Slowing Down...for a minute.

No matter where I am or what I am doing, this time of year cannot pass, without me getting sick. I forget, until  that unrelenting dryness in the back of my throat reminds me that another year has passed and I am going to calm down for a few days, whether I want to or not.

I surrender to sickness. I don’t try to fight it or even really to suppress the symptoms. It seems futile. Clearly something wants out. So, despite how much it pains me, I resist the urge to do my normal thing…going full speed all day everyday. It isn’t really a challenge, for my normal routines aren’t even appealing right now. Coffee isn’t doing anything for me. Sugar has lost it’s sweetness. Running sounds disgusting. Brief urges to indulge these things are quickly forgotten as I feel my whole body ache.

Yesterday I watched three full movies. That is insane. I rarely ever commit myself to a movie. They are so long. This is what I’ve been reduced to.

I did mange to push this illness back a week. I spent last week in Ashland, Oregon, leading up to a race there and feeling it out in preparation for moving there this winter. A couple days before the race I could tell the sickness was upon me, so I took some homeopathic remedies and drank copious amounts of water as to not succumb before the race. It kind of worked. I was able to run the race, although definitely not feeling my strongest.

I ran the Lithia Loop Trail Marathon last Saturday.  Last summer, I ran the course, so knew what to expect. Knowing that the last 7ish miles were steep downhill (my favorite) and that I wasn’t 100%, I decided to take it especially easy on the first 8ish mile steady climb. I figured since I couldn’t be very competitive, I would at least save enough to really enjoy that 7 mile downhill.

And that I did. It was slightly difficult to resist the temptation to push it on the uphill as I got passed by hoards of people. I fought the urge and decided I would catch them all on the downhill. After mostly power-hiking the uphill interspersed with chatting, peeing, going back and forth with Kali, I reached the top and then settled into, what felt like a good steady pace for the 12ish flat, pleasant miles on a dirt road.

I decided to count the people I passed from the aide station that marked the end of the climb, as a way to entertain myself. I think I passed like 12 or 13 on the flat part. Then came the downhill. There was an aide station right before the plunge. I got some water did a little shake-out of my limbs, maybe even let out a little WOO HOO, then unloaded.

It was so fun. Effortless, really. Gravity is my friend. I flew down the first couple miles of dirt road, then had to reign it in a bit on the singletrack, as it was crowded and I had to negotiate passing people. I passed about 20 more people before reaching the finish line in 4 hours and 3 minutes. Clearly, I could have pushed it harder earlier in the race, but I think it was more enjoyable this way.

I jogged around and stretched as I waited for Kali to finish her longest race to date. She wasn’t far behind. We changed then headed in for the post-race festivities. The whole thing was really well done. It was really nice that all the miles were marked. The aide stations were plentiful. Good food/beer afterwards. Best t-shirt I have ever received in a race. All around good times.

Despite the fun of the race and couple of days that followed in Ashland, I knew I was on borrowed time. As I drove back out to our rural dwellings, the niceness wore off, and I was left with the reality of my condition. Yes, I am being dramatic. But, for an energy fiend, low energy equates with torture. As I realized years ago, I can’t get really high without getting really low. So, as I wallow in my sickness I can be assured that the high times are not far off. For now, I guess, I’ll watch another movie.

Flagline 50k: High Alpine Splendor

Right now I am in Bend, Oregon.  I've been in the area since last Friday.  Saturday I ran in the Flagline 50k, that started and finished at Mt. Bachelor ski area, located about 20 miles outside of Bend.  The race consisted of a triple figure eight-ish style loop.  It was the first time for a race on this course.  Bend is home to a endless bounty of singletrack trails, fully utilized by local mountain bikers and runners.

Mt. Bachelor Ski Area

I have run this distance in a race once previously, three years ago, near Lake Tahoe.  While I haven't been running huge distances the last two months, I felt prepared for the challenge.  I was also excited for the opportunity to get on a trail and go, with no other concerns, a luxury races afford their participants.  Quite an indulgent way to punish for your body.

