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

More skis than you require.

I bought another pair of skis.  That makes six pairs.  I think i just managed to get out skiing six times last year (it was a bad snow year). That's unconscionable, I should donate a few pairs to poor Finns in need of decent skis.

 

(There is nothing to make you realize what a shabby bachelor lifestyle you live than taking photos in your kitchen.)

My collection (from left to right) includes:

• Fischer RCR Skate: purchased for Arrowhead training and possible race use.
• Bonna Waxless: my only waxless skis and a little too short for me; my go-to slush and road skis.  These are my worst skis and unfortunately my most used
• Fischer Country Wax: the skis that finished Arrowhead.  Very nice all conditions on and off track skis.  The ski I recommend to others.
• Fischer Europa 99 Wax: my first skis.  The full metal edge makes them nice for icy slopes. 
• Åsnes Military Surplus: The new skis.  Set up detailed below.
• Fischer RCR Classic: hopefully to be used at Arrowhead this year.

I really couldn't resist the new Åsnes skis.  They were $15 plus shipping, are very fat, came with skins (an additional $10) and white.

White is super cool.  Why?  When I was in Finland (btw, all of my conversations for the past year have included this phrase) we used white army skis and there is nothing cooler than watching someone ski on white skis.  It looks like they're just gliding along the ground; like magic.  Suomalainen taika.

(find the skis)

I intend to set up these skis to be as close to those skis I used in Finland as possible.  The size is approximately right.  The Åsnes are a little lighter and have a metal edge which the Finnish skis didn't have.  The main problem is finding appropriate boots and bindings.  The boots were like rubber galoshes and used a kind of cable binding.  

I thought I had a solution in the military surplus bindings below, and literally a pair of galoshes, but it turns out the bindings are a rather poor American copy of a primitive Italian AT binding.  Apparently they are known for breaking cables.  I'm not surprised as every step crushes the cable under the boot.  Who thought that was a good idea?  At least they were cheap ($10).

Now I'm thinking I'll have to abandon that idea and use some old three pin bindings and find some decent boots.  That kind of ruins the cheap theme though.  It looks like I've got some time before it snows though.  Maybe some good cable bindings will show up. 

I'm obsessed.

Arrowhead Gear Not-List

I got a lot of questions after Superior about my experiences and equipment for Arrowhead.  I was encouraged to write up a list of all my gear and I started working on one.  It was going to have photos and lots of detail and all that, but then I realized it wouldn't do anyone any good.

Seriously, I'm not trying to be a jerk.  There is a great gear list out there already.  It's the same list I use as I prepare for the race each year.  Besides, it really doesn't matter what brand of stove or pants I'm using.  There are plenty of good choices out there and just copying someone else would be foolish and dangerous at this kind of race.  What is important is that you try out the gear you are going to use.

I know how it sounds, and I've been on the receiving end of it, but it's the truth.  Go running, biking, skiing, and camping in the cold and see what works and what doesn't.  There's no other way.  There is time between now and the end of January to do that.

In the lead up to the 2006 Arrowhead I learned a lot.  I did a windy ride in 14f that told me my gloves weren't enough.  I slept on my back porch in the snow (and scared my roommates) on the coldest nights of December.  I rode 20 miles out of town and found out that I hated sardines.

There are a few tips that I can safely give you though.  They aren't super specific because what works for me might not for you, but here they are:

• Your sleeping system is warm.  If you have the required gear you have a sleeping bag, pad, and bivy that will keep you alive and warm at -40f or lower.  When you pile a -20f bag, an insulated pad and a bivy together along with perhaps some down pants and jacket you might even be sweating!  Don't be afraid to use it because it's "too cold."
• If something is wrong do something about it.  Feet cold?  Put on warmer footwear or socks.  Hungry?  Eat.  Hydration pack hose frozen?  Thaw it in your jacket.  Panicking or toughing it out won't help.  
• You will sweat.  You are working hard.  Don't freak out.  Deal with it.  Unzip your jacket a bit.  Slow your pace.  Wear a man diaper if it makes you happy.  Try out some different layering systems in training, before it matters.  
• Hands and feet are tough to keep warm.  Try layering gloves and mittens.  Step away from the cycling shoes and try pac boots.  Try socks on the outside of your shoes for extra insulation.  
•  Again, don't freak out.  Do something about it.  That something might be getting in your sleeping bag and drinking something warm before you end up with frostbite and hypothermia. 

