(Record jump footage begins about 3:20 in)
Friday, August 31, 2012
Happy 21st Mike Powell!
One of the longer standing records in men's track and field turned 21 yesterday. In the 1991 world championships, Mike Powell bettered Bob Beamon's legendary mark of 8.90m with a jump 8.95m (or 29ft 4 1/2in). Powell was jumping against Carl Lewis that day, who in additional to being one of the most unimaginable douchebags of all time, was almost impossibly good at the long jump. Going into those championships, Lewis was riding a 10 year, 65 event winning streak, and on that night he gave the best performance of his life and the best series of all time, laying down 4 absolutely massive jumps. Powell and Lewis were clearly a class above the others, though it appears that Lewis was even another class above until Powell unloaded his world record jump in the 5th of 6 rounds.
I love this video. I've watched it for years for inspiration or just a happy thought. I love the focus, determination, and concentration of Mike Powell before the jump. He's up against a guy who he's 0-15 against, and who is having the best day of his life, but he shrugs it off, believing he's capable of more, that it's still his time and today his day. Then after nailing the monstrous jump, there's the initial emotional outburst and excitement but having to collect himself while waiting for the measurement, the short cut out to see the stunned, nervous look on Carl Lewis' stupid ass face, and finally the roar of the crowd and celebration after the world record is confirmed. It's just perfect. A concise video reminder of exactly what I love about sports and why we keep going out there. Despite what the odds may tell me, work hard, prepare, go out with the right state of mind, and something special just may be in store for me today. I'll probably never have a Mike Powell type moment, and if I do it'll be on a vastly reduced scale, but it's still a hell of a feeling to chase. Well done Mr. Powell. Hope you enjoyed another year on the record books.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Western States 2 month late yog report
More than 2 months since the race, I should probably jot down a few of my thoughts before they disappear forever out the back of my aging mind.
Pre-Race
Great idea to go up Monday and enjoy a week in Tahoe and acclimate to the altitude. Tuesday morning run was death, Wednesday morning run was already feeling a lot better. But really most of the week my mind was anywhere but on the yog. Geronimo's beautiful, extremely bright, energetic, inquisitive daughter had me constantly on my toes, and often thinking about the current stage of my life and fatherhood and what I have in store in a few years. It made me marvel to think about my own daughter, who at 14+ months of age had been making rapid progress by every metric imaginable, but I hadn't quite wrapped my head around how that exponential rate of progress will continue on and on (assuming I do my job). The girls got along great and were pretty darn cute together.
Yog
I never felt good. I never felt terrible. The cold weather of the early miles didn't make for bad yogging, but were generally miserable, and numb fingers really screw you over when your plan is to eat constantly out of a group of 3 quart sized zip lock bags all stuffed within a single gallon sized zip lock bag. I had it in my head that there was a lot of good yogging to be done once I got over the top of the first climb. Not so. Red Star Ridge was pretty tough, and since it was still relatively bunched up, it was kind of awkward to constantly pass and get repassed, be forced to hike when I wanted to yog, hold my bladder because I finally started to find a groove and didn't want to get passed again, bla bla bla. My hamstrings cramped around mile 15. Of all the things I expected to go wrong, this was not anywhere on the list, and had me pretty worried, because they're pretty debilitating. Fortunately they just kind of dissolved with changes in the terrain. When I got to Robinson Flat the dull aches were really starting to set in and the rain was pouring as hard as it had all day. I didn't realize just how out of it I was until the medical guy at the weigh-in station asked me where I was from and I had to think about it for about 5 seconds. What was the question, why was he asking it, and what was the answer? Each segment had to be slowly, individually processed before I was able to blurt out, "uhhh, Carlsbad". Damned pleased with myself, I was deemed fit to continue. I saw the crew for the first time, and got sock, shoe, shirt changes as well as the addition of a trash bag. My fingers were totally frozen and I was a completely helpless bystander in this changes process. It was a ridiculously long stop, and I lost something like 23 spots between Robinson and Miller's Defeat.
