Did the trails just get rockier?

Since the second Monday in June, when I crashed and broke my wrist, I have not been on a bike.  Part of this was doctor's orders, but the last month or so has mostly been due to fear and fitness (lack of) for riding.

However, since cycling is normally a big part of my cross-training regimen, and this week was a down week, I took my mountain bike out for the first time in months.  It was both great to be back out, but also terrifying, as it seemed not just my cycling fitness, but any semblance of handling skills had disappeared over the summer, and the trails; trails I run on (and rode on this spring) daily, seemed suddenly to have sprouted more rocks, bigger rocks, and tighter turns. 

I didn't fall, but I did have to unclip several times on what is really a pretty easy loop, which didn't exactly help with the whole fear thing.  Maybe I should have gone out on the road before I tried mountain biking again.  Ah well.  Based on that performance, reintroducing regular riding will have to wait until after the Bootlegger, I think.

Below enjoy a photo of my beloved Orbea Alma 29er.  No factory build here, I put this together from the ground up this past spring.

Bear Chase media

First, my Bear Chase result got some coverage from RunColo.com.  This is probably the first and last time my name will ever be featured next to a world champion's (J. Simpson) in any sort of discussion of athletic performance:

http://www.runcolo.com/content/charles-hillig-michael-dominguez-jenny-simpson-impress-other-colorado-race-results-9-24-9-25-869/

 Second, pictures from the Bear Chase came in, taken by Running Guru.  

Pretty obviously the start at 6:50am. That meant a 4:00am wake-up.

First 10k.  The guy in the jacket and no shirt hung for 8k, clipping my heels, then disappeared.

The most sedate of the 3 stream crossings.

Another stream crossing on the first lap, with Paul Terranova sitting in second behind me.

At the top of the major climb.  The park was spectacularly beautiful.

Apparently the camera guy knew I was finishing.

Bear Chase Trail Race 50k

I have just returned home from a much needed massage following the Bear Chase Trail Race 50k in Lakewood, CO.  It was a pretty spectacular event; well run and on a great course.  This event was meant to be a psuedo-culmination of my training cycle, with the upcoming Bootlegger 50k in Vegas a potential bonus on the end of a long season, so I was hoping for this to go well, and it did indeed.

The race was a fairly large one, and included a 50 mile, 1/2 Marathon and 10k event as well as the 50k I ran.  All 4 of these races used the same course loops, one a 10k loop around Bear Creek Lake, and one a 20k loop that circled the whole park, both of which shared the same start/finish/crewed aid-station area.  For the 50k, we did one lap of the 10k loop, then 2 of the 20k loop, with 1,950' of climbing, though I'm not sure if that was per lap or overall.

My preparations and pre-race for this went well, and going in, I was, based on the times from last year, aiming for a 3:50.  With this in mind, I left Alice and Anthony at the start line with instructions for what water bottles and nutrition to hand me each lap, and estimated times through of :46.00 for the first 10k, and 2:18 for the 30k.  The race though, went a little differently than my plan.

I'm not about to narrate everything that happened during the race, but I ended up running far more aggressively than I anticipated I would, coming through the first 10k in :40.42, then the 30k mark in 2:06, and feeling pretty good.  At this point, it started getting pretty hot out there (there was a high of 88 on the day according to later news reports), and my shoes hit the end of their supportive lives, so I slowed a bit on that last lap, but ended up coming through the finish line in first in 3:37.40.  Great, right? Not apparently.

To be clear, I'm in no way griping, the following circumstances were just pretty comedic:  I cross the finish line and proceed to stop, and stumble around a bit, expecting someone to say something, seeing as how I just won and all, but nobody does.  No cheering from the crowd, no acknowledgment by the announcer, no sign of Alice or Anthony. It is in fact oddly quiet.  At this point, a race volunteer comes over to me and sweetly instructs me that I'm stumbling in the wrong direction.  The aid-station is over there, to the right.  I'm done, I inform her.  Realization strikes her face, she gives a cheer, and eventually the announcer catches on too.  This kind volunteer gets me a chair, and some other excellent volunteers generously fetch gatorade and water.  However, my wife and buddy are still MIA.