I am happy to answer specific questions on the blog, forum or Facebook, but I can't answer everything in one post or even a book.  Much of this is something you just have to find out for yourself. 

Backyard training at 10f back in '10.  If you look closely you can see some of my "secrets."

Superior 100 Run (the abridged version)

I had a huge, detailed, blow-by-blow account of the Superior 100 almost done when I realized, no one wants to read this...I don't want to read this.  Here's a condensed version of the same:

I ran/walked 100 miles and it wasn't easy.  Hard lessons were learned last year and so I started out slow and made sure to eat more, much more.  The first 42 miles went pretty well.  Knowing the course helped and I made it to County Road 6 much earlier than last year.

Once it got dark I started walking a lot more than running which was a mistake.  The course from CR 6 to Finland and on to Crosby-Manitou was the most runnable part of the trail.

At the halfway point in Finland I slept for 30-45 minutes and spent too much time drying my socks by the fire.  It would have been nice to have had a drop bag with dry socks and shirt.  Thanks to Dallas Sigurdur I left Finland with a dry, if not completely clean shirt. 

I chatted with Jason Buffington at the Sonju Lake Road aid station in the middle of the night.  It's always good to see folks you know.

By Crosby-Manitou aid station (mile 63) I was falling asleep walking and really needed a nap, but there was just no way I could stop and still finish.  The sky was beginning to lighten.

From Crosby-Manitou to Sugarloaf was the most trying section of the trail.  I almost dropped out.  I had to take a nap on a rock (only about 5 minutes, but it really helped).  It started raining and kept raining.  Combined with the cool temperatures I was starting to get to a really bad place.  Luckily my Arrowhead instincts cut in and I stopped, made a raincoat out of a garbage bag I was carrying (thanks to Lynn Saari), and was able to continue if slowly and unfashionably.

By the time I arrived at Sugarloaf I was a wreck.  My feet were wet and blistered, I was cold, and in a foul mood.  Kurt Neuberger and his wife (whose name I should really know) nursed me back to health with some warm soup (squash, very good), ibuprofen, and clean dry socks!

From there I started to feel better and move faster.  I started to pace off of some of the 50 mile runners and that along with some conversation made the miles pass.  Climbing Carleton Peak I was stung by a wasp which was painful but took my mind off of the rest of my pain and the ~20 miles I had left.

At the Sawbill aid station I found that I was dangerously close to the cutoff.  I would really have to book it if I wanted to finish.  I ran like an old man, but I ran pretty much the whole way to Oberg.  I was stung by a wasp once again and by happenstance met another runner from Ames.  I arrived at Oberg with 15 minutes to spare.  I would have 3 hours to run 7 miles.  That was a cushion I could deal with.

I mostly fast hiked the last stretch with a small group.  Two 50 mile runners and two 100 mile runners.  The "Stairway to Heaven" section of Moose Mountain was a welcome sight (I am good at uphills) and soon enough the lights of Lutsen were in sight.  My right ankle was screaming at me on every downhill.  More than once I had to stop for a second and collect myself.

Breaking out of the rocky, rooty trails and on to a paved road felt strange on my feet.  Like standing on solid ground after a day on a boat.  I crossed the finish line in 37:36:42.  Less than 24 minutes before the cutoff, but I finished. 

Roberto Marron, the author, and Dallas Sigurdur early in the race.

photo: Londell Pease

No Apologies for a Great Summer

Recently I came to an Al-Anon style realization: there are at least two things I don't have to apologize for: being happy/excited, and being myself.  So I'm not going to apologize for having done some great races over the summer and I'm not going to apologize for being excited about the big Superior 100 mile race I'm running in a week and a half.  Not interested?  Don't read on!

 

Yoda & Buddha are friends.