My biggest concern about the distance was my feet.  Since spring I have been trying to adapt to minimal footwear not only while running, but in general.  I have been astounded by how fast my feet have been adjusting, but was a bit worried about going all out for such a long distance.  I wavered on whether or not to wear socks, as I have not been doing so for about two months.  I'm loving the feeling of not wearing them, but was worried that my feet wouldn't be able to handle the distance.  It turns out this was a very legitimate concern.

I stashed a pair of socks in a drop bag that would be at an aid station at mile 17ish and then again at 24ish.  I figured that I have gone on enough 10-15 mile-ish runs without socks that I wouldn't notice any damage until at least there.  I was so wrong.  The first eight miles were a slightly downhill on a less-than-a-road-but-more- than-a-singletrack stretch.  I found myself running right down a mountain biking trench and landing on the inside of my feet.  I could tell I was ripping the hell out of the inside of both feet.  Knowing I had socks and foot repair gear at mile 17 I tried to ignore it and just cruise.

This wasn't hard.  The first aid station was eight miles in.  After passing through and filling up my water, I glanced at my watch.  Exactly one hour.  Uhh oh.  That is definitely way too fast for me for the first eight of thirty miles.  I had no trouble slowing it down as we turned onto some definite singletrack that went up and down hills.  It was a really sweet section, but I was struggling a bit.  I just felt lethargic on the uphills and couldn't open it up on the downhills, because my feet were so tore up. Quite a few guys passed me on this section, most I never saw again.

Somewhere before the aid station at mile 15, I felt a whole lot better and settled into a good pace.  Trading places back and forth with a few guys that I stuck with until I got to my drop back at mile 17 and then sat down to doctor me feet.  I probably got them all fixed up in under five minutes.  Those fine motor skills are tough after 17 miles.  Untying my triple knots and unwrapping band-aids was tricky.  The kind aid station people were willing to help, but I thought I could do it faster.

All fixed up, I shot out of the aid station with half a sandwich (almond butter on rice bread) I had in a drop bag and ate it as I cruised down a dirt road.  This was another sweet downhill section and I was able to run much better with my feet fixed.  The sandwich didn't sit well, though, and I decided to stick to gels the rest of the time.  Three and a half (supposedly) miles down the road I turned onto a singletrack that went down a bit further before climbing back up to the same aid station I was just at.  This was another super-sweet section of trail.  I felt pretty good and hiked the uphills to catch my breath.  There were many mountain bikers everywhere cheering us on and trading places with us on the trail.

I passed back through the aid station at 24-ish then had a really good stretch of running on a gently rolling dirt road.  I passed through the last couple of aid stations feeling good and just trying to keep it going.  I felt good and was able to run most of it from there on out.  After passing some volunteers who claimed I only had three miles left, I noticed I was at just about 5 hours in and attempted to pick it up for the relatively flat finish.  Somewhere in there I wiped out, luckily not hurting myself.  What I guessed to be the second to last mile seemed to drag forever, but I finally hit the road for the last mile.  I dread the pavement, but I felt great after a minute on it and was able to push it in hard, passing a dude halfway to the finish line.

The finish line being packed up

I finished in 5:27:46.  I was happy enough with that.  I don't have much to compare it to.  I was an hour and 20 minutes behind the winner.  An hour and 10 minutes behind the first women.  But, there were some badasses there, so I can't complain.  And it was fun.  I love hanging in the woods for hours at a time, and being pushed to go as fast as I can only doubles my pleasure.

I am most impressed with how fast I have recovered...except my feet.  They are messed up.  I think they will be fine for this weekend, but I really want to run on all these awesome trails around here before them.  I really like Bend.  I am sure I will live here sometime.  Maybe this winter.  We'll see.

