wish there were more of that in this country.   Parts of the course, particularly the Heritage Trail, were rather icy and I did go down a few times. 

I took the race fairly easy.  I never pushed myself so much that I hurt which is the right thing a week before a big race.  I did injure my wrist somewhat in an icy crash.  It's not sprained or broken, no swelling, full range of motion, but it does hurt when I roll it (pitch and yaw are fine).  Some have suggested that I "bruised the bone" but I'm not sure that's even a thing. 

Anyway, Arrowhead.  I'm nervous.  That's good.  I should be.  I failed at Tuscobia because I wasn't ready to commit myself.  I am commited this time.  It will be difficult, but so long as there aren't any freak accidents I should be able to do it.  Two things I need to remember that I forgot at Tuscobia are: This is your race, it doesn't matter how others are doing.  And, there are 60 hours in the race, use them all if you have to. 

The skis are waxed.  The list has been checked once (two more times should do it).  All that is left is to get some dinner and a good night's sleep. 

In Polite Company

Social media has been awfully caustic lately. More caustic than during the election which might be saying something. I hear from some folks that what I'm seeing is the extreme minority. That nobody really believes that stuff. A quick survey of my “friends” reveals that that simply isn't the case. People really do believe that stuff. Regardless, a lot of what I am seeing is very disturbing to me. It makes me angry and while being angry may work for some people it does not work for me. It becomes self-destructive.

I have seen smart people say dumb things, reasonable people say unreasonable things, and good people say evil things. Some folks that I have a lot of respect for have said some really hurtful things. I have been told in no uncertain terms that “my brain damage is terminal.” I could simply “unfriend” or block these people, but I know from personal experience that these are good people whose opinions I often want to hear. 

Some of them really are my friends.

This blog post could turn into a haranguing, telling everyone to tone it down or knock it off, but I know that that won't work. What I am searching for here is a way for me to disagree with people I like. A way to appreciate people who sometimes insult me and my opinions.

What this amounts to, for me, is remembering the good times. Remembering what we have in common and realizing that those times will come again or if they don't that they really were good times. There were no tricks.

I am probably as baffling to these people as they are to me.

Desperation or determination?

I haven't written lately because I haven't had time to put my thoughts together and write.  I've been far too busy skiing.  Now, however, that has come to an end.  Last night I went out and skied from slush pile to slush pile in 48f (9C).  It was bad, but I got a good hour and a half of slogging in.  Today though the temperature has dropped and those slush piles are patches of ridged ice.  I might be desperate and/or determined, but I'm not going to waste my time with that. 

I have solved a few of the problems that presented themselves at Tuscobia.  I remembered how I solved my blister problem three years ago the last time I skied Arrowhead.  Dress socks.  Thin nylon dress socks worn underneath my wool ski socks really did the trick that year and in the weeks since Tuscobia they have done it again.  Breaking in the boots hasn't hurt either. 

One of the frustrating/rewarding things about skiing is that every time I go out I find myself learning something new.  One friend calls it "opening up locks".  Learning to keep my hips forward, learning to keep my weight over the ski.  As usual it is one thing to say "complete weight transfer" and another to actually do it.  Even choice of ski makes a huge difference.  Some skis are forgiving of sloppy skiing, some aren't.  I am finding that my chosen race skis are not forgiving, they are fast. 

A little more testing needs to be done with my cold weather clothing and camping gear.  It is surprising how many little things need to be changed when you go from pulling a pulk to carrying a backpack.  With a pulk carrying a few extra pounds or cubic inches isn't an issue.  It is a big deal in the backpack. 

I have started to have anxiety dreams about Arrowhead.  That is a good sign.  It means that I am working on my problems, even in my sleep.

There goes my shot at the Hrimthurs.

I now have the dubious distinction of DNFing twice in one race. I entered the 150 mile Tuscobia ski race and dropped out after 30 miles. Then, since I had plenty of time on my hands, I entered the 35 mile ski race. I made it 5 miles in that one.

So what went wrong? Lots of things. The proximate reasons for dropping from the race (both times) were blisters and a sense that I was working way too hard. The deeper reasons are that I wasn't adequately trained for skiing and my mind simply wasn't in the race.