I was afraid of showing off, bragging, or making a big deal out of some of the stuff I have done, but I'm over that for the moment so:

• In May I ran the Spring Superior 50k.  Although my finishing time/place weren't all that great I had a wonderful time.  I met some new friends, enjoyed the big lake and the beautiful Sawtooth Mountains, and had a great night out in Grand Marais.  I haven't enjoyed myself so much for years!
• In July I raced in the inaugural Iowa Games Gravel Road Race.  To my surprise I won!  It was a tough fought race on an extremely hot and dusty day, but I gave it everything I had and eventually came out on top.  
• I did a couple of XC mountain bike races (one at Banner and one at Seven Oaks).  I didn't win or even come close (2nd to last at Banner), but I did learn a lot.  Going fast is hard and the limiting factor for me is cornering.  That spurred me on to practice and ask for tips and I feel that I've come a long way since then.  I can't say that I'm great shakes at it, but I think that the next time I do a 24 hour race I'll get a couple extra laps in because of it.  
• I did my first triathlon two weeks ago.  Well, sort of.  I just did the bike portion as part of a relay team.  It was my first extended ride on an aerobar equipped bike and that was an experience.  I get why triathletes spill food and drink on their bikes and have crap bike handling.  Those bikes are not meant for turning!  The unfamiliar position caused me to have some sore muscles toward the end of my 56 mile TT, but our team managed a 3rd place finish in our division (Male Team).  Everyone was much friendlier than I had expected at a big time triathlon.  I might have to do an individual one next year.  
  

The TT bike.

• Last weekend's race was a team event too.  I did a leapfrog duathlon (bike and run) in Dallas Center with one of the drivers who delivers to work.  He's a pretty good runner so I had my work cut out for me trying to not to let him down.  We managed 2nd overall and 1st in our age group (we were beat by some old guys).  It was a great little low key event for a very reasonable price.  

 So yeah, I've had a pretty good summer and I don't mind telling you.  Sure I "won" some races as an age grouper, but that's not what it's about.  It's about getting out there, doing my best, and enjoying myself doing it.

I am making a big deal out of the Superior 100.  Last year I thought I had it in the bag and didn't give the race the respect it deserves.  This year I have been training for it officially since June 1st and unofficially since I finished Trans Iowa.  If I have worked on something nearly every day for three months then I would say it's a big deal.  I'm going to give this race my very best and I'm not dropping out until the sweeps catch me.

Some new hardware (L to R: Iowa Games, Leapfrog, Pigman)

Why I run (and bike and ski and other bad philosophy)

(Apologies to anyone who is a pro or semi-pro philosopher or psychologist, this is sure to be cringe-worthy.)

I suppose every endurance runner/biker/skier/whateverer approaches the question of why they do it at some point.  Keeping in mind that the act preceded my reasons for it and that those reasons are sometimes contradictory and always elusive here are mine:

When I get down to it the primary reason for my participation in endurance events (I shy away from calling it sports and absolutely refuse to call myself an athlete even if those might apply here) is that old adage that you can only feel one pain at a time.  Have a headache?  Hit your thumb with a hammer, that'll cure it.  Same concept here.  If I'm miserable, feeling sorry for myself, or whatever I can run until the physical exhaustion becomes greater than the mental anguish. 

Once I've cut through the cynicism and self-hate that I'm prone to I find that I can see (more) clearly what is going on.  Sometimes a solution presents itself.  Sometimes I just see that what I'm worried about is not that big a deal after all.  It works a heck of a lot better than banging my head against a wall and I should know. 

I've been accused of being an "endorphine junkie" and maybe that's the case.  Maybe it is just escapism the same as drinking or something like that, maybe I have a problem, but it's a healthier problem than a lot of others that I could have.   Somehow people are more inclined to be forgiving when you tell them you ran 30 miles than if you tell them you're hungover. 

If it were just about getting a "runner's high" (which I don't feel I get anyway) then why race?  Why go any further than I have to?  Because I need that bigger goal to reach for.  I need an arbitrary outside motivation to gear my thoughts and training toward. 

One of the great things about endurance events is that it doesn't matter.  It is the thing without value that I give value to.  Nobody cares if I finish except me.  Nobody cares if I don't finish except me.  I do this for myself and no one else.  How many things are there that you can say that about?  How many things are there where you don't have to feel like someone else is depending on you?  My success in an event doesn't depend on anyone else and no one else is depending on me.  Maybe that's selfish.  I don't know, but I'm certainly of no use to anyone, least of all myself, if I'm miserable. 