It is a few minutes before the next finisher comes through.  I greet him, say congrats, but still no Alice or Anthony.  A few minutes more, and I begin to get really curious. I want to change my shoes, and get to some nutrition in my bag, but don't really want to walk myself to the car just yet.  I look around, and eventually see Alice sitting a ways away among some other spectators.  Still seated, I start waving to her, which manages to catch her attention, and draws them rushing over.  The resulting conversation went something like this:

Alice:  "Oh my gosh, did you just finish?!?"
Me:  "I've been done for 15 minutes."
Alice: "What!?!"

As it turns out, Alice and Anthony weren't expecting me for quite some time, as per my instructions and goal time, and the fact they didn't hear the announcer or any cheering, because no one thought I had finished.  This is all made doubly hilarious because last year at Imogene, Alice wandered off from the finish line in Telluride to get my bag from the car, only to miss me finishing.  Both were good races, so maybe I should encourage her to get distracted at the end of races more often.

In any event, the Bear Chase was a great event, and the course was really quite beautiful.  Definitely worth attending/racing.  I will post pictures and media as they become available.

Imogene 2011

Imogene is over.

This race had been a primary objective of mine for this year, so I was understandably a bit nervous before hand.  Lots of variables come into play during an event like this, where one runs from Ouray, CO at 7,000' the 10 miles it takes to get up and over the 13,100' Imogene Pass, and then 7+ more miles down into Telluride at 8,000'.  It's an awesome race, despite the story I am about to relate.

Telluride celebrating the race, with the pass in the background.

Unfortunately, this year I had a less than awesome experience with the race.  After a fine drive from Boulder to Ouray, a normal pre-race day, and sedate evening, I attempted to go to bed around 9 for my planned 4:30 wake-up and 7:30 race start. This didn't work out as planned. Dunno if it was worries about work, nervous stress, or not a long enough run that day, but lying in bed staring at the ceiling worrying about how being awake is going to ruin your race is not a good way to either a) prepare to race, or b) get to sleep. Long story short, I got 2.5-3 hours of intermittent sleep.

Despite this, I managed, with some trepidation, to make it to the start line.  Unlike last year, when I had no clue what the heck I was doing, this year I had some expectations, lined up at the front, and sleep or no, planned to give it a shot.

This attitude worked, sort of.  I started out well, with Mike Smith (the eventual winner) and some other guy taking off ahead in mile one.  No worries, I thought, my climbing tends to get stronger at higher altitude and then I've got the descent.  But 3 miles in, my lack of sleep and prior week of not feeling ideal crept up on me, and things went bad, fast.  My legs started feeling as heavy as concrete, and my muscles were burning like I was in the midst of a set of over-weighted squats.  Add on to that, I was having issues getting my nutrition down, and the remaining 7 miles didn't look like they were going to be pleasant, let alone possible.  It took some serious self-abuse (and an embarrassing amount of walking in the last 2 miles to the top) to get myself to the pass far slower and in worse shape than I had been planning on.  A few people had passed me (I was sitting in 5th position, I think), and 3 people were close on my heels, closing the gap fast on the climb.  Not a good spot to be in.

At this point in the race, however, things can't get worse in an exertion sense, so there was some consolation in that.  Still hoping to make the most of it, I did what I'm good at, and dropped out of the sky on that descent, passing in the first 2 miles of downhill running all but Smith (who was astronomically further ahead).  Things looked good at this point, until I took a wrong turn.  The course basically runs down a jeep road that winds up to the pass, but there are occasional offshoots that, at certain points, may or may not be the right way.  Hitting a particularly confusing fork, I saw port-a-johns off to the right, and so took that way, only to run into a gate, realize it was the other road, and have to run back and get onto the correct path.  Add 3 minutes to my time right there.

Following my wrong turn and correction, it was a pretty straight-forward run into the finish, only to find myself second by....19 minutes, and my time almost the same as from last year, when I was in far less refined shape.  Pretty disappointing.  I had been hoping to run around 2:20, which I think would have been possible (particularly considering my wrong turn adjusted time was 2:26) had I not had sleep and nutrition problems, and better been able to capitalize on my fitness. It was not my best day ever.

Anthony, Cara and Alice, post race in Telluride

Despite all that, Anthony, Cara, Alice and I had a nice weekend, and Telluride and Ouray were once again beautiful and impressive.  Hopefully I'll be able to sleep the night before next year, and have a better go at this tremendously awesome race.