The blisters, or mostly just the blister on the instep of my left foot, were largely the result of having only worn these boots once in the past year. Yep, once. You simply can't expect to put on a pair of boots, especially stiff skate boots, and ski a long distance without getting blisters. I could have suffered through it. I've done it before, but I really didn't want to beat myself up so much that I couldn't walk for a week afterwards. Again, I've done that before. Maybe that's just what it takes to do a 150 mile race. I guess I wasn't up to it.

As for working too hard I am not sure what is up with that. For the first fifteen miles or so I was good, but then I started stopping every mile or two. I didn't feel tired or anything I just had to stop. Whenever I stopped I noticed that my heart rate was way too high. I don't wear a heart rate monitor so I can't tell you what it was exactly, but I know it wasn't something I could have sustained for 40 hours. It felt more like a cyclocross race than an endurance race. I think my cardio-fitness level is okay so the only conclusion I can come to is that my ski technique isn't up to snuff.

Speaking of technique, there were a couple of things that even I noticed could use some work. One, I wasn't always managing to glide fully on the ski. It was more like stumbling than skating at times. I was only using the inside edge of the ski and not getting all my weight over the ski. Two, and this is related, my knee wasn't tracking straight over the ski. That makes it hard to get good glide and is a lot harder on the legs and knees.

Equipment still needs some tweaking before Arrowhead too. I used classic skis but skated on them in the manner of Tim Kelly.  There is something to it. I didn't have any (extra) problems with it though as I was using shorter poles (155 cm rather than 165 cm) I couldn't double pole with the same power/speed as I normally would. On the other hand I found I could Wassberg/V2 pretty well with the short poles.

I did find my arms starting to cramp towards the end of my 30 mile ski which tells me a few things. 1)I wasn't drinking enough. 2) I was using my arms too much. 3) I wasn't using my abs/core/bodyweight as well as I should.

One reason for using the classic skis was so that I could classic ski if occasion warranted. About 20 miles in I did apply some kickwax to try and stride, but I couldn't seem to get much kick. The wax I had taken with me is supposed to be a wide temperature range “racing” wax, but I haven't had much luck with it. I have a lot more luck with the good old basic kickwaxes. I will stick to those in the future.

My hydration system needs some work. With the pack fully loaded my gear squeezes the bladder and forces water into the hose even if I have cleared it. That leads to a frozen hose in cold weather and needs to be fixed if I'm going to continue to use this pack. I have a few ideas of how to deal with the problem, but it will require some testing.

By the way, mentioning that you have blisters to a runner is like mentioning you have a bit of a sniffle to your mother.

It never ends.

If I'm going to keep blogging at this pace I am going to have to expand my subject range from endurance sports and into other interests of mine (of which there actually are some).

As may be obvious I do a lot of reading and honestly I'm not very discriminating about what I read. I read everything that comes to hand and sometimes that's not very literary. But I am always reading. I really don't know what I would do without being in the middle of a book. When one ends I start another. Chain reading I guess.

Lately though it has come to my attention that other folks have different attitudes and habits about reading. A few of these strike me as particularly odd.

One friend of mine is saving some of one particular author “for later” because he doesn't want to run out. It is true that this particular author is unlikely to write any more (he's dead) and has been an inspiration to many, but the behavior still seems bizarre. The way I see it there are new books coming out every day. Some of those are going to be of interest to you. Some of those are going to be good. And some will even be great. I understand that there will never be another author X, but that doesn't prevent someone from being just as good in a different sort of way. I know I will never again read Tolkien's The Silmarillion for the first time. That's okay I have found a lot of other books and authors that are just as good in their own way. Nor am I particularly off put by having the ending “spoiled”. The journey is just as important as the destination (this of coming from someone who saw the ending of The Usual Suspects before seeing the rest.)

Another person I know only reads two authors. He reads them over and over, but only those two. He has found what he likes I guess. This is equally, no, even more bizarre. Granted the two authors he reads are pretty darn good, but it seems so limiting. I wonder how many other authors he read before he came to the conclusion that those were the authors for him. Again I'll use the example of Tolkien. I read The Silmarillion perhaps 12 times in one year. I was a little obsessed back then (I still am just about different things), but I read other things. I read essays about Tolkien, his writing, published notes, and even studied his created languages (no, I can't really speak elvish, just a few phrases). But I got over it, within a year or so I was reading Dostoevsky, then Pirsig, and so on. I did re-read The Silmarillion and The Hobbit a few months ago and quite enjoyed it.

