Plyo Workout

Hello Camp Folks.

At long last, here is the Plyo Tutorial.  There are of course more exercises than these that you can add in or do as part of a bodyweight strength workout, and there are all sorts of different variations you can do on the exercises listed.  If you contact me, I'll get you a print out with a 'menu' of possible exercises.
The basic instructions, as identified in the video, are to go 1 minute on, 10 seconds off.  If you need to, work into it though.  Build up from 45 secs on, 15 secs off, to 50 secs on, 10 secs off, then up to 1 minute on, 10 secs off.  In any event, if you did the Plyo workout at camp, this will come back quickly to you.

Remember, you can't just run to get faster.  You need to be a total athlete to run FAST.

Surgery!

So the day prior to heading up to Concord Retreat for Gotta Run Running Camp, I went in to see a specialist about my ankle.  It just wasn't making any progress, even with consistent physical therapy. 

So the Doctor took one look at my MRI, and told me unequivocally that it was going to need to be surgically repaired.  If not, without my calcaneofibular and anterior talofibular ligaments, my foot/ankle bone structure basically was just sloshing around and clattering bone on bone, and would eventually wear through the cartilege and fuse together.  Plus there was a buildup of scar tissue on my anterior inferior talofibular ligament, which was getting pinched on my talus (bone directly under the tibial shin bone) and constricting my peroneal nerve, and causing my shin and lower leg to go numb as I ran.  Not fun.

So today, I went in for surgery to get all this repaired.  After I came out of anesthesia, the doctor told me, "It was a mess in there," and that besides all those ligaments flapping in the breeze, and the scar tissue, and some damage to the cartilege already, there was also a loose chunk of ligament just floating around in there.

In any event, its all done now, and wrapped up in this cast for the next 10 days, then I go into a walking cast for 4 weeks, then a boot (of the plastic, removable variety) for an additional 6 weeks.  Then I get to start returning to running with a Walk-Jog plan.  Awesome.

Ah well!  My ankle is repaired, now we hope it's fixed.

Active Isolated Stretching Video

Hello Capon Ridgers!

Embedded here you will find an unedited video of the normal stretching circuit that we used for warmup prior to running.  Over the next few days, I'll be putting up edited versions of the same stretching routine, the plyo workout, and the core exercises, as well as a list of other resources, and my instruction documents for each of these.  While I'd love to put everything up at once, I hope you will make sure you are stretching in the meantime!  Active Isolated Flexibility work will keep you healthy and help you recover faster. And don't forget, even if your team uses static stretching (or no stretching) at practice, you can add AIS flexibility into your evening routine - take 10-12 minutes before you go to bed and fast-track your recovery and flexibility gains.

(Also enjoy the background commentary as the Coaches and counselors get completely distracted and fixated on a tick, and what sort of viscous fluid they should use to remove it. Gross. Just ignore that, and pay attention to the stretching....)

Capon Ridge Running Camp 2012

Just arrived back from another great year of Capon Ridge Running Camp, sponsored by Nike. Lots of great kids and great teams came up this year, and we grew by about 20 campers, which is always fun.  In honor of the Olympics, our camp activities and games had an Olympic theme, complete with flags, and my forcing the counselors to sing the Olympic anthem again and again, which was hilarious to me, at least.  Nike also generously supported us again, bring us some awesome samples and information about the Flywire and Flyknit shoes and spikes that they are unveiling at the Olympics in London.  Really cool stuff.

I pretty much failed to take pictures this year, partially because I was working with campers on stretching most of the time, or yelling at Larry, and partially because I forgot my camera.  As I come across photos and video, I will see about posting them, but below are the photos of the actors who played certain roles, with their namesakes:

The Mikes. note the tattoos, belts as stand-ins for HR monitors, and various therapy equipment as apparel.  Mac (to my left) managed to look so creepily like me that my wife was somewhat bothered by it.

The Larrys, including Ransom's interpretation of Larry as an evil wizard with a cape.

Foley and his double, who put his goldfish tattoo in a more appropriate spot than Foley himself did.

 I am already looking forward to next year, and hope everyone returns for another year of running in the ridiculously steep hills of Yellow Springs, WV.