The simplicity of being on my own is appealing.  During a race there is nothing that matters outside the race.  There are simple, discrete steps that have to be accomplished: eat, drink, keep moving.  Maybe there is a flat tire to deal with, a broken ski pole, but even that is straightforward.  Fix it, or not, and move on.  No avoiding the problem or passing it off on someone else.   And in the end you know whether you have succeeded or not. 

I am of the opinion that happiness is up to me.  No one else can make me happy, no outside event can either.  Maybe a stronger person wouldn't need to run or race or whatever, but I'm not that strong.  Maybe I will be someday.  Until then I'll be a selfish junkie.  

Why do you do this stupid stuff?

In other news: someone reminded me the other week that I have a folding boat so I decided to get out there and use it. 

It feels like this.

Photo by Ari

TI Training, Gear, &c.

Here are my thoughts with respect to what did or did not (mostly did) work for me at my successful Trans Iowa ride.  

Training: 

I did a lot of shorter rides this year.  Many weekend rides of just 100k and lots of evening rides of around 15 miles.  I probably did more miles in preparation this year, but fewer long rides.  I did a lot of running as well because sometimes it's just easier to get out the door and do that.  I think that running helps endurance and hill climbing, both of which I needed.  The warm winter didn't hurt my biking at all (it did hurt my skiing) and biking the Arrowhead reacquainted me with endurance biking.  A couple of weeks before the race I did a 100k ride that was at least half in a pretty severe thunderstorm.  I think that more than anything that reminder that I could keep going was good for me.

Equipment:  

I have been called a cheap-grouch and I think I have to agree.  My Surly Cross Check is not expensive or flashy, but it fits me well and I am comfortable on it for hours on end.  Having ridden this bike and set-up (sort of) for 11 years certainly helps.  Some highlights:

• I did build some new race wheels.  I am pretty easy on wheels compared to a lot of folks so I laced some Open Pros to DT 350 hubs with 28 14-15 butted spokes laced 3x.  That made for some pretty light (where it matters), but smooth riding wheels.  Pretty fancy for me, but nothing compared to what others are using.  
• For tires I stuck with Michelin Jets which are nice and light with a fast rolling tread (no need for flat protection on Iowa gravel) aired to 70 psi.  
• My WTB Rocket V saddle is nearing the end of it's life, but did fine.  
• Planet Bike 2 Watt Blaze on the handlebars and a 1/2 Watt blaze on the helmet (which I removed as soon as it was light out) lit the way for me and I didn't feel like I needed a torch like some folks had even on steep downhills, but that may be overconfidence born of too much riding in the Des Moines river valley. 
• I taped my bars with Planet Bike bar tape as always, but broke with tradition in two ways.  First off I put a little foam on the back of the handlebar from the brake lever around to the tops.  I rest my hands here 90% of the time so I wanted the surface to be a little broader to even out the load.  It worked great and I had no numbness in my hands!  The other break with tradition was the use of white tape.  It's pure decadence.  White looks great, but gets dirty easily.  Just something special for the big race.
• As always I taped over the speed on my bike computer.  Speed is just a distraction from how I'm riding.  It's all about how I feel not how fast I'm going and I feel better when I don't know I'm slogging along at 8mph.  
• My map holder is just a Ziploc bag reinforced with cardboard and duct tape.  It took me about 5 minutes to make and worked great.
• As far as the "YES" goes it could mean anything.  It's whatever I need it to be, "Yes, keep going," "Yes, you should drink," "Yes, you're going to make it."  

Mental Training/Attitude: 

I maintain that the best way to train mentally is to train physically.  Riding in that thunderstorm was big.  I also have a bit of experience to look back on for inspiration.  Thinking back to skiing the Tuscobia Ultra with huge blood blisters on my feet, walking the last few miles of the Arrowhead when my hips and knees were giving out made me face how much Trans Iowa was going to hurt.  Knowing how much it can hurt makes it easier to bear and even makes it easy when things aren't that bad (which they weren't this year). 

Food: 

I ate too much "performance" food this year.  I could have done with fewer Cliff bars and gels of all sorts.  I really wanted a Subway Sandwich or a plate of pasta at 1am, but I wasn't getting that.  String cheese did a lot of good and I could have used more towards the end.  Really though, I have learned that I can get by on just about any food so long as I eat. 

