50k recovery and a 5k

The best way to recover from a 50k? Not a 5k. But if I had to pick a 5k, this was the best one to do. I ran exactly zero miles (excluding ones with Hunter) between races, instead hosting some out-of-towners: Megan and Annie, then Hunter's Mammo and Nanny. We had a blast, and Jeremy and I even squeezed a date in.

So Sunday morning was a new 5k for the Ronald McDonald house, being held in accordance with a new bike race downtown. The crit course was .8mi on South Main, a rejuvenated section south of downtown with lots of historic houses and great restaurants. And as a commenter (erroneously) said, how perfect that 4 x .8 miles is a 5k (once again, can't my races ever be short?). 

The timing was perfect since I could sneak away before Hunter woke up, and he'd be very entertained by his grandmother and great aunt anyway, so off I went. As few people as I know in town, one of the race organizers I did know, and she hinted that I might be out front. 

I was. There was a guy ahead of me through half a mile, but he took a wrong turn, squeezing through the line of barricades instead of following their curve. The guys behind me started shouting "left, take a left!!" to me, and it was more than obvious which way I was supposed to go. 

After just 8 corners and one long hill, I was back around to the start line with 3 more laps to go. Soon after crossing the line and passing the announcer and stage, a bike escort showed up beside me. He followed me and gave a few encouraging words, mostly while chatting with the course monitors who were commenting about how fast I was going! You could tell they were cyclists and not runners, though, because my less than blazing 6:38 pace wouldn't normally be commented upon. I really appreciated it, regardless. 

Probably the best spectator/cyclist comment, that almost made me laugh had I not been breathing too hard up the hill for the 4th time, was, "So what do they run, like 16 minutes?" Spoken like a true criterium racer. My escort knew it was 4 laps, but still told me "one to go!" when I actually had just a quarter mile to go. I gasped a "no I'm done after this one!", and thought of how fitting that would be after that indoor "800m" in college where we ran an extra lap on the 160m track. Torture. At the finish, the announcer asked me for my time. Ha! 

It was tough actually racing this 5k since there was no one around, not even any men close to me. I tried to push it a few times and found that my quads would let me know that they were definitely NOT recovered from the 50k. I ran a few cool down miles before driving off through the closed bike course where racers were starting to warm up (oops!), and I went straight to the bakery down the street to reward myself with coffee and muffins. 

I forgot to run again this week until today, Thursday. I did swim at one of my all time slowest paces, and made it to the acupuncturist AND the structural integrationist to work on my back and hip kinks. Maybe I'll continue this recovery/taper routine until Saturday, when my 19th season of triathlon commences. I hope this season is half as fun as my first.  

Ouachita Trail 50k

Ouch! I did not train enough for this race. Could it be that a weekly long run of only 12-13 miles, or the fact that my "trail" runs consist of either running the paved River Trail, or less than 3 miles at a time of smooth crushed gravel, did not prepare me for 31 miles and 3700ft of elevation gain over boulders, roots, and small trees? Surprisingly, I have almost all of my skin still intact, despite -- or maybe because of -- my approximately 8 year old trail shoes. I think these are the ones Damie gave me so long ago. I did notice that the mark of modern day trail shoes is their fluorescent colors. Mine are more of the camouflage variety that were in vogue many years ago.

I appreciated all the congratulatory messages about my finish! But this is my fourth (I think?) 50k, not even one of my best ones. First one at this age, on this little mileage, for sure. It seems at 27 years old I was much more capable of getting by unscathed with little training; after that first 50k, I distinctly remember saying how surprised I was that my legs didn't hurt more. Usually I say the soreness is directly related to the speed at which I ran the marathon, in Ironmans, that is. A 5:45 split = no difficulty with stairs. A 3:30 = backward curb descent.

Let me tell you, "sore" doesn't begin to describe the pain running down my quads after the 50k, even at the (seemingly) snail-like pace I finished. I wonder if I notice it more because my 2-year-old doesn't let me stop running races with him up and down the driveway just because I ran a few extra over the weekend, nor does he stop kicking me in the quads in the middle of the night. It is not unusual of me to have dreams about falling that jolt me awake in the middle of the night. Since the race I've had dreams of tripping over rocks and falling that jolt me awake.

