Perspectives Change

Last week I was slightly frustrated as the whole running community was focused on the 26.2 mile road event in Boston, while I was intent on finishing 31 undulating miles on the trails of the Metacomet Trail.

My comparison was going to be about the physical challenges and difficulties of the trail event vs. that of the marathon in Boston. I had even gone so far as to have posted a elevation profile comparison of the two events on my facebook page. (At some point, I will  return write a a race report about The Traprock 50k.)

Since the tragic events on Monday the focus has turned to the emotional strength that is required by the city of Boston and the entire running and marathon community.

There are so many writers who are so much better with words than I, that I don't know that I can express myself better than they already have.

Over the last week, I have read so many inspirational posts and articles from facebook pages and blogs to the multimedia pages from the major news outlets that bring tears to my eyes that I couldn't even begin to list them here...

If your reading this your probably already in-tune with the community and if your not, I've been re-posting some of the things I find especially moving on my Facebook page.

Either way, I need to express my gratitude to the running community.

We are a special in so many ways:

There is no group that can come together in the face of anguish and inspire each other and provide such inspiration.

This is the community that has raised more funds for research and social good than any other.

This is the community that has inspired individuals to achieve more than any of us had ever imagined possible.

We are runners and this community knows that we are all special and that we can accomplish great things.

We will not be intimidated by the negative or what others say is impossible!

You only make us stronger!

We overcome our fears and our anxieties on every run!

When we struggle, all we have to do is see the thumbs up from another runner on the road or on the trail and we're inspired once agin to push on.

The determination and fortitude of a runner is like none other!

Thinking that an act of terrorism can impact our lives is a futile!

We will create memorial events commemorating this cowardly act and individuals for years to come will run with inspiration.

Thanks for the motivation...

We are runners!!!

PS
When I cross the finish line this weekend, my hand will be over my heart #handsoverhearts in tribute to the city of Boston.

And you can bet I wont be the only one.

My Impostor Syndrome

I don't consider myself an imposter on the level of  Frank Abagnale played by Leonardo DiCaprio in the movie Catch Me if You Can, but I do often find myself wondering just exactly who I really am when it comes to my running personality.

This weekend I ran a 19.5 mile self-supported, training run which consisted of thirty degree temperatures, hard-frozen fire roads, muddy wet-lands and 2 inch ice/snow encrusted single-track trails. And yet I find myself questioning my abilities as a runner.

 I'll beat myself up over all kinds of things...

The run wasn't really 19.5 miles was it? No, my Garmin actually read 19.47 when I finished.

Seriously?...

So you couldn't just run around the parking lot one time to make it an even 19.5?

Or better yet... why not run back down the path a bit to even it up to an even 20 miles? Doesn't a 20 mile run sound a whole lot better?

Sure it does.

As I drove away from the trail-head with my feet throbbing and my body aching from the 4 hour effort, I think to myself that my eventual goal; of completing a 50 miler is 30 miles more than what I just did.

I feel like a moth drawn to the 50 mile flame.

How is it possible to run another 30 miles? Is it possible that I'm really just masquerading in these muddy trail shoes?

I often wonder if  I just like the idea of being an ultra runner and that I desire being a part of a community I don't really have the ability or credentials to justify?

My runs are typically longer (and have more elevation gain) than most people I know could ever complete. And yet, I still find myself wrapped in a cloak of doubt and uncertainty.

I don't worry about the typical things like pace or finishing times that I know torment most road runners because I no longer consider speed the challenge. I just want to run far.

I've turned my focus to trail running just over a year ago and I've since completed two 50k ultras and I'm training for my third. And yet... my mind processes and distorts this information just enough to translate it back to me; that a 50k is the shortest of all the ultra distances and until I run longer than a 50k I wont be a real ultra runner.

Until recently, I've kept the thoughts to myself and have always thought this was just my own running neurosis or idiosyncratic behavior. Over Sunday brunch I was describing some of the details of the 19.5 mile run to my wife and I told her how I often felt like an imposter, particularly after I finish a long training run.

She told me about a colleague who once told her about psychological phenomenon called The Imposter Syndrome, or Fraud Syndrome, where people feel their success or accomplishments have been due to luck  and not the result of their own ability and competence.

I found it fascinating (and somewhat reassuring) that the syndrome exists and others share the distorted perception of their hard work and accomplishments. I'm just grateful that it's not something more debilitating and maybe running is the perfect therapy.

So maybe there's Ultra Runner with an upper-case and ultra runner in lower-case, and maybe I'm just an ultra runner in the lower-case (for now).

Ah, Screw It!