The section between Robinson Flat and Last Chance offers skilled and fit yoggers the chance to do some good work. Being neither, I suffered through it. Based on my previous 50 milers, I was expecting to feel good during this stretch and really have to focus on staying slow and saving energy for the canyons. No such restraint was necessary, as the slowness came naturally. It was around this stretch that I first thought about how much farther I had to go, how generally achy and uncomfortable I was, and how poorly I was moving. I imagined somehow making it to the Placer HS track and receiving a silver buckle (I've never cared about this before) and got all choked up. This reminded me of the Suffer Seeker saying he knew he was in trouble at Leona Yog when he saw a sign with some inspirational quote on it and he got all emotional. Looks like it's my turn! I laughed at myself and carried on.
It was a relief to finally get to the canyons. I caught up to Ben right as we were beginning the steep descent towards Swinging Bridge. We had talked about starting the race together and hanging for the early miles, but I had lost him in the commotion before the start with my family and friends wanting picture after motherfucking pre-race cocksucking picture, and he had performed much better than me in the high country. We stayed together for about a mile and I did my only non-pacer socializing of the race, and his comment that "This is a serious downhill course!" made me chuckle thinking about how the fun had just begun. By the time I got to the top of Devil's Thumb I knew I'd be ok. Only 7 miles to see my crew again at Michigan Bluff, then 5 more before picking up Dr E and heading for Cal St, and from there it would be an entirely doable series of aid station to aid station stretches that I was very familiar with. Two things that I held on to the rest of the way were 1) Geronimo and the way he handled the last 40 miles a few years prior. Total confidence, total calm. I tried to convince myself several times that I was emulating his approach and moving as well as he was through similar sections, but upon a later review of the splits it was humbling how far off I was. 2) The American Hero, in a random online chat a few months prior, while discussing lessons learned from previous WS yog attempts, had said something to the effect of ,"I was so worried about what would happen to me out there. I realize now there's nothing to fear. It's just pain."
It's just pain. If you can wrap your head around that, nothing too terrible can possibly be in store for you. The miles went on, pain lessened and worsened periodically, pacers and emotions changed occasionally, but I knew I'd get there and eventually did. Geronimo took video of the home stretch. I don't think watching my yog in that reduced state will ever fail to amuse me. I guess not so bad considering the 10lbs of weight gain during the OTCY. Perhaps 65 S Caps was a tad much.
Afterthoughts
-Hanging around the ultra scene and especially the Suffer Seeker and American Hero, I kind of forgot that there are people out there who can't actually rip off the name of every Western States aid station backwards and forwards after 11 Bud Lights at the California Club. I definitely didn't realize that to co-workers, extended family members, and friends of friends, I would now be "the guy who ran 100 miles". It seemed like such a normal thing to do. I never thought it would be so difficult to convince people that it's not that big of a deal.
-I have no plans to do more 100 mile ultra yogs, nor was it a bucket list item that has now been checked. Under the right conditions I could see doing it again, but I don't feel any great allure to the distance. In fact, the amount of support one demands from the volunteers, crew and pacers during the OTCY is extremely humbling and for me a very uncomfortable spot.
-I was pretty conservative most of the day, and don't regret that at all. Robinson Flat, Foresthill and Green Gate were exceptionally long aid station stops, and I regret not being better prepared to get through those faster. A cranky shuttle bus driver decided to quit and my crew wasn't able to make it to the river in time as a result. Being cold and tired at the river crossing and not having the dry change of clothes I was expecting had me sulking and not giving an honest effort in the hike up to Green Gate. I regret the effort I put in during that section. Maybe 20-30 minutes total cost for those mistakes. I didn't give a shit at the finish line, but wish I had that time back now.
-I really want to see the American Hero get back there and have a satisfying race. Hopefully I can be part of the team the makes that happen.
-I do love Western States. The effort it takes and the logistics that go into managing a point to point 100 mile yog of this magnitude is as amazing to me as the performances at the very front of the pack. And you can tell just how much everyone who is involved with the event truly loves it. It's just an incredible vibe to share in. I'm entirely ok with paying $370 for the experience. I'm sure they needed it. I may or may not race again, but I'd love to become part of this OTCY in some way.
-I didn't know Ben extremely well, but I enjoyed talking to him a lot, and hearing of his death in the Cordillera Blancas only a few weeks after the race was a stiff blow. We had some similar personality traits, especially the analytical minds and passion for training and the outdoors, and I remember thinking to myself how easily I would have gotten sucked up into his lifestyle had I originally decided to come to UCSD for grad school (I choose Philadelphia instead where I mostly focused on being a boozing, bitter sports fan and degenerate gambler). This was certainly not the first time that I've seen someone die far too young, but his passing more than any I can remember accentuated the temporary and fragile nature of my own life, something I know logically but rarely ever truly feel. RIP.