Nancy and Cristina came in town Friday night in plenty of time for us to pick up Jenny and wait for a table at a restaurant for an hour. They scared me by saying they were going to leave the house at 4:50am and I decided it would be easier on all of us if I drove separately in the morning. They left nowhere near that early, and I left soon after, getting there just in time to pick up my packet and pee in the woods (or close -- it was dark). The race started off on the road out near Pinnacle Mountain, and the real excitement happened less than a mile in when a headlight-less car came careening around a corner, trying to hit all 200 of us like bowling pins. Nobody was hurt, surprisingly, but our heart rates all maxed. About three miles up the road we finally entered the trail, and it was just light enough to see the trail as the rockiest section began. At mile four, we headed up Pinnacle.

The ascent and descent are approximately one mile total, which we accomplished in about half an hour. On the way up, I got very familiar with Nancy's shoes, since they were right at my eye level, and she was behind a guy in a kilt, lucky thing. As beautiful as it is on top, we didn't pause long to enjoy, and just started hopping right down again. 

Soon after the mountain we started the trail going around the north side of Lake Maumelle. We really didn't get much of a view of it -- or maybe we did. I tend to stare at the rocks or shoes in front of me to avoid falling on my face. But I DID fall a couple of times. The first was coming into a water stop, and I'm surprised a photographer didn't capture it. I'm sure it was graceful, since it was in slow motion.

Miles and miles later, I just could not keep up with Nancy and her light footed flying down the hills. I was getting more and more nervous, so I had to do the opposite of what good ultra runners do; I had to run slowly downhill and faster up. Anyone who has done an ultra can tell you that the strategy, especially early on, is to take the uphills easy. If I did that I was never going to finish. So we stayed in touch, just not right together after about 20? 22 miles?

Despite my careful downhill foot placement, I kept tripping and then finally did it again at mile 25ish. I had a nice quick bust on another rock, this time cutting my hand a little and scratching up my legs and stomach. Soon after, I rolled my left ankle, stepped on the right foot, rolled the left again, and caught myself laughing. Consecutive ankle rolls!

I wasn't sure how I managed to be so clumsy and prone to falling until I saw the pictures on Arkansas Outside. Apparently I run with my eyes closed, in not one picture, but two. That explains so much.

The last three miles again were on the road, and awfully painful, but luckily mostly downhill. I had texted Jeremy with about 3 miles to go telling him my ETA, and just couldn't work up the coordination to get my phone back into my pocket, so this is how I finished.

I am happily relaxing for a few days (or weeks) until my next race, which is quite the opposite of a trail ultra. But I'm glad to have run the beautiful Ouachita Trail with Nancy! Who knew a 37-year-old could run 30 miles a week in training for a 30 mile race and survive? As Hunter answered that rhetorical question the other day: "Hunter knew."

Spring adventures

I have been wallowing in self pity about my athletic abilities since the half marathon a few weeks ago, so I decided to do something other than run around on pavement trying to get faster. While it's still a little cold for my comfort, I joined in a couple of group rides where we chased each other in intervals up and around the park by the river. It was fun, and I had forgotten how much more wattage I can produce when pacelining and hanging on wheels. I can never keep up the effort on the trainer somehow. I'm sure pinning recipes on Pinterest while doing intervals is helping me a lot.

I also ran out the Ouachita trail a ways last weekend. The trail went around Lake Maumelle, and it is the site of the aptly named Ouachita trail 50mi/50k at the end of April. It was nice to get off the roads, but seeing exactly zero other people on that side of pinnacle mountain made me nervous. I started thinking of the wild boars (I have heard may have existed somewhere within 1000 miles of there). There's always something out there that is going to eat me. My peroneus muscles are still sore 4 days later from all the ankle rolling I did.

And then I swam! That is happening with less and less regularly lately, but maybe once the pool bubble comes off I'll be more motivated. Ah, but then it is thunderstorm season, and I have another excuse.

We have taken H on a few excursions recently to get outside in areas not adjacent to our house. The daffodil field out west gave me ideas for my dream yard someday. My favorite flowers surrounded my favorite people, and we found acorns, ran through the fields, and smelled buttercups for hours.

Then yesterday we went out to Petit Jean mountain to hike to the waterfall with the cousins, who are on spring break. H loved it. He decided he wanted to RUN on the rocky trails. Then after climbing a few boulders, he wanted to climb up to the top of the rocks. Up THERE, Daddy.

 See, this rock climbing is easy. Let go, Daddy.

Jackson across the river

 "Whoa," he said, discovering the top of the mountain.

And as for my own house and yard, it's my first year to own a nice moist plot of soil that flowers will actually grow in. So the planting has begun. With lots of help.