Over the last few weeks I put a pretty good hurt on my Yaktrax.

They've stood up for a few years on the packed snow trails, but since I've taken to running the mountains (when I can), the coiled metal has gotten pretty bent out of shape.

Amazingly the rubber hasn't broken considering the abuse, but they have become pretty misshaped and I'll need to trust them not to fail on an icy mountain top.

A few years ago when I mostly ran paved bike paths I had something similar to Yaktrax that fit over my shoe, but these had machine screws and as I recall they worked like a charm on the glare ice on the local, paved bike path.

I decided I would make my own but these would be permanent. 

I have a pair of Saucony ProGrid Razors that are still in really good shape and stricktly worn during foul-weather, so I thought it would be fine to "screw-up" these shoes. 
 
I used #8 3/8 inch Sheet Metal Screws

I purposely left the center of the shoes without any screws, the tread is still in tact and the outside has some obvious screw locations.

I used Hex-head screws – they “bite” the ice much better than screws with a smooth or a curved head.

Screw Shoes work just fine on roads. It may wear the screw heads out a little faster but the screws are cheap enough not to worry about it.

It's not original idea but it's a trick that has served me surprisingly well on some very icy situations. You won't even know you have them on.

Prepping for Traprock

Last year, just before The North Face Endurance Challenge at Bear Mountain I was struck down by an injury in the final weekend of training.

This year I registered in early October determined to make my comeback to the course that I can say is in my own backyard.

I had begun my training in late January, early February and started building miles when a haunting thought was beginning to get caught in the web of thoughts. "Why does the weekend of May 4th and 5th sound so familiar?

I knew there had to be something so I thumbed through scrawled notes on our calendar and found nothing.Then it struck me, my wife and her brother had just started planning for their parents 50th wedding anniversary.

Yup, you guessed it... Same weekend. 

How can this be? There's nothing on the calendar and I've been registered since October.

My hear sank and my mind raced through a variety of unpleasant emotions. I didn't know what to think, but I knew that (once again) I would not be able to run The North Face Endurance Challenge at Bear Mountain.

I spoke to my wife and she understood how deeply frustrating it was for me and she said what I was hoping she would "Well, isn't there another one you could do?".

Green light! 

Since I've become interested in Ultras I had been scoping out events that I might be interested in doing. One of which is Connecticut's  Traprock 50k.

Traprock is a particularly intriguing event for me because it's in Penwood State Park located on Talcott Mountain overlooking Simsbury, a small Connecticut town where I grew up and my parents still live in the area.

Within a matter of hours I had double checked calendar dates, read blog postings about runners experiences and had completed my registration for Traprock 50k.

I'm in!

Traprock is just about a month away now and 3 weeks earlier than the Bear Mountain race.

Training is going well despite setbacks from some heavy, late-winter, snowfall that just happened to fall on scheduled weekend long-runs.

I'm anxious but I think it's a healthy anxiety, after all if you don't feel some excitement about an event, is it really worth doing?

In my web search for "Traprock 50k" I found some pretty cool posters from previous years. I'll be posting these in the office and above the treadmill as motivators.

The Run That Was Not At All What It Should Have Been

A few inches of fresh snow fell late on the Friday night of President's Day weekend. I thought it a the perfect opportunity to get out on the trails with my dog and best running partner; Milo.

3" of snow on the red trail

I decided we would run on Schunnemunk, our local mountain.
The run started from the trail-head with a somewhat intense but short climb (on the red trail) that then proceeds to undulate for about two miles before the real climbing begins.

Snow clouds leaving the valley

We ran through a fresh three inches of snow as the trail parallels the tracks of the Port Jervis train line. I was careful to watch Milo to make sure he didn't venture off to the tracks. The trains are not frequent on weekends but they do pose a threat on snowy days when their approach is muffled under the fresh snow.

Milo and I enjoyed being the first to lay new footprints along the trail. We  crossed over Baby Brook and the intersection of the Hudson Highlands and Jessup trail. Continuing to follow the red blazes past the next intersection with the white trail we continued on to the end of the red trail and onto the black trail.

Climbing the white trail

The black trail climbs the relentless eastern side of Schunnemunk mountain. Within minutes I was reduced to a power walk as my heart raced and my legs ached, I resisted the desire to take a break.

We continued with our forward progress and before too long the fresh three inches turned into 5 inches of snow still clinging to the trees and shrubs.

The snow deepens

The trail was clearly defined as the new snowfall laid out a virgin path as it parted the underbrush with it's white purity.

We  ran when we could and power-hiked through the more intense inclines and rocky scrambles.The landscape lost it's color and the surroundings turned to a black and white movie as we navigated the high-contrast landscape of snow and dormant trees.