 

Broken again

So I have taken some time off running, as a result of the head injury suffered in Mexico back in December that had some unexpected consequences (head hurt for 2 months anytime I did anything strenuous, couldn't seem to concentrate either...), an increase in my workload, and a need to make running something that was adding enjoyment, and not stress, to my life.

I've since been building up again for the past month, nothing crazy, just trying to get out and run, even while in Queretaro, and my fitness was coming back nicely, and I was enjoying being out for hour runs or so.  Then, on the morning of June 26th, on the Mesa trail in Chataqua park, which I have run maybe 1000 times, I was coming down a hill on a morning run and BAM! my right ankle just went sideways.  It's a rocky trail, and I haven't the slightest clue exactly what I hit/stepped on, but I have never heard a joint crack like that before. It was terrible.  At the moment it happened, I was a solid 2 miles out from my car, and I couldn't put any weight on it.  I ended up hoping tree to tree back to the parking lot, which got pretty amusing as hikers started coming in on the trail, wondering what the hell I was doing. 

In any event, following Gibby logic ("Ankle injuries aren't real injuries."), I took a day off, then started running again.  Which led to it not just not improving, but getting exponentially worse.  Not good.  So I went in to the Doctor, where they x-rayed it, only to tell me that my ankle looked arthritic and like I was an 80 year old man, but it wasn't broken.  And they put me on crutches for two weeks. 

unfortunately, even the crutches didn't exactly help, and a week later, I had to go in to get an MRI, which revealed a full tear of the calcaneofibular ligament, and anterior talofibular ligament, but the posterior talofibular and ant. inferior talofibular were intact, as were all the tendons.  So at the moment, the prognosis is PT, and up to 8 weeks recovery time.  Boo.

Capon Ridge Running Camp starts in two days, and this will be the first time in 9 years of attending I won't be able to run at camp. Even post knee surgery I found a way to make it work.  I am bummed.

This fun bruising has lasted for a good couple of weeks....

Fire!

The last few weeks have been pretty crazy, as two big fires have been dominating the news and our air quality out here.  The High Park fire west of Ft. Collins and the Waldo Canyon fire in Colorado Springs have been greatly affecting our air (as seen below), but we also just had a fire break out on the western side of the ridge here in Boulder.  At one point, the flames actually jumped to the east side of the ridge, which is scary.  This is what happens when it is super dry, we get no snow, and there is entirely too many dead trees from Pine beetle kill.

It's crazy stuff, and I'm worried to see what the long term damage for these areas will be.

Smoke from the Flagstaff fire rising above Bear Peak and Shadow Canyon.  The fire is currently burning right on one of my favorite trails, that you access by running up the canyon in the center of the picture between the peaks.

Another of the smoke above Shadow Canyon and Bear Peak.

Here you can see the plumes of smoke from where the flames actually jumped to the east side of the ridge, and the trees right under Bear Peak were burning.

This was on the 4th of July, and may look like nothing, but you should be able to see for miles, and all the way up towards Summit County.  Because of the wind patterns, the smoke from Colorado Springs a 2 hour drive south) was so thick it was limiting visibility to about 2 miles.  Needless to say, fireworks were canceled.

This is a hawk I saw on a bike ride.  No connection, but I liked this bird.

Backcountry Skiing in RMNP

Got out on the 30th with Arena and Nally for some backcountry skiing in Rocky Mountain National Park.  Conditions are crazy advanced - more like it should be in early May.  Not much snow this season, which might mean some trouble down the road, as little snowmelt means a dry summer.  We shall see.  Anywhoo - pictures below.

We hit up the Dead Elk couloir, which is to the left of the sharp pointy ridge in the photos.  The trek in was itself pretty spectacular, and as is often the case with backcountry, it took several hours to skin-in to the base of the couloir, an additional hour to hike up it (Nally and Arena were considerably faster on the snow climb then my slow, overly-cautious self), and then about 20 minutes to ski down.  It was a great ski, though the late spring conditions were a bit of a shock and the snow was so choppy I took a bit of a spill at one point.  Other than that, great day out.  On the way back, we even had some extra time to play around with jumping off a drop.

Pictures are below, all taken by Arena.

Looking up at our route.  Dead Elk is obscured to the left of the central, pointy peak, Dragontail is to the right.

Rabbit we saw on the way in.