Pre-Race
Great idea to go up Monday and enjoy a week in Tahoe and acclimate to the altitude. Tuesday morning run was death, Wednesday morning run was already feeling a lot better. But really most of the week my mind was anywhere but on the yog. Geronimo's beautiful, extremely bright, energetic, inquisitive daughter had me constantly on my toes, and often thinking about the current stage of my life and fatherhood and what I have in store in a few years. It made me marvel to think about my own daughter, who at 14+ months of age had been making rapid progress by every metric imaginable, but I hadn't quite wrapped my head around how that exponential rate of progress will continue on and on (assuming I do my job). The girls got along great and were pretty darn cute together.
I never felt good. I never felt terrible. The cold weather of the early miles didn't make for bad yogging, but were generally miserable, and numb fingers really screw you over when your plan is to eat constantly out of a group of 3 quart sized zip lock bags all stuffed within a single gallon sized zip lock bag. I had it in my head that there was a lot of good yogging to be done once I got over the top of the first climb. Not so. Red Star Ridge was pretty tough, and since it was still relatively bunched up, it was kind of awkward to constantly pass and get repassed, be forced to hike when I wanted to yog, hold my bladder because I finally started to find a groove and didn't want to get passed again, bla bla bla. My hamstrings cramped around mile 15. Of all the things I expected to go wrong, this was not anywhere on the list, and had me pretty worried, because they're pretty debilitating. Fortunately they just kind of dissolved with changes in the terrain. When I got to Robinson Flat the dull aches were really starting to set in and the rain was pouring as hard as it had all day. I didn't realize just how out of it I was until the medical guy at the weigh-in station asked me where I was from and I had to think about it for about 5 seconds. What was the question, why was he asking it, and what was the answer? Each segment had to be slowly, individually processed before I was able to blurt out, "uhhh, Carlsbad". Damned pleased with myself, I was deemed fit to continue. I saw the crew for the first time, and got sock, shoe, shirt changes as well as the addition of a trash bag. My fingers were totally frozen and I was a completely helpless bystander in this changes process. It was a ridiculously long stop, and I lost something like 23 spots between Robinson and Miller's Defeat.
The section between Robinson Flat and Last Chance offers skilled and fit yoggers the chance to do some good work. Being neither, I suffered through it. Based on my previous 50 milers, I was expecting to feel good during this stretch and really have to focus on staying slow and saving energy for the canyons. No such restraint was necessary, as the slowness came naturally. It was around this stretch that I first thought about how much farther I had to go, how generally achy and uncomfortable I was, and how poorly I was moving. I imagined somehow making it to the Placer HS track and receiving a silver buckle (I've never cared about this before) and got all choked up. This reminded me of the Suffer Seeker saying he knew he was in trouble at Leona Yog when he saw a sign with some inspirational quote on it and he got all emotional. Looks like it's my turn! I laughed at myself and carried on.
It was a relief to finally get to the canyons. I caught up to Ben right as we were beginning the steep descent towards Swinging Bridge. We had talked about starting the race together and hanging for the early miles, but I had lost him in the commotion before the start with my family and friends wanting picture after motherfucking pre-race cocksucking picture, and he had performed much better than me in the high country. We stayed together for about a mile and I did my only non-pacer socializing of the race, and his comment that "This is a serious downhill course!" made me chuckle thinking about how the fun had just begun. By the time I got to the top of Devil's Thumb I knew I'd be ok. Only 7 miles to see my crew again at Michigan Bluff, then 5 more before picking up Dr E and heading for Cal St, and from there it would be an entirely doable series of aid station to aid station stretches that I was very familiar with. Two things that I held on to the rest of the way were 1) Geronimo and the way he handled the last 40 miles a few years prior. Total confidence, total calm. I tried to convince myself several times that I was emulating his approach and moving as well as he was through similar sections, but upon a later review of the splits it was humbling how far off I was. 2) The American Hero, in a random online chat a few months prior, while discussing lessons learned from previous WS yog attempts, had said something to the effect of ,"I was so worried about what would happen to me out there. I realize now there's nothing to fear. It's just pain."