So I just snap it right off like this?

The Littlest Runner

Hunter got some new running shoes recently. He refused to wear them for a few days, just like he refused to wear any clothes at all outside in the 50 degree weather this morning. But we finally convinced him that his running shoes were just like Ma's and Dad's, and they would make him run fast. He tried them out, they fit, and off he ran. The next time we were headed outside, he signed "running" and "shoes." :)

Jenny and I took him and Ethan to my favorite in-town running trail to run, obviously, and pick moss, find rocks and acorns, and throw them in the creek.

The open trails

I had the afternoon off yesterday (have to take all my vacation time before the job ends this month), so I left town at a few degrees over 100 and intensely sunny and headed up a few thousand feet to the trailhead at the top of the mountain. It was drizzling rain and my car reported that the outside temp was 55. In degrees Farenheit. I waited a few minutes until the rain slacked off and headed out to the trails. It definitely didn't feel 55 degrees cool, but it was such a relief to shed the sweaty clothes and breathe a few breaths of moist cool air. 

I went to the Trestle trail where I'd been once before with Mom and Dad last fall, but wasn't sure where I'd go after. I hadn't really explored the area, but ended up finding intersection after intersection, all well marked and pointing me to familiar places. 

I had forgotten my trail shoes and foot calluses, as it has been several months since I've done any trail running up there (the forest has been closed!), and wound up with a few blisters, but it was so worth it. I kept finding myself just smiling about being out there on the trails. I'm sure the few others out there hiking thought I was a bit psycho, but then again, maybe they understood. I kept marveling at the smell of trees. There are mostly pines up in that area, with a few aspens thrown in for fall color, and I couldn't get enough of the smell. I just wanted to bottle up the air and bring it back down. 

I didn't carry any animal repellent this time, since I was staying so close to the highway, but I did get to see a tiny snake and what I am positive was bear poop. I almost took a picture of the poop, but instead just stood there trying to figure out what it had eaten instead. I'm not a poopaphile, I just like knowing what lives on those trails besides deer (which make themselves very known). 

Apparently I went down down down many hundred feet at the beginning of the run (I have sore glute meds to prove it), because that last mile and a half was all uphill. I may have even interspersed my running with a few seconds of walking so as to not make it a complete zone 5 effort. When I got back to my car, it told me that the temp was up to almost 80, which felt much more realistic. For some reason I always expect the basin to have cooled off while I was up on the mountain cooling off, but it has yet to happen. So it was back to August and bright sun. It was a nice little vacation though. 

I have GOT to make this at least a weekly trip, and with all the time off I'm about to have, it may be a realistic possibility.

Here's my trail, but last year, when it was sunny and dry.

This little snake didn't move a millimeter even when I got up right next to him to check him out. I think he thinks he blends a little better amongst those rocks than he actually does.

Summertime

My summer seems to be divided up in my mind based on visitors and vacations. Races have been sprinkled in there, adding to the trip side. I got started with a trip to Santa Fe, that marked the official beginning of summer on Memorial Day weekend. Then it was off to California, followed by a visit from Charlie, and then last week was a visit from Jenny and her clan. 

We filled the days with hiking

swimming in the waterfall (naked, if you were under 2)

hydrating

sliding

sledding

and playing Rock Band.

The extra long weekend went by super fast, and next thing I knew it was Sunday and we were headed to the airport in El Paso to say goodbye :(

The weather has gotten a lot cooler around here and the rains are coming. We had a few sprinkles in the basin, and up on the mountain, the Forest has even reopened. Mornings are so nice with cool temps and little wind, so I've been trying to ride my bike to work more often. It really only takes about 30 minutes as opposed to 15 to go those 10 miles. Some afternoons, I get a straight on headwind for the 7 miles on the highway, but it's going by faster and faster. They keep adding obstacles in my path. For the last few months a section of road right outside my neighborhood has been torn up, leaving rough pavement and thick gravel for a few hundred yards. This week they dug a 4 foot trench on my only exit road from the neighborhood. It requires a dismount and hike of the bike, but doesn't slow me down too much. We'll see what they throw at me next.

One more week of riding and then we are off to Italia for two weeks! The itinerary isn't set quite yet, and I keep thinking of more and more places to visit. There will be little riding, hopefully a good bit of running and hiking, and definitely some swimming in the Mediterranean. One week from tomorrow we leave!

I've been so bad about blogging for the last 2 weeks, or however long it's been since we got home from California. It was a great trip, and we followed it up by picking Charlie up at El Paso International for a long weekend of desert activities.