Home for a night, just outside of Bend

Now, I am looking forward to this weekend.  I plan to be on Orcas Island by Thursday night.  The Triple Ripple Trail Festival gets started Friday night, with the first race Saturday morning.  I'm pumped.  I think it is going to be so much fun.  It has been raining there a lot, but the forecast is looking good for this weekend.  As I've never been to Orcas Island, I know with just visiting there, I am in for a treat.

The Festival Phase Closes on a High Note

The Northwest String Summit, this past weekend, wrapped up the music festival portion of the "Free Wheelin Tour".  What a perfect ending to three fun-packed, uber-stimulating weekends.  I get a chance to reflect as we take a day to drive from Portland to (hopefully) Missoula.  Although not too far (500 some miles), it is pushing it for us in Mama.  Leaving  Portland, this morning, we were treated to stunning views of the Columbia River Gorge for the first few hours.  Beautiful cliffs, sparkling water and thousands of wind surfers was a nice complement with the morning coffee.  Now in eastern Washington, the views aren’t as scenic, but not ugly either.  A little warm for my taste. 

As anticipated in the last post, after leaving Eugene, we did meet up with friend of Kali’s living in Corvallis.  We spent a nice evening visiting with her and then were led on a nice trail run through the McDonald Forest, just outside of town, the next morning.  We then headed to a town just south of Portland to spend the evening with another friend and to position ourselves in close proximity to the Portland Airport, to pick up my brother, Dan, who would be joining us for the week.  When we arrived at our friend’s (a mutual friend we had worked with at Stanford Camp in the spring) we were surprised to find he lived in a VFW hall and worked as a caretaker and bartender.  So, we spent the night drinking with some vets before retiring to the van in parking lot.

Shortly after slipping into half-drunk sleep someone pounded on the van.  It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening.  When I shouted out asking what they wanted a police officer identified himself and asked us to get out of the vehicle.  In dramatic fashion I got out van making it very clear he had just woke me up.  I mention this whole scene because I find it very entertaining.  This has happened to us a few times.  First time on this tour, but it usually goes down the same way.  Although in the past the authorities showed up in the morning.  When I emerge from the van the tone of everything changes very quickly.  One second they are banging on the car like a hard-ass, then they see me and become very apologetic, even when we are clearly in the wrong.  Same scenario this time.  I don’t know what he was expecting to be inside, but when he saw two girls, he started to joke around and quickly went through the routine things (i.e. checking our identification and asking if we have weapons in the car).  After he established we weren’t wanted fugitives and that we had permission to be in parking lot, he was gone and we were quickly back to sleep.

The next morning we retrieved Dan from the airport and headed into Portland for his and my first visit to the highly-regarded big city.  We drove around for quite a while getting our bearings and trying to find our staple stores to load up for the festival.  After a nice lunch and shopping we drove in circles for a while before finding our direction and heading west out of the city to the town of North Plains,  home to Horning’s Hideout.

I have been hearing about Horning’s Hideout for quite a few years.  It is a private camping/fishing/disc golf spot.  It is awesome.  Lush, green rainforesty terrain.  Creeks and a lake.  Open grass fields.  Views into the adjacent valley.  A natural amphitheatre, shaded by huge old-growth trees with a beautiful stage built in the bowl.  It is the perfect place for a festival. 

 One of many peacocks that live at Horning's Hideout

The Northwest String Summit is a festival I’ve wanted to attend since I started listening to Yonder Mountain String Band six or seven years ago. They play a show each of the three nights and other bands play throughout the day.  It is very chill compared to the action-packed, multiple-stage events of the last two weeks.  Although there was plenty of music all day long I didn’t get the feeling I was missing something every time I sat down to chill at the campsite. 

We had our campsite dialed in for the third festival in three weeks.

This is my favorite festival I have been to…yet.  It was so perfect.  Three nights of my favorite band, pretty chill atmosphere (less costumes and sideshow freaks than the last two), and a beautiful setting for it all.  Luckily it was still crazy enough for Dan to get the full festival experience…dancing weirdoes, ripping music, and an all-night every night disco party next to our campsite. 