Approaching one of the steeper inclines I paused for a moment to put on my Yak-Trax. I reviewed my map and gave Milo a handful of treats before we continued the final climb..

More snow

We scrambled our way up a sketchy portion and admired the beauty of the snowy blanket covering the highlands.

The trail, was now barely recognizable, and the snow was now at an estimated at eight inches.

Purely by memory from previous hikes/runs, we followed the now invisible path. We meandered briefly along the overlook before wandering into the scrub pines dotting the white landscape.

Snowy Hudson Valley Vista

Following the trail was difficult, I lost the markers frequently as the blazes were hidden under the snow. Being somewhat familiar with where I was I sensed  the direction to take as I scanned the landscape for the blazes to follow.

At a snowy boulder I took a moment to check my map before climbing onto the icy crag. Watching my footing I realized I was already at the intersection of the Highland/Jessup Trails (Aqua/Yellow).

Milo and I turned north and proceed through the fresh snow following the Aqua/Yellow markings.

The landscape was white and the contours were lost.

Jessup/Highland Trail Junction

I followed the breaks in the pines and shrubbery and paused frequently in search of the trail blazes often hidden under the snowy umbrella of the pitch pines.

We slowly made our way along the conglomerate ridge until I realized Milo was nowhere to be found.

Milo and snowy pitch pine

I called and I couldn't see or hear him... I back tracked a little and found his tracks where he left the trail. I followed them for a few yards before I realized I the drifts were eight inches or more and the rugged underbrush was not going to let me pass.

As well prepared as I was for a run in the lower levels of the mountain, I wasn't dressed to stand in the deep snow or stand still in gusting winds for long.

Hidden Trail

I called out repeatedly and and listened for any sign of Milo. I got out of the deep snow and stood on a wind swept rock trying to keep my feet from getting any colder (or wetter) than necessary. But as I stood on the rock I was exposed to the winds and I could feel the warmth generated from the previous climb quickly escaping my body.

"Milo! Milo! C'mon buddy..." I called and called for what seamed like fifteen minutes before I started to panic. I knew I had to get moving in order to protect myself from the elements. The wind was whipping and my core temperature was dropping but I couldn't rationalize leaving my dog on the mountain  top.

Like another world

I used my phone to call my wife. I needed another voice to share in my decision to move along. I couldn't justify the decision (by myself) to leave Milo. I had to share the decision because I didn't want to be the guy who left his dog on the top of the mountain.

My wife agreed, she could hear the panic in my voice and said what I already knew... that I should work my way off the top of the mountain and hopefully Milo would catch up.

Poor navigation and footing

But just before I hung up I started to move through the deep snow and eyed the route as it wrapped along the ridgeline, when through the barren brush my eye noticed a color that was familiar.

It was Milo's orange vest! He was on the trail about twenty-five yards away. He stood motionless as I approached. He was panting heavily and his tongue hung from his mouth as I approached him.

It was clear that he was exhausted... I checked him for injury and fortunately found none. I pulled out a handful of dog treats and fed him to restore some of his caloric-energy.

A couple more downhill miles

I suspected he was on the chase. He had probably found a tired deer and given him a chase for a mile or two across the top of the ridge, but I'll never know for sure.

Anxious to warm myself and get off the wind-swept mountain I hurried him down the path. Our progress was slow as we trudged through the deep snow. We circled more than once looking for the trail obscured by the snowfall.

On track again, Milo followed behind, which he normally does when he's tired and hungry. We carefully made our way across the backbone and began our descent.

I cautiously made my way through the steep rocky portions and glided over the more gentle descents. We opted for the shorter route which we're more familiar with than taking the planned route which would take us up another scramble before descending to the parked car.

View before the final descent

Still shaken I was grateful to reach a long downhill that brought us off the mountain and back to the red trail.

We backtracked out way across the eastern side of Schunnemunk and eventually made our way back to the car.

Exhausted I hugged my dog, happy we were done (mentally and physically) we got into the car, put on the heater and headed for the warm comfort of home.



Distance: 7.4 Miles
Time: 3:30:47
Elevation Gain: 1,704 ft

Elevation Profile

The Route

In the High Country - a running film featuring Anton Krupicka supported by Ultimate Direction

   

Anton is so inspirational

I am a Winter Warrior

What off-season trail runner can't relate to this one?

"Only Way I Know"

The first time I heard this song on the radio I couldn't help thinking of it as a great motivational song for distance running... complete with dirt and trail references.


Jason Aldean - The Only Way I Know (Feat. Luke Bryan & Eric Church)