We started with a road ride followed by trying to keep up with him for a brick. I thought this altitude was supposed to slow him down! Maybe it did; I'm just that slow. And can I comment on his trail running, you know, as a triathlon coach and regular gait analyzer? He glides over those rocks like it's nothing, so his upcoming stage race shouldn't be much of a problem.

A few trails outside of our closed national forest are still open, so mountain biking was an option after all. The bike shop owner where we rented surprised us in accepting our offer to come along for the ride, and ended up being our tour guide. Here's some scenery for you. And the view of the mountain is nice too :)

I would've gotten more pictures, but was doing too many white knuckle descents to get out the phone. They were scary due to my extreme lack of mtbiking ability. We were excited that CBD brought some rain for us (see those clouds?). It sprinkled on us on the way home, but ended up being more tragic than it was worth: another forest fire was started by the lightening. Ugh, will this ever stop? We're a little late getting started on monsoon season, but have had a couple of minutes' worth of rain at the house in the last month.

We were sad to see Charlie go after his short stay. This week we've found ourselves wrapped up in something else: the Tour de France. I think I mostly watch it for the commentating by Phil and Paul, and for getting nervous for Cavendish at the end of the sprints. I like him.

I was amused at Contador yesterday when after crashing, he threw his bike off in the ditch like, "get this piece of $*** out of here." If I was that spectator I'd be on that thing riding off into the distance before he could turn around. I'll take his toss-asides.

It's around :40 in this video if you missed it (and poor Janez Brajkovic).



Side note: For some really good analyses of TdF power data, see my favorite sports science blog.

Besides visitors and tours of France, we've started picking up the training around here, and that includes a few bike commutes to work on the very wide but very dirty shoulder of the highway that's not nearly as scary as I thought it would be. It really only takes me 15 or 20 more minutes than usual, so if I can just get everything together, it's not overly inconvenient.

We're leaving tomorrow for Roswell again, to do the Bottomless Lakes Triathlon. It's super short, but we swim first, just like I like it. The only stress I'm having is from reading about this Bottomless Lake, which is 90 feet deep, but clear. I keep telling myself that I've done Ironmans in deeper, with shark potential to boot. This won't make me panic. THIS WON'T MAKE ME PANIC.

Next week we host a long weekend again, but filled with some different activities. Jenny and family will be here to check out the desert and see if it's up to Jackson's standards. I'll report back on that.

CA: Monterey down to Ventura

Jeremy once again is on the ball and blogging before I wake up in the mornings. So he has all the good pictures and stories of our adventures. I'm not sure I can even add anything to what he's said, except he's such a good travel buddy. It seems we get hungry at the same times, need a restroom break together, and want to do the exact same stuff. And what else do you need in a husband?? :)

Monterey was an awesome city, with a bike path stretching at least from one end of the other. We actually never saw either end; it was left to the imagination. Around Fisherman's Wharf, it was crowded with walkers and those 2 seater side by side cart bikes where you can put your 4-year-old sister in the front basket and do all the pedaling for you and your older sister who pretends to be carrying her weight... sorry! Memories of pedaling around Point Clear, AL.

Anyway, I loved Monterey and all of its coastal bike paths, people, historic canneries, mansions, and flowers. I think I might do this with my front yard instead of the multicolored rocks.

After an amazingly filling breakfast (we didn't eat again until dinner) on Sunday morning, we headed south on Highway 1 along the breathtaking cliffs high up over the water. I found myself actually holding my breath along the winding route, pushing that imaginary brake pedal that only driver's ed instructors actually have (mental note, add one to the Jetta).

Jeremy had picked for us 4 state parks to stop by, and I have to admit the first one looked boring upon entrance. It was the most scenic, beautiful park I've probably ever visited. We decided to do a slow run along the smooth dirt paths through flowers, over hills, and along the shoreline. At some point I realized that I take pictures mostly of flowers and/or cliffs. Usually both.

Big Sur state park was pretty impressive as well, though we spent less time here, and even less at Julia Burns park. This was the site of a house in the early 1900s, and it overlooked this waterfall onto the beach.

We finally finished most of the day's journey in San Luis Obispo, where there were many restaurants to choose from, and Mama's Meatballs won our vote. We took a short drive to Lompoc, right next to Vandenberg AFB to spend the night. That got us close to our riding destination for today, which was to Solvang. If you saw the Tour of California this year, or you know Gary Ironman, you also know that Solvang is in some great riding country. We did an out and back to the Danish settled Solvang to have lunch and see the town, then rode through the vineyards and flower fields back to Lompoc.