Clothing: 

I know that I am a more comfortable a little cold than a little warm so I kept clothing versatile and to a minimum.  At times I was down to just my Cannondale shorts and Skunk River jersey.  More often though I had on leg and arm warmers and for the wet or windy times I had my well worn Bellwether jacket.  Gloves were an old pair of Salsa full finger gloves with minimal padding.  I kept what clothing I wasn't wearing in my frame bag and food in my jersey pockets.  My Camelbak was just for water, no gear.

Shoes:
I used Pearl Izumi X-Alp Seek cycling shoes.  They're a little odd, meant for hiking off the bike as well as riding, but they have served me well.  The wider last and use of laces rather than buckles make it the most comfortable shoe I've worn (there is still room for improvement however).  I suppose they're a little heavier and not as stiff as some, but for hike-a-bike (of which there was a little) they are more than worth it. 

Why didn't I make it in previous years? Weather, sometimes it's just not up to you.  Poor planning, one year I forgot sunscreen, a costly mistake.  Navigation errors which resulted from following the herd, and on the other side not being willing to work with a group when it would have been smarter. I think I always had it in me, I just had to get everything together. 

Riding Trans Iowa

I'm recovering quite well from Trans Iowa.  My knees still bother me a bit, but I can once again ride without grimacing in pain, even sitting down.

This years Trans Iowa was more of a mind-over-matter kind of event for me.  I knew I was in better shape and had done more training than for any previous ride, but somehow I didn't quite feel prepared.  I suppose you never can for an event like this.  There is just too much up to chance.  Still, I knew that my body was up for it and if I could just get my head in it I'd finish if it was humanly possible.

There isn't much to say about the race that hasn't already been said, but I'll try to give my take on it.

Hearing the wind, rain, and thunder through the night sure didn't help me sleep.  A part of me wanted to call it quits even before it started, but I knew I couldn't do that.  I had set my alarm for 3:30 AM, but woke up about twenty minutes earlier.  I had everything ready so all I had to do was dress, eat a sandwich and ride to the start.  It's much easier when everything is laid out the night before.

The rain had quit by start time, but the roads were still wet and there was a stiff wind out of the west.  Once we got off the pavement I made sure to settle in with a group so I wouldn't be fighting the headwinds alone.  I'm not much of a joiner when it comes to riding (or anything else), but I felt it was necessary to avoid burning out.

Once we headed south about 30 miles in the groups broke up a little and I rode alone quite a bit.  For a while I rode with Jeremy Kershaw and Jay Barre, but by Checkpoint Alpha (Montezuma, mile 53) I was alone again.  After CP:A I caught up with Charlie Farrow and rode with him and the guys from Lincoln for a while.  It worried me that I was riding with Farrow as I know him to be a stronger rider than I am.  He mentioned that the folks at the front were pushing it too hard and he expected some attrition.  I had heard that one before, but it was a reminder to keep riding within my limits and not push too hard (actually it turned out to be true).

At some point Farrow dropped me and was riding alone again.  I really do my best when alone on these ride/races.  My mind stays more focused, I make better time, and I have a better attitude.  So for the next ~200 miles I rode mostly alone.  I went through the towns of Hedrick and Agency, then crossed the Des Moines river near Eldon (we really should have ridden by the American Gothic house).  At mile ~170 I reached Checkpoint Bravo (the middle of nowhere), sat for a minute, ate an energy bar, and was on my way into the night.

Around mile 200 I arrived at Checkpoint Charlie (not a German to be seen) in Attica where I was told that I had just missed a group of riders headed by Dennis Grelk (last year's winner).  Now I had a carrot.  I felt like I had only ridden 100 miles so I started pushing a bit more, hoping to see their taillights ahead.

There was a beautiful long hill outside Pella that I'd like to see in the daylight sometime.  I was able to spin up it in my lowest gear without working too hard and it seemed to go on forever.

I finally caught up with the group at the convenience store in Pella (mile 230?), but they were ready to go and I needed to fuel up.  It wasn't until ten or so miles later in Galesburg that I caught them for good.