Bergen Peak Trail Race

Yesterday was the Bergen Peak Trail Race in Evergreen, CO.  The course, as one might expect from the name, is based around a climb up Bergen Peak, and I chose it largely for this reason as a good tune-up before Imogene: starting at the Evergreen rec. center on the NE end of the Elk Meadow Open Space area (7,500' elev.), the race follows a 10.4 mile loop that rolls for 2 miles across Elk Meadow, then takes a turn and climbs 1,400' in 2.4 miles (estimates based on a park topo are from 7,800' to 9,200') then drops you straight back down over 2.7 miles back to the elevation you started the climb at, then takes you about 3 miles back across the rolling and very open Elk Meadow to the rec. center for the finish.

Dragon sculpture at Evergreen Rec. Center w/ Bergen Peak behind

Now, a month ago, this all sounded good on paper, but last week I was completely slammed with all sorts of meetings scheduled all over the place at times that conveniently chopped up my days to make any block of training time a rush, and was a bit wrecked from the mileage I put in at the Gotta Run XC camp.  So, there's that.

Stretching at my car the morning of the race, I was quite seriously weighing the merits of racing or not racing following a terrible warm-up, but after some sage advice from Alice, I decided to indeed race. I was lucky that as I stood there freaking out on the start line, someone who would later be identified as Dan Goding, was kind enough to ask me a couple of questions and joke around a bit. 

As for the race, it went something like this:
right from the gun, Andy Ames of the La Sportiva Mountain Running Team just shot off, with me in pursuit a fluctuating 15 to 30 meters behind, and a pack of bodies behind that.  We stayed this way over the first little climb in the first half mile, and then all the way across Elk Meadow to the base of the climb up Bergen Peak.  I wasn't feeling great through this part, but was maintaining pace, and as soon as I hit the climbing, my legs started to feel like they were actually underneath me.  Over the course of the climb, I gradually caught Andy, and ran the last mile up Bergen Peak on his shoulder.

Now, at this point in the past, I might have made a move, but this was a relatively sketchy descent, and with my head full of images of my skid down Gregory Canyon, I made the decision to pull up, and ease it through the descent.  At least that was the plan, but 1200m down the descent as Andy and I picked our way down, Dan Goding came blasting by.  Just freaking flying.  Still petrified of falling again, but not wanting to concede this early in the race, I went ahead and took off after him, still a little hesitant, but not letting the separation his descent was capable of creating happen.  After some tight switchbacks, we made it to the base of the descent, he about 20m ahead of me, I decided this was the time to give it a go, so as we turned for home across Elk Meadow, I upped the tempo, took the lead and carried that home to win, with Dan 40 seconds in arrears, and Andy a minute or two back from that.

It was hardly what I would call a good race, and physically it was not my best day ever, but it was good to shake off the rust of earlier in the summer, and I got to meet and chat with Dan and Andy, which was quite enjoyable.  Additionally, the course was spectacular, the race was well run and would have been relaxing and fun were I not neurotic, and Evergreen was beautiful.  Definitely a recommended event.

Back on the trails...sort of

After a week in Virginia/West Virginia at Capon Ridge XC camp, I am back in Boulder, and with a basically mended arm and sea-level refreshed feritin levels, back running my usual trails again.  Except with all the falling and breaking from earlier this summer, I'm feeling a bit like Joseba Beloki, who in the early 2000's fell during the Tour de France and snapped his femur, and never looked quite the same racing his bike again. 
That's maybe an extreme comparison, as snapping a femur would have been a much more serious injury, but I've felt horribly tentative out there.  I ran at Betasso Monday, Chautauqua yesterday, and Walker Ranch today, and during all of those runs, I couldn't quite get past the sensation that I was GOING to fall, and as a result I was slow on the turns and descents, places where I previously would have ripped through at full speed.  And recognize this as I might, shaking that sense of unease was not readily done.

Overall, however, it was good to be back on real trails, and hopefully my skittishness just reflects my lack in some other training areas (i.e. strength and drills), and my confidence will come back as those do.  Otherwise, I'm going to have to schedule some serious fearlessness training sessions.

Today was the day of truth.  An appointment with the orthopedist to find out if my cast had to stay on for another 2 weeks. 
The result:  no more cast.  I was down-graded to a splint that, though I am supposed to only take it off for seated activity, it can also come off for.....running! So so long to a sweaty, gross, and perpetually damp thing constraining my wrist.

The best part of the whole appointment was that through 5 weeks with a cast on, during which time my wrist had locked up and my forearm muscles severely atrophied, my watch tan was still very much intact, as pictured below.  Frankly, I'm not sure whether to be proud, or concerned.