It's just pain. If you can wrap your head around that, nothing too terrible can possibly be in store for you. The miles went on, pain lessened and worsened periodically, pacers and emotions changed occasionally, but I knew I'd get there and eventually did. Geronimo took video of the home stretch. I don't think watching my yog in that reduced state will ever fail to amuse me. I guess not so bad considering the 10lbs of weight gain during the OTCY. Perhaps 65 S Caps was a tad much.
Afterthoughts
-Hanging around the ultra scene and especially the Suffer Seeker and American Hero, I kind of forgot that there are people out there who can't actually rip off the name of every Western States aid station backwards and forwards after 11 Bud Lights at the California Club. I definitely didn't realize that to co-workers, extended family members, and friends of friends, I would now be "the guy who ran 100 miles". It seemed like such a normal thing to do. I never thought it would be so difficult to convince people that it's not that big of a deal.
-I have no plans to do more 100 mile ultra yogs, nor was it a bucket list item that has now been checked. Under the right conditions I could see doing it again, but I don't feel any great allure to the distance. In fact, the amount of support one demands from the volunteers, crew and pacers during the OTCY is extremely humbling and for me a very uncomfortable spot.
-I was pretty conservative most of the day, and don't regret that at all. Robinson Flat, Foresthill and Green Gate were exceptionally long aid station stops, and I regret not being better prepared to get through those faster. A cranky shuttle bus driver decided to quit and my crew wasn't able to make it to the river in time as a result. Being cold and tired at the river crossing and not having the dry change of clothes I was expecting had me sulking and not giving an honest effort in the hike up to Green Gate. I regret the effort I put in during that section. Maybe 20-30 minutes total cost for those mistakes. I didn't give a shit at the finish line, but wish I had that time back now.
-I really want to see the American Hero get back there and have a satisfying race. Hopefully I can be part of the team the makes that happen.
-I do love Western States. The effort it takes and the logistics that go into managing a point to point 100 mile yog of this magnitude is as amazing to me as the performances at the very front of the pack. And you can tell just how much everyone who is involved with the event truly loves it. It's just an incredible vibe to share in. I'm entirely ok with paying $370 for the experience. I'm sure they needed it. I may or may not race again, but I'd love to become part of this OTCY in some way.
-I didn't know Ben extremely well, but I enjoyed talking to him a lot, and hearing of his death in the Cordillera Blancas only a few weeks after the race was a stiff blow. We had some similar personality traits, especially the analytical minds and passion for training and the outdoors, and I remember thinking to myself how easily I would have gotten sucked up into his lifestyle had I originally decided to come to UCSD for grad school (I choose Philadelphia instead where I mostly focused on being a boozing, bitter sports fan and degenerate gambler). This was certainly not the first time that I've seen someone die far too young, but his passing more than any I can remember accentuated the temporary and fragile nature of my own life, something I know logically but rarely ever truly feel. RIP.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
The Wisdom of the Chinese
As I was just about done inhaling my lunch plate and fortune cookie from Panda Express, I quickly scanned my "fortune" out of the corner of my idea and was blown away by how perfectly they had me pegged. I even had the nervous tingles run up my spine as I sat there in stunned silence. Then I looked at it again and realized that in my haste I had mistaken the "G" in the last word for a "T". Alas. Wrong again.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Monday, May 14, 2012
PCT50 Yog!
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What better way to celebrate my new windshield sticker than to exemplify it to perfection with my PCT50 yog? That's obviously a rhetorical question, as there is no better way. So that's what I did.
Brief background. I had not planned on participating in this yog, but the Suffer Seeker was so humiliated by his Leona yog failure that he arranged a free bib transfer of his entry with the amazingly accomodating race director John Martinez. Martinez. I still don't know who that guy is, but he's way up there in my book. On to the yog report:
Pre Yog
I successfully emerged from bed around 3:15 and was on track to successfully get my shit together and ass out the door in a timely manner. Everything going splendidly until my attempt to leave, when my parents' dog (we're dogsitting while they're in Costa Rica) escaped out the front door, out the open patio door (fuck me, how could I leave that thing open?!) and took off down the street into the darkness. This dog is like a petulant teenager who thinks they want to run away from home, then realizes a few hours later they have nowhere to go and can't make it on their own. But since she's a dog, Bella never learns her lesson. And she's fast. When she gets away from my parents, they make no effort to go after her. Hopefully she comes back before dark, otherwise she'll be coyote food. Wow, what an amazingly helpless feeling watching her disappear. Do I even make an attempt to pursue her or just prepare the apology spiel to my parents? Well, on this morning, the Yogger pursued. And he captured, and returned triumphant. I correctly guessed which way she'd go (not that hard), then used the laid back, I'm not really chasing you, just a cool guy out for a walk at 4am and hey aren't you a good dog why don't you let me pet you strategy for about 15 minutes until she gave in. That's never worked before. I still can't really believe it. By far my biggest accomplishment of the last 10 years or so. I got in the car still amped on the miracle I'd just experienced, picked up the Suffer Seeker and drove to the yog.