As soon as I started riding with the group I found myself falling asleep.  I just couldn't keep my eyes open. It was as though, now that I didn't have any goals but finish, my mind just began to shut down.  I'd feel okay for a few minutes, then terrible for a few.  I drank a 5 hour energy and felt great for about 20 minutes, then I was nodding off again.  I'd find myself unconsciously charging up the hills, following Dennis and then falling off the back of the group. 

Eventually Dennis broke away and then Mark Johnson (I think) followed him.  At this point I felt it was safer to stay with the group.  There were bound to be headwinds down the road. 

By the time dawn came it was down to four of us in the group: Mike Johnson, Corey Godfrey, Charles Parsons, and myself.  The gravel was getting rougher and we were still heading away from Grinnell.  I knew that couldn't last.  It was looking like we were going to spend the last 35 miles of Trans Iowa battling the winds. 

I finally knew for sure where we were when we arrived in Melbourne. It was going to be all fresh gravel, hills, and headwinds back to the finish.  I was hoping for a convenience store, but I was pretty sure Melbourne wasn't the place to find one.  We rolled through town, but didn't see anything and kept on going.  As we headed out of town I called out that I was stopping for a minute and everyone else should continue (I won't give the details of that stop, but was a desperate stop and involved venturing into nettles and poison ivy).  I was left to battle the course alone. 

I made a plan to ride 10 miles, rest, ride 10 miles, rest, and ride the final 10 miles.  I made it seven and had to stop, then another five, but I told myself that every turn of the pedals was getting me that much closer to the finish.  Conditions were horrible, I was happy that there were hills so that I could rest in the wind shadow on the way up.  It turns out I'm a better at climbing than fighting into the wind. 

As I took another break, sitting in the lee of a hill, eating a Cliff bar, I saw three riders approaching from behind.  I was disappointed that I had been caught, but decided to wait and ride with them.  When they got close enough I saw that they were the same group I had been riding with all night.  Just after Melbourne they had spotted a convenience store and stopped there (it turns out my trip to the bushes was unnecessary).  We teamed back up and agreed to ride in together. 

Things were going as well as they can 320+ miles into a race when we came to a final, unexpected B road.  It looked like it might be ridable and Charles charged ahead.  Corey wasn't so lucky and his rear derailleur clogged and tore out.  Mike and I stopped, but there was really nothing we could do.  Corey would either be able to fix it and ride in or he would walk.  We left him and walked the rest of the B road to be safe. 

Charles was out of sight and Mike was riding stronger than I was so our group was shot.  I rode in alone, as I had ridden the better part of the race, and was ready to be done. 

Trans Iowa Completed

It only took me four tries, but I finally made it. 328 miles hurts just as much as you think it would. Actually up until about 250 I was feeling pretty good. Then I got sleepy. I tried a 5 Hour Energy and felt great for about 20 minutes if that tells you anything. The last 50 miles were absolute torture; hills, headwinds, and loose gravel. No major equipment or physical problems. I don't know what I could have done better. I'll have more to write later this week.

 Thanks to (in no particular order) Guitar Ted, Jared Morford, Steve Fuller, Jeff Frings, Mike Johnson, Dennis Grelk, Mark Johnson, Corey Godfrey, Charlie Farrow, and everyone else who helped me buck the headwinds.

What I liked about Finland.

This post got a little bit out of control. Very little editing has been done. Also, to preempt the inevitable "America: Love it or leave it" comments, I would like to say that I don't know anyone who doesn't think the US could be better in some way.

Possibly the best part of my trip to Finland, and the primary reason I went, was the experiencing a culture and way of life different (at least a little) from what I'm used to. I was lucky to have a local guide (Jani) who was happy to show me around. Without him I expect I wouldn't have seen near as much as I did. That, in spite of sleeping a lot and reading comic books for (too) much of the time.

So, what was different?

Public transit:
The US, especially the Midwest is a car dependent culture. I don't own a car and I get by, but really, if I want to go anywhere outside of Ames I need a car. My first experiences in Finland were taking a bus from the airport to Helsinki and then a train from Helsinki to Lahti. This was a far cry from getting from Ames to the Des Moines airport. I had to beg friends to drive me to the airport here. Crazy. Needless to say I am in favor of more public transit options in the US.