I can’t wait to attend any event or even just go to play disc golf at Horning’s Hideout again.  Definitely a special place.

Dan had one more day with us before heading home, so we headed out to the coast about 60 miles from the festival.  We enjoyed a lovely drive through the lush Coast Mountains and then camped at the beach for evening.  Although we weren't even there for a whole day, it was nice to get to see the rocky coast of northern Oregon.  We then returned to Portland to send Dan off.  It was so great he got to hang for a week.  So much laughing.  

 Dan and I on the beach.

Now what?  The festival madness is over for now, but the summer is just beginning.  We are enroute to Montana, where hopefully the snow has left the high country for its short window.  Aside from a wedding and some friends to visit, I don’t have any concrete plans in Montana.  I hope to get in as much trail running as possible.  I figure it is the best place with the super-long days.  I have no idea how long I will be here for.  I haven’t even been gone a year, but I am very excited to get back and am confident I will find adventure and some kind of crazy along the way.

It's Not a A Sprint...

This three week-long festival run cannot be called a marathon.  It is so much more than that.  The closing of the Oregon Country Fair yesterday marks the end of the second of three festivals Kali and I have tickets for.  Three festivals in three consecutive weekends.  

The High Sierra Music Festival is my Graceland, or Disneyland or Superbowl or church or whatever one gets super pumped to be apart of.  The festival takes place in the Plumas County Fairgrounds in Quincy, California.  Four days of outrageous amounts of music, partying and people watching.  It is completely over the top.  Non-stop, around the clock fun.  Many people find no reason to sleep during this four day festival. I used to be one of these people until I got over my FOMO (fear of missing out) disorder.  After my first outing to High Sierra it took me about three weeks to get back on a normal sleep schedule.  But this time around, High Sierra is only the first stop on the tour.  We need to pace ourselves.  And luckily we did.  Plus, there is no reason not to.  Although the late-night shows are always my favorite, there is endless options of things to do all day long.  Usually there was more than one band I wanted to see playing at the same time, yoga, hula-hooping, dancing, etc. workshops, wine and beer tasting, good food and the thousands of freaky people to stare at.  Over stimulation to the max.

Being my third trip to to High Sierra, I had a camping spot in mind prior to arriving.  Luckily, no one had taken my little perch:  a small, flat spot on a steep hill, in the shade, as far away as you could be from the madness in the super-jammed fairgrounds.  Although just a few steep yards from everything, the hill provided a nice barrier for much needed rest from all the excitement.  This time I even brought in some gardening gloves to level off the perch to add some space for cooking and sitting.  Its a pretty awesome spot and I would consider bringing in a small rake and shovel in the future to expand the flatness and make it really comfortable.

It is hard to describe the experience of High Sierra.  It is beyond words.  It is the land of make-believe.  Where reality is blurred and it is easy to loose grip on individuality. Where do I end and it begins?  The music permeates everything.  Unless you are standing directly in front of a stage when someone is performing you can usually hear multiple different shows going on and whatever sideshows have magically sprung up next to wherever you are hanging out  Everyone is dancing everywhere whether they are in front of a stage or waiting in line for the bathroom or moving from one show to the next.

Then there are the outfits.  Also beyond words.  There really is no theme or rhyme or reason for the outfits.  People just wear the weirdest things they can find.  We were noticing a few trends this year, however.  Sun umbrellas are big.  Is Oprah into those now?  Tons of umbrellas.  Also, tails.  ???   Lots of tails.  Circus attire and gypsy get-ups are popular.  Paint instead of clothes.  No clothes.  Anything goes.

All fun.  All day everyday.  We watched 3-7 shows a day.  Danced for four days straight.  By the end I could barely stand.  On Sunday hardly anyone can even clap and woo at the end of a song.  It is pretty hardcore.
We got worked, but not as bad as most.  We didn't make it to any of the 6:00AM kickball games, although we could hear them loud and clear each morning.  We slept reasonable hours each night and continued to eat good meals throughout the long weekend.  This was all necessary not only for making it through the three festivals, but also for the activities we have planned in between.