Now comes the most surprising and probably most common weirdness of all. Apparently some people, when they come close to the end of a book actually slow down and read it slower. Only reading a few lines at a time. Spreading it out and savoring it. Not wanting the book to end. This is completely unfathomable to me. If anything when I come to the end of a book I forget everything else and dive in completely. I read to all hours of the night throwing caution, meals, and sleep to the wind. It's not so much that I want the book to end, but I am so eager to see what comes next, how it plays out. Besides, I know that as soon as I am finished there will be another book waiting for me.

It's not a principle thing.

I've lived a car-free life for a while now. Actually I've never had a car (though at times I have had pretty much free access to them). It's not so bad for the most part. I bike or walk pretty much everywhere which is great in town. Out of town it's not so great. Within about 15 miles it's no big deal, but if I want to go further I pretty much have to plan my day around it.

The past couple of months though it's been a little more inconvenient. In October there was a bike race and a run I had planned on going to but couldn't because of transportation. This weekend I had considered going north to find snow, but didn't in part because no one else seemed to want to play my game (ie. give me a ride).

Granted, here are ways of getting around without owning a car and I've used most of them, but most are beyond inconvenient. Anyone who has tried to use the intercity bus system here in the US knows that. Car rental is okay, but expensive, especially when you don't have auto insurance and have to purchase that as well. Finding someone who is going the same place as you works pretty well, but can be a hassle to arrange and sometimes feels a little cheap or “dirtbag,” plus you're at the mercy of their schedule.

So lately I've been thinking about whether or not it makes sense for me to buy a car. The initial cost doesn't bother me. I can drop the cash on a reliable vehicle. The things that get me are the costs associated with car ownership: insurance, gas, maintenance, parking that quickly add up to more than the cost of the car itself. And then there are the costs that might not be so obvious, but come along (at least for me) with car ownership: race entry fees, fast food, hotel/campground fees.

I worry as well that if I were to get a car it would be too easy for me to drive where I once biked or walked. I don't care to be car dependent (though it might be said that I already am).

Then there's the identity problem. Who am I if I have a car? I already went through that when I got a phone. It gets tiring quickly when everyone seems to comment, “whoa, you got an X.” Yes, I did. Like everyone else.

Right now circumstances are still in favor of no car for me. I just don't have the desire to put that much money towards something I'll use once or twice a month. So I doubt I'll be getting a car any time soon, but the day may (and probably will) come.

A theory of action in endurance sport.

NB: nothing which follows should be construed as metaphysical truth.

Lately I have started working more on technique in my training. It's something that I have been neglecting and gotten away with for a long time. Similarly, I used to ignore training at all! I would just go about my usual day to day activities and gut it out on race days. Surprisingly it worked okay and I got away with it for a long time. I ran my first marathon with zero training. I managed 3^rd place in my first 24 hour mountain bike race with only two mountain bike rides under me...ever.

Attempting to ski Arrowhead though taught me that I can only expect to get so far on natural talent. I had to start training on a regular basis. Just putting in the time has gotten me a long way (literally). I managed to ski and walk Arrowhead and run the Superior 100, but I have pretty much reached the limit without changing something in the way I run/bike/ski.

That something I am now changing is technique. I am starting to study more closely, listen to my body, and try new things. It is easy to say “keep your hips forward” and another to find out what that means. To that end I am reading and trying out some methods from books and taking yoga classes. I would like to learn from a teacher, especially when it comes to skiing, but that doesn't seem to be a possibility at present. The one person nearby whose skill I respect is not willing to teach and all classes are prohibitively far away.

As it is I think I have made some minor breakthroughs in running and skiing, mostly involving posture and lean.

It is tough to back off on the physical training though and focus on technique. It is hard not to go all out and believe that soreness is the only indicator of progress, but I know better. The way I see it there are three aspects to endurance sports, and maybe life in general: Body, Mind, and Spirit. (Now don't freak out, spirit isn't something supernatural in this case. It's just a way of talking about something which we all understand.)