Yog
What can you say about the PCT50 yog? It's on PCT. It's 50 miles long, although there were rumors of it being short. It definitely felt like 50. I didn't feel short changed. And to be sure, there's plenty of yog to be had. There was a fair bit of climbing, but the grades were moderate pretty much the whole way. The stand out characteristic of the course was the tough, rocky terrain in several sections. Given this terrain, and my previous decision that I do well with very little padding in my shoes, I decided it would be a perfect day to strap on my brand spanking new pair of painfully overpriced New Balance Minimus trail shoes. For 20 miles, I smugly lauded myself for the toughness of the bottom of my feet. Look at me, grinding through this rugged terrain with such a thin layer of padding. What a real man I was. You can guess how the next 30 went. Ow. Owwwww. Not. A. Real. Man.
The Suffer Seeker's friend Todd had volunteered to pace me from 27 back home. Mile 27 is on a section of course that just flat sucks. Very rocky with a long slow upward grind and everything is really just starting to hurt. I had not met Todd before, but a quick athlinks stalking verified that he is significantly more skilled at the yog than myself, and the pace I was going for the first few miles had me feeling quite embarrassed. Eventually the downhill nature of the 2nd half of the yog kicked in and I was able to pick it up a little. Slow. Steady. My feet. Really. Hurt. Todd was a great help. Good conversation that helped the miles click along from around 30-40, then mostly comfortable, non-awkward silence and steady grinding as I grunted and groaned and slogged through the last 10. It's the 2nd time I've been paced through the 2nd half of a 50, and while I always feel like I'll be fine on my own, it's humbling how much a good pacer can actually improve the experience. Thanks Todd.
The finish line was great. Where was it exactly? Not sure. I made it to the road, still kind of running and looking for a clock somewhere when some guy yelled at me, "Stop!"
"Ok, so I'm done then?"
"Yeah, you're done."
"Cool, what was my time?"
"Um. Um."
Awesome. Love it.
Post Yog
I finished feeling ok. That was the goal. Get through the distance at a pace that gives me confidence that I can go another 51 and be ready to drink. After finishing the yog, I sat down for a minute, and when I tried to get up and walk to my car for a change of clothes, I was wrecked. Just totally beat to shit. I eventually made it to the car, retrieved the beer, and proceeded to drink it. Post ultra yog beer is one of my new favorite things. Just a great feeling. Eventually Geronomino made his way to the finish, having enjoyed his time on the trail and conserving his energy for his 44 mile birthday run the next day. Marty was there too and it was great to enjoy a few drinks with those guys. Suffer Seeker made it to the finish line back from his volunteering duties a few minutes before I got there, and proceeded to attempt to fluff up my mediocrity. For a few minutes I tried to give him a reasonable perspective on my mediocrity while he continued to fluff. Those exchanges always amuse me. Great day overall.
Lessons Learned
I think I have the effort level pretty well locked in in these events. I'm very pleased with how my stomach has been able to mostly hold together so far. Finishing and being eager to drink alcohol is a good sign. The "nutrition" plan seems to be coming around too, with the following observations made during PCT50 yog:
1. Double chocolate donut from aid station #1 = Phenomonal. Although it did make the remaining pop tarts in my bag harder to eat later.
2. Coconut water = Not tasty, but I really felt a lot better a couple miles later. Must find a way to get this in somewhere at STCC 101.
3. BBQ Baby Back Ribs = Too much of a pussy to try to eat these in the later miles. I'm deeply ashamed of this. I can't believe I carried them for the last 10 miles and failed to work up the courage to give these a try. Disgusted with myself. I will redeem myself for this.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Leona Yog!