Scurvy Dogs at Work

So my computer crashed in April, and among the many inconveniences of this occurrence was that I lost (temporarily, thankfully) all my pictures from the Cheyenne Mountain 50k.  They have since been recovered.  Below are some shots of my finish, and the awards ceremony (credit is due not to me, but to a professional photographer hired by the race organizers).

The last 200m was a wide straightaway into the finish area.

I don't really know what I'm doing here. Apparently twisting seemed like a good idea...

I was pretty psyched to win, though my fatigue seems evident as well...

Final podium

Not my best two months ever

The last two months, basically since the Cheyenne Mountain 50k, have been, in a word, forgettable.  It has been one of those stretches of time where seemingly everything that could go poorly did, personally, professionally, athletically.  Not fun.
Rather than whine here about all of that, I'm just going to discuss the most running-relevant of those events, which were a series of absurd injuries.

Following the Cheyenne 50k, I had every intention of getting in another race before my wife and I went to Mexico as planned for the second half of June.  After a few days off, I got training again, but things just weren’t clicking (see all the other things that were not working out well). So I threw in the towel, and took an actual break, intending to get life together, and start up a new cycle and race during the summer instead. 
As planned, I get started, and put in a week of good running.  Then, the Monday morning of that second week (June 13th), I’m running late for a doctor’s appointment, so I leap onto my primary mode of transportation, which is my fixed gear road bicycle.  With a normal commute of about 2 miles from my house to my office on campus, this has served me well all year, even amidst some heavy snow and stupidly cold temperatures this winter.  On this day however, as I took off quickly and quite aggressively (on account of being late), I did not pay much attention to the seed pods/flowers from the trees that were generously strewn all over the path through my housing complex. 
What happened next happened very, very quickly.  Moving at high speed about 15 feet from my back gate, I’m throwing my handlebars side to side to pick up speed, and I twist my wrist to peek at my watch.  In the same instant, my front wheel, now slung at a steep angle, hits a clump of that plant-matter, and I completely, utterly and totally eat it, crashing down and tumbling with my bike still between my legs.  After the shock of the crash wore off, I got up, and painfully continued my ride to the CU health center for my doctor’s appointment.
Long story short:  I cracked the scaphoid bone in my left wrist (as well as tearing up my right hand and right knee), and being confined to the below pictured sweet cast for 6 to 8 weeks:

This color was among the more palatable options offered.

Obviously unfortunate, but it actually turned out to be lucky that I was on my way to health center, because I got attention for the break, abrasions, and shock (oh yes, I passed out upon arrival at the health center) right away.  On the other hand, this, and the week off it required weren’t helpful to my return to training.

Now, as noted again, I said ‘Injuries’ as in plural, as in multiple.  I fell on Monday.  I got put in a cast Thursday.  I got running again Friday, and by the next Wednesday (June 22nd), I felt well enough to go for my mid-week long run, which I took from Chautauqua Park, up Gregory Canyon, Flagstaff road, Green Mtn. West ridge, the Ranger trail and then back down Gregory Canyon.  I had gotten through almost all of this, was on the Gregory Canyon trail, about 2 miles from the Chautauqua parking lot, on a sedate part of the trail, and moving well downhill, when, off balance because of my cast, I trip.   Now, I know I’ve got a broken arm, so, in the hopes of protecting this, I pull that arm up into my chest, and get ready to take the fall on my still tender right hand and left knee. 
So I hit the ground, and just go skidding for probably 20 meters on the wonderfully textured decomposed granite trail surface.  When I finally came to a stop, I just lay there for a moment, until a hiker (right behind me when I tripped, adding embarrassment to my injury) asks if I am OK.  Standing up, I was covered in blood and scrapes (I was running shirtless and in split-shorts), but, though in considerable discomfort, I was brushed off, thanks to the kindly hiker for helping with that, and able to get back to my car.
I drove home, made a panicked phone call to my wife to get some First aid supplies, and start to wash off the various cuts, scrapes and abrasions.  For the most part, they are just pretty bad scrapes, fairly deep and chocked full of gravel, but otherwise run of the mill.  One however, is not so OK.  Right on the head of my tibia, about 4” below my knee, I’ve got a nasty cut.  Now, I’ve hurt myself a lot in my life, but never anything like this, and each time I wash it out, the skin on either side of the cut looks almost fake, then it rapidly fills back up with blood.  Not cool.  So we jump in the car and head to the ER, where we learn I’ve cut myself down to the bone, that area being not otherwise protected.  So, in addition to cleaning up my other scrapes, I end up with the beautiful handiwork pictured below:  5 stitches (plus a few internally), and some more forced time off running. 