• Body is the physical part. It is muscular strength. It is what is trained by lifting or running (I have no intention of going into the strength vs. conditioning argument here. Suffice to say both are covered by “body”).
• Mind is technique and planning. It is what we think about. It is consciously paying attention to what we are doing and how we are feeling and making changes to it.
• Spirit is willpower and determination. It is not stopping when things get tough. It is our attitude.

Now of course we need all three to do anything, but we all have our strengths and weaknesses. And we can compensate for a lack in one by strength in the others. My forte to begin with was spirit (if I do say so myself). I could keep going even with terrible pain, blisters, etc.. By incorporating some training of the body I managed to improve, a lot, but I am not an incredible physical specimen and likely never will be. I continue to improve here, but gains are likely to be gradual. My weakest third is the mind.

I have rarely paid attention to how I am doing what I am doing. Instead of listening to my body when it tells me it isn't working I fall back on spirit and ignore the pain. Nor do I do a good job of planning either in training or in racing. Not a good long term strategy even if it has gotten me a long way. Now, hopefully, with some mindful training I will be able to improve yet again.

Enemy of the good

Snow was forecast for last weekend and while we did get a dusting it didn't last through the day. Not enough for skiing in any case. The upside is that it did finally get cold. Down to 13f (-10C) or so when I rode in to work this morning.

I did manage to drag myself and my roller-skis out to Ada Hayden park last night. I did about 9 miles (15k) in ferocious wind. I was hoping for a technique workout, but it ended up being an adversity workout. I guess I need those too. The wind was blowing my poles out to the side in the crosswinds and I had to do some flying (dying) herringbone into it. Not even on the uphills, just to get along on the flats. I suppose I could have done some V1 but I didn't feel like doing that for ¼ mile straight into the that wind. Good practice in any case.

It always takes a few days to get back into colder weather. Remembering how to dress, dealing with numb fingers, and seeing how far I can push it. For instance riding the bike out to ski was torture and my hands and legs were hurting, but once I started skiing I was fine, maybe even a little warm.

There was some concern that the mornings snow would make for an icy path, but I didn't need to be worried. The path was mostly clear and the ice, where there was any, was visible. I did slip once, but didn't go down. In fact the path improved as I skied. I think the wind and dry conditions helped to clear it.

Sorry, I don't have any pictures to prove that I did it, but it was dark, that's what I get for sitting around all day wasting daylight.

Lessons in applied procrastination

November was a bit of a bust. I tried to take on too much and ended up doing nothing. Well, not nothing but a lot less than I would or could have.  

Thing number one that I did was continue my daily training. After work I go out for a run or roller-ski or bike. I had a pretty good Monday through Friday routine going. Weekends were still a little weak, but weekdays were solid. Weekends are always a bit of a challenge.  I think I've mentioned that it's hard for me to drag myself out of bed. 

Thing number two was start taking a yoga class. The class took/takes the place of one of my weekday runs, but in spite of a slow start is now quite challenging. I was hoping for a little more in terms of balance exercises, but it's good as it is. I think a lot of the other folks in the class are annoyed about it being so challenging. I don't know what they were expecting.

Thing number three was an attempt at NaNoWriMo. NaNo is a challenge to write a novel in one month. Novel here being defined as a work of fiction of at least 50,000 words. I managed about 8,500 words in a few short bursts at the keyboard. To call it a work of fiction is a little strong as it was just a collection of 8,500 more or less random words. I think I could have managed to punch out the quota, had I spent more time in the chair, but it would have gone immediately into the fire. I would have built a fire for the express purpose of doing so. I will likely try again, but I will have an outline to guide me.

Instead of spending my time concentrating on NaNoWriMo and my daily workouts (I have managed to make it to the weekly yoga classes though I'm not spending much time on it outside of class) I spent a lot of time reading. It's an old habit of mine that stretches back at least to high school and probably further. When there is something I should do, but am not doing I read. I got a lot of reading done during college.

I am slowly climbing back on the wagon with respect to my training and signing up for Tuscobia has reignited my desire. Of course as I write I can look outside and see that what I should really be doing is roller-skiing and rather than drinking coffee and browsing the internet. 

 Books read in November