Taking the climbing skins off my skis before we started the snow climb up.

Looking down the couloir.  You can see me in the distance, falling behind.  Oops. Pretty great view though, right?  Hard to beat this at a lift-served resort.

Arriving at the top of the route....

Anthony's boots, with Dan and I getting ourselves situated prior to the descent.

About to head down.  You can somewhat make out via the shadows the choppy texture of the snow.

...and heading down.

Colorado Skiing

No posts for awhile, nor running for that matter.  Lots of work.  Alice and I have been managing to squeeze some skiing in on the weekends though.  This is Alice's first season skiing, and we've managed to hit up Eldora, Keystone, Winter Park and Loveland.  Very enjoyable - some pictures from these adventures are below.

Part 2 - In which medical attention is acquired.

So here I am, 5:20pm, it is getting dark, and I am wandering through the streets of Playa del Carmen, with only a vague idea of my whereabouts and destination.

And a very wide open head wound, with blood trickling down my temple and neck.

Needless to say I got some funny looks.

About 30 minutes and maybe 2 miles or so of wandering later, I arrive at the Red Cross, and after some confusion with the door (I couldn’t figure out how the hell to get in), I approach the counter where an EMT is sitting admitting people.  There’s a bit of a crowd in the waiting room, and I’m worrying that it may take awhile, but as I wait in line, the room empties quickly, with people and families being called back, and my stress eases a bit.

Eventually I get to the counter.  The conversation goes like this:

EMT: Buenas tardes.

Me: Buenas tardes, pienso que necessito puntos en mi cabeza (I show him my head)

The EMT guy takes one look at me, gets up, walks away, calls for the doctor.

In walks the doctor.  Very nice lady.  Conversation/action went like this:

Dr: Buenas tardes. Que es su problema?

Me. Buenas tardes, Yo corto me cabeza en un piedra, y pienso que necesito puntos

(I again show my head, to which the doctor gives a sort of ‘Yikes’ face to.)

Dr.: Cuando paso?

Me: Um….mediodia.

Dr. (shocked): Cuando?!?

Me (thinking I may have said something unintelligible due to my blood loss): Uh, doce?…hace 5 o 6 horas….Noon?

Dr.: No…Entiendo, pero…Dios mio….OK,..sigueme.

And so I was lead back into the clinic where the doctor and 2 nurses proceeded to put 4 stitches into my scalp and get a quick medical history, all in Spanish.  Much fun was had with the fact they got to cut my hair to access the wound.  Less fun was had when the nurses had to brace themselves to hold my skull steady as la doctora was yanking my scalp back together with medical twine.

The wound upon return from the Cruz Roja

In the end, all told, I had the following expenses:

The stitches, obscured by my hair.

$ 215 pesos for the procedure and clinic fees

$ 295 pesos for the antibiotics that I had/have to take because I spent the better part of the day walking around with an open wound protected only by Captain Ron’s gross shirt. 

This is the equivalent of  $36.39, and none of that involved any kind of insurance.

While I have many thoughts about this and the implications for the medical system in the US, I will share only the following two:

1.     With ‘good’ insurance in our privatized system, when I got stitches earlier this year in a less critical area (knee) and for a smaller wound, I've paid at least $500, just received and paid off the last bill, and very frankly lost track of all the bills that were sent and paid, so it was likely more.

2.     I waited less than 5 minutes for care in what was the equivalent to an ER/Urgent Care place.  Once, in Vegas, Alice and I waited to see a doctor for over 10 hours, all told, when she had a pulmonary embellism, and during which time I watched a man sit down to wait with 3^rd degree burns such that I could see the tendons in his arms move like piano wire.

So in the end, my head was still pounding, and I had to miss a few days of running (2), but I was mostly faced with the following ironic fact:  I had chosen to forego a trip to Mexico because I had stitches, only to end up getting stitches while in Mexico.  So there’s that.

An homage for Arrested Development fans.  That was the dressing the nurses put on me.

And the moral of the story is, if a stoned out beach bum tells you that you are fine and your injury isn’t a big one, never, for any reason, under any circumstances, ever, for any reason, should you believe him, or allow anyone else to.

Part 1 - In which a head injury is sustained...