This is after a good 10 days of healing.  Hence the scabs.

So there you have it.  Monday, break arm.  Thursday, get put in cast.  Wednesday, fall again, go the ER, get stitches.
Needless to say, I've been on some down time after that stretch of 10 days, and I have made it a new primary goal for the remainder of my season to simply stay vertical.

Imogene

Anthony and I at the start.  It was cold.

Last year I ran my first trail/mountain race, the Imogene Pass Run, at the behest of my friend Anthony Arena.  When he was making this suggestion, it was May, and he was insisting that I needed to stay up until midnight so that I could register immediately in the wee hours of the morning on June 1st.  I did so, and was pretty amazed the race filled up in like, 5 hours, but didn't really understand any of this until having run it last year.  It's an amazing event that takes you on jeep roads and scree fields from Ouray at 8,000', up over a 13,000' pass (the Imogene Pass), then drops you down on a twisting jeep road into Telluride (7,000').  And it was great.  Without knowing much about the race, or what the hell I was doing running in the mountains (I had spent the better part of the summer in sea-level Virginia), I finished 6th overall, a result that got me excited for trail running as a meaningful activity of focus.

This year, even though training hasn't recently been going well, I eagerly stayed up to register, succeeded in doing so, and am looking forward to the race on September 10th, again with Anthony.  Doing well here is a big objective for my season.

Included here are some pictures of last years race, courtesy of Cara Arena:

An unbelievable number of people come to run this race.

The start, down Main Street, Ouray, CO.

Cara and Alice's last glimpse of me until the other side.

In Telluride.  Note the amazing scenery.  You can just see the Imogene Pass, above the car to Alice's right.

Sad News

I learned this weekend of the loss of a wonderful friend, Abraham Yacob. I had the pleasure of meeting Abe when he attended a running camp I was working, and he distinguished himself as both an exceptionally talented athlete, and as a wonderful, kind and enthusiastic person.  As a Coach at running camp, I often meet phenomenal young people, and even among this group, Abe really stood out, and we remained in regular contact.  Sadly, Abe passed away this weekend, a few months before the end of his senior year in high school.  He was a wonderful person, his death a tragedy, and he will be missed. 

Abe Yacob, tearing it up in a cross country race.

Cheyenne Mountain Trail Race Recap

This past Saturday was the first annual Cheyenne Mountain Trail Race 50k.  This was also my first full on certifiable ultra, trail or otherwise.  In fact it was my first competitive race in quite some time, since early last September.  It has been a challenging first year of work on my doctorate, and that was kind of the story of the lead up to this race.

Driving down to Colorado Springs on Friday, I was feeling fairly under-prepared. I lost essentially all of February to illness and work demands, and my recent workouts had been fine, if unimpressive as far as I was concerned, and on the inconsistent and spotty side.  I was excited for the race, and eager to see how it would go, but not expecting anything spectacular.

Having not been to Colorado Springs in ages, I had forgotten how beautiful the mountains are here, and even just two short hours south of Boulder, considerably more desert-y, which I actually prefer so that was a nice surprise.  The race was taking place, as the name suggests, at Cheyenne Mountain state park, and basically involved 2 figure-eight loops, with varied terrain, a few technical patches, and about 1500'+(?) of climbing per lap.  The design made the course reasonably spectator friendly, a fact I appreciated, as my college teammate and our wives had come, and they would have several opportunities to see me go by.

After a short warmup consisting of 10 minutes of running and then my Active-stretching circuit, I headed over to the start line.  I will say the thing I think I most liked about the start of this length of a race is the relaxation of the start line.  It's a lot more enjoyable to be able to stand on the start line casually chatting with the people next to you as opposed to the atmosphere on the start line of a track race, which is akin to the feeling of knowing you are about to get punched in the face.  There's just always a lot of intensity building up on the track, but with the first few strides of a 31 mile race being not super worrisome, this wasn't the case on Saturday.  That being said, when the gun (I think they shot a gun?  I actually don't remember...) did go off, we did get moving, and quickly.