Apartment Living:
Lahti is a city of about 100k, similar in size to Cedar Rapids where I grew up, yet in size it feels about the same as Ames, a city of 50k (according to Wikipedia however there is actually little area difference, so...). A lot of this has to do with how people live. Here virtually everyone lives in a single family home, at least anyone who can afford it. In Lahti (and I assume elsewhere in Finland) most folks seem to live in high rise apartment buildings. Walking around town I don't think I saw any single family homes.



The apartments are small by US standards, but they are hardly uncomfortable. Efficient design helps. Bathrooms are much smaller and there is no tub (like you ever use it). The whole floor is tile and drains to the shower, simple and obvious. Single beds are the norm. I don't know if you can buy a single bed in the US. When I bought the smallest bed I could (at IKEA no less) last summer it was a twin.

I doubt that Americans will give up their sprawling lawns, three car garages, and king size beds, but I wouldn't be opposed to it.

Walking:
I did a lot of walking in Finland. Heck, I do a lot of walking here, but I'm weird like that. While walking I saw lots of other folks walking as well. Actually it was a little strange for me walking on crowded sidewalks. I'm used to having them to myself. A more compact city, less car traffic, and walk signals that actually mean something all make it easy to get where you're going on foot.



As a side note here, the Finns don't seem to use any salt on their sidewalks or roads. They do use a lot of gravel though. While the gravel does make the footing better it is not as easy as bare concrete. I suppose that because of our litigious habits here in the US salt is a necessity (with some businesses, notably banks, putting out so much salt that it seems there is more salt than snow), but people in Finland, even old ladies with walkers, seemed to navigate the sidewalks quite well. No one, with the notable exception of myself, ever slipped that I saw. I suppose an abundance of freshwater lakes make the idea of throwing salt in them more repugnant than it is here. We don't seem to much care where our drains go.

Public Space/Parks:
Even in town much of Finland is public property or at least publicly usable. When walking around Lahti we explored parks and green spaces of greater extent than I have seen in the US (Duluth might be the exception). A short walk from where I was staying there were ski trails with largely unrestricted access. Trails that in the US would have been either had limited hours and/or a day use fee. Not only that, but even on a day when world class skiers were out practicing the trails were open. In the US those trails would have been closed.

Relatedly, when we spectated the Lahti Ski Games we were allowed to get right up next to the ski trails. Here we would have been herded behind tape and into approved areas.

Again related, much of the Kaukopartio crossed private land, this made possible by Every Man's Rights. No getting chased off of private property by an angry man with a shotgun in Finland. I would dearly love to have something similar here, but even where laws allow stepping on private property here it is strongly discouraged.

Food:
For the most part the food was what I'm used to. Potatoes and carrots, ground beef, macaroni, but there were a few different things. Sweet pickles, while not too unusual here are a regular side dish. Muesli isn't just something you buy at the health food store. Bread is far heavier and darker than here. I now understand when a Russian friend from college complained about the lack of good bread in the US. There is nothing like it here, really, not even at specialty stores. No peanut butter. And no, there were no Soviet style bread lines.

And finally salmiakki. Salmiakki is weird and great. If you haven't tried it in candy or liquor form then you should and you will probably hate it. To say that it tastes like salty liquorice is an understatement. It is completely unique. It's too bad it's not available here. I'm hooked.

Sauna:
You may think you have been to a sauna, but you probably haven't. Hotel saunas with signs warning you not to throw water on the stones (löyly) don't count. After all, it's not the heat, it's the humidity. Second, you must be naked. Again, hotel saunas discourage this, but it's necessary. But with steam and nudity and a place to step outside into the cold or take an icy shower there's nothing like it.



Language:
Being naked around strangers is apparently no big deal for me (see above), but not being able to speak the language was deeply embarrassing. Fortunately almost everyone spoke English quite well which seems a little unfair. If you come to the US you'd best be able to speak English. Go to another country with a unique and difficult language, don't bother learning the language, just speak your own. In any case Finnish is apparently a very difficult language, but one I'd love to learn in spite of the fact that only .1% of the worlds population speaks it. I did manage to learn a few words, but mostly place names like saari (island), mäki (hill), järvi (lake), and katu (street) (in case you're wondering, "maki" means lemur). When I go back I intend to have at least learned my numbers.



Once again the good photos are by Jani, the bad ones by me.