It can be fun to embarrass myself via athletic failures. However, it's much more fun when the failure is spontaneous. Sometimes I start the day with what seem like realistic hopes for a satisfying performance, then a few hours later I'm resisting the urge to punch some well meaning spectator who is telling me I'm awesome as I'm limping along and being passed by a 77 year-old polio sufferer. THAT is fun. Not training, giving myself no chance, and following through with the inevitable stink bomb of an OTCY has substantially less comedic value. With that in mind, I signed up for a few ultra OTCYs to force myself to put in the miles that I couldn't muster the motivation to put in on my own and hopefully have some minuscule chance at the fast approaching STCC 101.
A few weekends ago I kick started my STCC 101 crash training with the Oriflamme 50k yog. It was fun. Mostly uneventful. I wasn't very strong, particularly on the long grind of a climb in the latter miles. There was a guy who did the yog, then broke out his homemade beer and offered it to the group. The Yogger accepted. Then, upon seeing the slightly confused look on his face, I realized that everyone else in the immediate vacinity were people he knew, and that he was offering beer to his friends, not strangers. Still, it was too late. He gave me the beer. I chose the Scottish Ale option over the English Brown. It was in a 24oz bottle. It was fucking good. I think the guy's name was Wesley. I like Wesley. Oriflamme yog. Not bad.
Then last Saturday was Leona Divide 50 mile OTCY. I made sure to bring my own beer this time. The Suffer Seeker agreed to partake, and at the last minute Geronimo joined the fold despite not having an official entry. Awesome. 2:30am meetup at the Oceanside park & ride for the 150 mile drive to the start. Geronimo was there waiting, fresh as a daisy, while the Suffer Seeker arrived predictably late, half awake, congested, and generally looking like death. 99.9% of the population would have sent an apology text and stayed in bed, but on this morning, something told the Suffer Seeker to ignore his body, crawl out of the yoga abyss and come for yog. He quickly passed out in the back seat and I got the chance to catch up with Geronimo as I drove. I hadn't seen him in quite some time and I wish I could put into words how much I enjoyed getting his perspectives on ultra yogging, life, marriage, parenthood and education. We made good time, I perfected my pre-race nutrition with a couple of cinnamon pop tarts and a Carls Jr breakfast burger value meal, and we got to the race start with an hour to spare. I spent the rest of the time mostly trying to amuse myself and annoy the Suffer Seeker with talk of the impending yog. I come for yog. Why are all these people are here? Do you think that they know that I am here for yog? I think I need a sticker to put on my car. Then they'd know that I yog. I succeeded in amusing myself. Suffer Seeker mostly ignored me. Then we yogged.
It was a pleasurable yog. The course had a good mix of ups and downs, but mostly very comfortable grades and runnable trails. My goals were to practice eating and drinking a lot and see how my feet felt wearing x-country spikes (without the spikes in them). That stuff went really well. I'm excited about doing more ultra yog in x-country flats. Dragging around heavy trail shoes with my spindly calves really does take its toll. Miles 25 to 30 had a steep down and back along fire trails that sucked pretty hard, but the rest of the day felt really good. Great success!
Geronimo volunteered to be sweeper for the 50k and managed to get in 38 miles on the day. SS fell behind me less than a mile in, had a generally miserable day and DNFed at mile 42. I expected him to be enthused by his experience, after all, he had been given a big giant helping of his precious suffering, but this was not to be. It turns out that my perspective about the joys of suffering and failure are much different than his. I continue to find it interesting to see how much I, an INTP, and he, an INTJ have in common in the way we process information and stimuli, but just how different the end result often ends up being.
Fun day. I look forward to more yog.
A few weekends ago I kick started my STCC 101 crash training with the Oriflamme 50k yog. It was fun. Mostly uneventful. I wasn't very strong, particularly on the long grind of a climb in the latter miles. There was a guy who did the yog, then broke out his homemade beer and offered it to the group. The Yogger accepted. Then, upon seeing the slightly confused look on his face, I realized that everyone else in the immediate vacinity were people he knew, and that he was offering beer to his friends, not strangers. Still, it was too late. He gave me the beer. I chose the Scottish Ale option over the English Brown. It was in a 24oz bottle. It was fucking good. I think the guy's name was Wesley. I like Wesley. Oriflamme yog. Not bad.