The course took us up a road from the parking lot, and 3 guys charged out to the early lead, and I settled in behind them, and we hit the singletrack as a quartet.  We were moving well, but the pace was comfortable, and it seemed this might be our group for awhile, then around 5k the guy in front of me (later to be identified as Jason Schlarb), made a significant move, a shook up our order.  I tucked into third, and the initial leader began to fade off the back as we climbed the first half of the '8' on our first lap.  By the time we came back through the start/finish area, I was comfortably running in second, and feeling pretty good, a feeling that would continue through the second half of that lap on the more daunting and challenging part of the '8.'

It seems needless to detail all my random thoughts, but with it being my first ultra, I had the following revelations over the middle 20k of the race:

• Chocolate Clif shot is not a good choice for cold mornings when you aren't carrying any water
• Wearing a watch might be helpful in the future.
• I'm not sure what the etiquette on sharing lead duty is when you're racing single-track.  I felt like a leech tagging along in second, but there wasn't really anywhere for me to safely pass and share the work...
• Why, on April 24th, is it snowing and windy?  I'm still getting used to this Colorado weather.

So with those random thoughts, as we were about 5k into the last lap, I was still comfortably in second, and Schlarb and I were starting to create some separation on third, and cemented this on the downhill into the start/fnish area, and mile 23.  Rolling down into this area, I was feeling really strong, and pretty excited that I was in the top two.  I enjoy the tension of a good race, and this certainly was one. As we passed through a wide section at the bag drop, Schlarb went for his stuff, and I finally got an opportunity to share some of the work up front, and took the lead, with Schlarb slotting right behind me in second.  We ran like this for about a mile, and then began the long gradual climb up towards the technical part of the back loop, and I could feel the gap between he and I widening a bit.  Now only about 24 miles in, it seemed like if I was going to get an opportunity to make a move, this might be it.  I was feeling strong, so I started what felt like a significant move, and I had built up a pretty good gap as I blew through an aid station without any hesitation and headed on towards the 40k mark.
Just as I was getting pretty enthused by what was happening, my highly inadequate base caught up to me, and I hit a wall like I have never even imagined.  Words cannot express how bad this felt, and the last 600' of climbing on that loop were a death march.  It was all I could do to keep focused on moving forward and not worry too much about the catch I felt must be coming.
The effort ended up being so intense that my descent back to the final aid station, something I tend to consider a strength, was hampered by feeling completely and utterly wobbly.  Luckily for me, as I hit the 45k mark and turned towards the finish line, things started to come back together, and I cruised in, not as strongly as I hope to in the future mind you, but decently, for the win, which was a huge and welcome surprise (particularly the $500 prize money, because, you know, while that is by no means my motivation or impetus for running or racing, graduate students aren't exactly raking it in...).  I finished in 4:09.04 for the 50k, a good first effort. Post-race, I did hear some GPS bearing folks saying the course may have been long, but I don't know what kind of difference that would have actually made, and I don't feel like standardized distances particularly matter much.

Overall the race was excellent, and Epic Endurance Events, the organizing group, put on a really good event with great volunteers and a wonderful course.  I'll certainly be back next year. If only they could control the weather....

Neither my wife nor friends took any pictures, but there are a bunch up at the Epic Endurance Website, http://epicenduranceevents.com/ and at pikespeaksports.us, which also has a nice write up of the whole event, and includes an unfortunate, but accurate, quote in which I sound like I had to go the bathroom during the race. Below however, is the awesome giant check I won, which frankly, is almost as good as the actual cash:

With that one down, and a resounding success, it's time to actually do some focused training, and start looking for some further racing opportunities for this spring and summer...

First Post!

Doing an ultra has been in the works for several years now.  Ever since college, it seemed like trail races would be a good extension of my love for training on the trails in Williamsburg, but the idea of moving from the comfortably short 3000m distance of the steeplechase to 30+ miles, combined with the time commitment of teaching, kept me away.
 Despite these barriers, I've been toying with the idea for the last few years, even going so far as to register for a few local Vegas trail races, usually following summers where I had some great runs and encouragement from Brain Schmidt, a former high school coach of mine and ultra-runner who I now work with at a running camp in West Virginia, though inevitably, I never made it to the start line of these races. This was probably for the best, as 11 hour teaching days in a middle school do not lend themselves to effective training and recovery.
As I started my doctoral program this August, I was pretty set on throwing in the towel on even aspirations towards competing again until a friend of mine convinced me to tag along and race the Imogene Pass Run (more on that later).  It was epic, and thrilling, and after that, I started setting my sights and gearing up for some further trail/ultra racing in 2011.