Our last side trip of the day was to the beach in Carpinteria, which supposedly is one of the safest for swimming. And there were many people doing just that. With the water nowhere near the 70F mark, and the air in the mid 60s, a toe in the water was all I needed to convince me that I was not joining the hardened local kids in that surf. A lounge in the sand was how I spent my time.

And tonight will be spent in Ventura, where 5 large sushi rolls were consumed by the two of us before retiring to our hotel. Tomorrow's ventures may include the Channel Islands, and who knows where we'll end up. Until then.

Out of Towner

I've been making the habit of being out of town a lot lately. Last weekend was Santa Fe with Jonathan and Colleen, who were amazing tour guides in a city they'd never been to. Colleen had trips and tours planned for us, and Jonathan has this sixth sense for directions. This was my third time to the city and I couldn't navigate without Jonathan's help. 

We had some great food and saw some old stuff. The Taos Pueblos are the oldest continuously inhabited residences in the country (at least 700 years, maybe 1000). The oldest house, the oldest church, and the oldest government building are all right there in the middle of Santa Fe, so I ran by. This is the "oldest house."

 

I continued my run right in the middle of downtown along the river trail. Seems hard to get lost out there, but without Jonathan, I did. Only for a few minutes.

This trail is right in the middle of downtown, did I mention that? How jealous am I? I mean, trees everywhere!

Yesterday we traveled to Roswell for Jeremy's race. I do like a city with a theme. 

Just outside of the suburb of Dexter, right beside lines of crop-circled pastures, you have the small, clear, sparkling Lake Van. Yes, we are getting out in the middle of nowhere here. But they had an old school, first class race, Milkman. Speaking of themes, check out the RD's pants! And yes we got our fill of milk and ice cream following.

Jeremy raced fast and only got chicked by only one girl, who is incredibly fast, along with being one of the nicest, most humble people I know. He also baaaarely lost to that 2nd place guy because he started his kick a bit early.

There were no live alien sightings, although one might ask if that was really a deer that hit our car, made a huge dent and crack in the windshield, then disappeared into the field. 

We're planning on going back next month to visit another, "bottomless" lake, which is right up my alley (sarcasm font intended). But next weekend, it's up to the mountain for a little racing at 7000ft. I'm packing my extra set of lungs.

No more trail running

We are having quite the opposite problem of y'all in the southeast. The extreme drought conditions on top of the always windy springtime has made forest fires a big issue. On our way back from Tucson last week, we could see the fire on the Organ Mountains, just across the basin from us. Here you can even see some flames if you look closely.

This has closed a few hiking areas that Jeremy and I have either been on or scoped out, including Baylor Pass, which goes across one of the lower points. The reports say the missile range, which is on this side of the mountains, is to blame. The last report yesterday said while it's still burning, it is 100% contained.

Wednesday of next week will be the last day the Lincoln National Forest, MY forest, is open until sufficient rain has fallen to decrease the fire danger. I think they could just threaten punishment by death to anyone using fire or smoking in the area. I'm really sad about this, since what will be closed are ALL the trails and forest roads through the park. We can still ride on the highways, but no more trails. Monsoon season should start in a couple of months, but how much rain will make up for such a lack of it this winter and spring?

After hearing the news of the closing on Friday, I made Jeremy take me up on the mountain not once, but twice this weekend. Saturday we rode a longer loop with smaller hill grades. We were excited about the easy climbing until the headwinds hit. Uff. Then today we went to two different trails. The first neither of us had been on-- the Osha Trail. It was a short loop, but had a couple of trails diverging from it that we had to check out. The running was slow, even on the downhills, due to the rockiness. I slowly developed my mountain goat skills as we ran. And now I'm sure my stabilizer muscles will be hurting tomorrow. Nice views.

Next we went to Cougar Track trail (so named by yours truly) so I could show Jeremy Bridal Veil Falls, which, even in this drought, is still flowing. It was cool and clear, and I just wanted to get in it.

We found no tracks, and I tried not to obsessively look for them.

It was amazing the contrast in the trails. Up at the top, you're in a forest of firs. Go down a few thousand feet and you find red desert dirt trails that run along a flowing creek.

So that was our last weekend in the forest for a while. No more of this:

Or this...

...until somebody can send us some of that extra water from the Mississippi. We'll gladly take it.