Then last Saturday was Leona Divide 50 mile OTCY. I made sure to bring my own beer this time. The Suffer Seeker agreed to partake, and at the last minute Geronimo joined the fold despite not having an official entry. Awesome. 2:30am meetup at the Oceanside park & ride for the 150 mile drive to the start. Geronimo was there waiting, fresh as a daisy, while the Suffer Seeker arrived predictably late, half awake, congested, and generally looking like death. 99.9% of the population would have sent an apology text and stayed in bed, but on this morning, something told the Suffer Seeker to ignore his body, crawl out of the yoga abyss and come for yog. He quickly passed out in the back seat and I got the chance to catch up with Geronimo as I drove. I hadn't seen him in quite some time and I wish I could put into words how much I enjoyed getting his perspectives on ultra yogging, life, marriage, parenthood and education. We made good time, I perfected my pre-race nutrition with a couple of cinnamon pop tarts and a Carls Jr breakfast burger value meal, and we got to the race start with an hour to spare. I spent the rest of the time mostly trying to amuse myself and annoy the Suffer Seeker with talk of the impending yog. I come for yog. Why are all these people are here? Do you think that they know that I am here for yog? I think I need a sticker to put on my car. Then they'd know that I yog. I succeeded in amusing myself. Suffer Seeker mostly ignored me. Then we yogged.
It was a pleasurable yog. The course had a good mix of ups and downs, but mostly very comfortable grades and runnable trails. My goals were to practice eating and drinking a lot and see how my feet felt wearing x-country spikes (without the spikes in them). That stuff went really well. I'm excited about doing more ultra yog in x-country flats. Dragging around heavy trail shoes with my spindly calves really does take its toll. Miles 25 to 30 had a steep down and back along fire trails that sucked pretty hard, but the rest of the day felt really good. Great success!
Geronimo volunteered to be sweeper for the 50k and managed to get in 38 miles on the day. SS fell behind me less than a mile in, had a generally miserable day and DNFed at mile 42. I expected him to be enthused by his experience, after all, he had been given a big giant helping of his precious suffering, but this was not to be. It turns out that my perspective about the joys of suffering and failure are much different than his. I continue to find it interesting to see how much I, an INTP, and he, an INTJ have in common in the way we process information and stimuli, but just how different the end result often ends up being.
Fun day. I look forward to more yog.
Friday, April 6, 2012
3rd overall in running
Last week I was thinking about the typical, excessively long race reports and the common personality traits of endurance athletes that leads to the urge to write them. This week my thoughts drifted to my appreciation of those who love the sport but are of a fundamentally different breed. Shoulder Toucher for instance. For some reason he signed up for his first Ironman race a few years ago. Upon his return, people (who write volumes about their own races and voraciously dissect the experiences of others) wanted to know how it went. "Uh, the swim was ok, I got to mile 40 on the bike, and, uh, it was terrible dude." These days, after an OTCY, I know his recap will consist of entirely of 1) the identification of one of his ever expanding pool of informal rivals who was in the OTCY, 2) the admission of defeat to that rival or 3) "I crushed him!". Sparse. Exciting. Perfect.
Then there's Geronimo. The man lives for ultrayogging. Everyone who knows him is consistently amazed by the race schedule he lines up and then glides through with ease. Well, last weekend he took a 2nd crack at Barkleys and was defeated again. Darn. I was discussing with the Suffer Seeker his likely recap of the experience. Last year he injured his knee on the first loop and had to DNF. All I could pull out of him for a description of the legendarily difficult terrain was "Not so bad." Would he do it again? With a sly grin on his face, "I must." I've had the chance to pace him to the finish of a few 100s, and the thing that stands out is how completely unencumbered he is by the mental and physical challenges of the event. Facing and conquering those challenges is what is so intoxicating to many ultrayoggers (I think), but Geronimo seems oblivious to that. The guy is truly in his sanctuary out there. Could you make the race longer please, because he really only starts to find his groove around mile 92. A couple years ago he had signed up for the Brazil 135, but at the very last minute his visa was rejected and he was SOL. Undeterred, he contacted the race director at Arrowhead, who found a spot for him in that race the very next weekend. So. Training for 135 miles of sloppy muddy hills in the Brazilian summer, but instead showing up at the coldest spot in the nation (having never trained in cold) for 135 miles along snow mobile trails pulling a sled full of gear that he didn't know how to use. A race with a 60-70% DNF rate. There's a frickin' novel waiting to be written about such an experience! Well, we got his race report the following Wednesday, an e-mail titled "3rd overall in running" that contained a link to the results in the body. Yup.
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