After four days of what I estimate to be equivalent to at least a marathon a day of dancing and prancing at High Sierra we decided that we needed a nice long run to stretch out our legs and get everything flowing again.  We very efficiently got all of our errands done in Quincy Monday morning and was on the road by early afternoon, Oregon bound.

We planned to stay up high in the mountains, but due to snow through Lassen National Park, had to drop down into the Sacremento Valley,  It felt like we had entered the gates of hell.  Luckily it was only for a few hours and we were cooled by the time were passing mystical Mt. Shasta.  We got to our destination, Ashland, Oregon early in the evening, got some food together and went to bed early.

The next day we started what we hope will an on-going event, known as marathon Tuesdays.  We ran/walked a marathon in the hills surrounding Ashland.  It was a loop on closed fire-roads starting and ending in town.  It is called the Lithia Loop, popular among mountain bikers, and home to a trail running race held in November. We had a great day.  It took us six hours.  The first six miles are up hill.  Followed by 13 flatish miles.  And ends with seven steep downhill miles.  A perfect course, if you ask me.  The final seven were so fun.  So fast.  I hope to do the race in November.

A break to filter water along the Lithia Loop

Post-run we cooled off in a creek.  It was a terribly hot day, but the trail was mostly shaded.  We then, somehow in our altered-state, managed to drive to Williams, Oregon about an hour away.  We both spent last fall in Williams and Kali spent time there this spring.  Friends there have a spectacular, off-the-grid spot, that I was ecstatic to get back to.  Awesome people and a beautiful spot.  The perfect place to recover from our marathon Tuesday.  We spent the night visiting with them and the next day relaxing and walking around their property.

We had planned on getting to Eugene early on Thurday, but couldn't resist an offer to float on the Rogue River for the day.  So, we did just that.  We joined a small group from Williams on one and two-person inflatable rafts for a nice relaxing float.  And beautiful.  The river cut through rock and wound through thick forest.   A great way to spend a hot day.

After getting off the river, it was onward to number two of three of the festivals.  Next stop:  The Oregon Country Fair.  I had first heard of this a few years ago, when I first came out this way to go to High Sierra.  People could never really describe it, but told me I would like it and that it was something everyone needed to check out at last once.

The Fair takes place in a rural town 15 miles outside of Eugene.  It is three days long.  You can go for a day or camp on private property turned campground just for the event.  We stayed at a campground just a short walk from the entrance to the Fair.

Enjoying the sunset from the front porch.

This too is hard to describe.  The Fair is kind of like a Renaissance Fair meets the circus meets Oregon.  The whole thing is in paths in a heavily wooded area.  There are merchants and food vendors interlaced with stages and open-performing areas.  Every sort of freak show imaginable can probably be found in the Fair.  Acrobats, jugglers, music, dancing, performance art is just the beginning.  I didn't even know what I was looking at some times.  Stuff going on everywhere.

Once again, costumes are huge.  And here, equally as huge is the lack of costumes.  Nakedness is popular.  But all the same kind of crazy as High Sierra.  Gypsies and circus freaks.

The Fair is more family friendly though.  There is no alcohol inside the event.  Which makes it much chiller.  The campgrounds were relativly chill as well.  We could have our car in the campground, so we have the luxury of living in our home, even at the fair.  Very chill, although very hot outside.  We invested in a shade tent, which saved us this weekend.  We even managed to get out for a run one morning and a bike ride the next morning before heading into the Fair.

We woke up this morning (Monday) pretty worked.  After breaking down camp we headed into Eugene and struggled to get our errands done.  So, we got a room at a hostel and decided to hang out and get stuff done tomorrow before heading to Corvallis to meet up with a friend of Kali's and possibly go for a ride or run on Wednesday.

Thursday we start it all over again.  The last leg of our mega-marathon festival tour.  Hopefully we'll still be standing by this time next week.