For my first 2012 post, I shall recount the non-running related events surrounding yet another non-running related injury which I sustained.  To give context here, my family and I went to Playa del Carmen, Quintana Roo, Mexico over the break.  These events occurred the second day we were there.

Leading into the actual accident, we had spent the morning visiting Mayan ruins (very cool) then doing a zip-line/ropes course (pretty bored by this, what with trad climbing and all) that involved a 30 minute ride into the jungle aboard a suspension-less German army personnel truck with our stoned-out guide (think Captain Ron, if you have seen that abomination of a film).  After these activities, we were set to go swimming and snorkeling in cinotes, limestone caverns that were now filled with water.  These were spectacularly beautiful, with stalactites reaching down towards crystal clear water, and bats flitting in and out of the cavern roof and surrounding trees. 

So not 5 minutes after diving into this thing, I’m diving down to the bottom of the cave, a ways away from the entry point and where my family are swimming, and as I come up, I'm fiddling with my dive mask, and surface directly underneath the 2' square hulk of a now broken off stalactite/stalagmite column, head first. At first this was both painful and frustrating, but in retrospect, I doubt I would have even been able to distinguish the obstruction, being as it was, the same color as the ceiling of this cave. Regardless, it was a thunderous collision, and as soon as I swam to the side and out from under block in question, I immediately head to a rock, and perch myself up there to let the reverberations of pain subside, and ensure that I've not got a concussion, and that I'm not in 15' of water should I pass out.  After a moment or two, I’m thinking, “Ok, not so bad...Don't seem to be dizzy or anything, so I’m good, I’ll just have a wicked goose-egg tomorrow.”  But just as I am finishing this thought, something is running into my eye and blurring my vision, so I reach up and touch my head, and my hand comes away soaked crimson with blood. 

With this new information, I jump back into the water, and swim towards the exit, allowing others to now notice my condition, since I'm swimming back with my head pouring blood down my face and neck.  Out of the water I come. Everyone is getting a bit panicky, and so I try to defure things, and calmly just ask if they have any gauze, a med kit, or anything.  Nope.  So Captain Ron, who is not dealing with this crisis well himself, tears off his shirt and hands it to me, only to stop short, and ask, “I gotta ask man, you don’t have AIDS do you?”  Nope.  So he dumps a bottle of water over my head, then I proceed to begin putting pressure on my wounded scalp, which I have yet to see, with the shirt this guy has been wearing since 7am (it is 11:30 or noon) in a hot, humid jungle. Sanitary, yes? I know I was pleased.

This was taken just prior to our 35 minute ride out of the jungle.  I look thrilled, right?

The next 5 hours, to try to avoid all the minutiae, involved everyone around me trying to convince me that this was not a big deal, and that ice and pressure would fix it, and maybe I should eat something, while it became more and more obvious to me that I was far and away the most qualified person to make that sort of medical judgment (Captain Ron, nor his colleagues, were exactly EMT trained - At one point hydrogen peroxide was applied, but it's effects were minimal since the aforementioned t-shirt went right back on my head), but had no way of seeing this particular wound.  So it was Captain Ron’s shirt and a block of ice from the beer cooler as medical supplies while we rode the 35 minutes out of the jungle, bouncing up and down in the troop transport.  This was, I have to say, probably the worst part of the whole endeavor, as a bouncy ride trying to keep pressure on a wound with a hard block of ice that keeps bouncing up then slamming down on said wound, was, in a word, awful.

Around 4, we finally arrive at a place where I can take a taxi home.  But no one wants this to happen, since I think they worried they would be abandoning me. This wasn't a concern for me, my still bleeding scalp being much more disconcerting, but I struggled to communicate this. Eventually, I escape the sage advice of Captain Ron (“If you get in the salt water, it’ll close right up,"…"Just go chill out in a hammock and have a beer,”), make it home via a taxi, shower, and get to assess the state of my scalp.  The injury itself was a rather long, ‘7’ shape that continued to bleed with significant gusto. I will not describe it in detail, but will only say that, following my quick exam, it was apparent that the tectonic plates of my scalp were shifting independently of one another along the fault line of the cut.  This is, of course, grounds for stitches.  And so, nearly 6 hours after the incident, I wander off into Playa del Carmen with a vague idea of the location of a Red Cross station, to get medical attention....

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.