Grueling Greenwood, Blazing Beidleheimer, 3DATF, and Some Much Needed PT.

I don't really have any good photos to lead this entry off with...so here's a picture I took while trail running along the Mediterranean coast of France last September.   *sigh*.....

As to the rather prolix title of this post, well there's been several new things that have kept me occupied since my last entry.  Last weekend I took part in what was the 2nd annual Greenwood Furnace Trail Challenge.  This race is an approximate half-marathon mostly on some fairly technical trails located within Rothrock State Forest.  I think of it as sort of a little brother to the Rothrock 30k Race.  The big difference is that the climbs on the Greenwood course are actually longer and feature two ascents that have more gain than any single climb on the Rothrock course.  Needless to say, the course is feisty and has only about a mile and a half of actual "level" running.  To give you an example, I'll post the map and elevation profile below.  The y-axis is in meters, and I have no clue what the x-axis is in...I think GPS points or something.  But it equals about 13.2 miles.  One of the things that drew me to this race was that I had actually done these climbs as part of my Barkley training and I knew how tough there were.  The Greenwood Spur section of the Mid-State trial up to the fire tower has the most elevation gain of any single climb in Rothrock (on trail).  To make it worse (or better), the entire course is littered with nasty rocks of all sizes.  Gotta love those PA sandstones.

The first climb is about 1300 feet, and the 2nd almost 1500 feet.

The only "flat" part is the 1.5 miles between climbs

The figure-8 course

My goal for the race was to simply push myself comfortably hard, but to still make sure I was enjoying the absolutely perfect trails.  The weather forecast was for mid-50's and a clear blue sky.  I was thrilled.  I ran fairly strong all day and finished well-winded, but not exhausted with a more-than-satisfying time of about 2hrs 9mins.  (See results here: GTC Results).  The race director(s) put on a fantastic event and the post-run shindig was great!  Lot's of practical and usable swag too.

On to today:

This morning I participated in my third running of Tussey Teaser #3, a.k.a, The Beidleheimer Sidewinder 10K.  Of all the teasers, this is the only one that is recorded as an "official" and certified race (and includes awards).  What makes the results interesting though, is that they are age/gender - weighted based on the WAVA/WMA rules.  This method uses a bunch of equations to re-calculate your time based on your "handicap".  For a middle-aged man like myself, I don't usually get any sort of boost.  If I were 45 years old, my time would be lowered.  The theory behind this is that it puts all runners, regardless of age or gender, on an equal scale.  I always end up doing pretty well at this race (top 10), but after the adjustments, I always get pushed down several slots by runners who finished just after me but who've had their times adjusted.  This year was no different...BUT, with one added and unexpected surprise!

The course is usually pretty fast as it is entirely on fire roads, and features a fair amount of downhill.  This can be deceiving though as there is still almost 500 feet of ascent...made up entirely by short, but steep climbs.  In 2011, I finished this race in 40:32.  8th place overall, but 13th place after it was re-adjusted.  This was the closest I've ever come to the mythical 40 minute 10K barrier.  It was just a few weeks ago now that I posted about how after almost 6 years of solid running, I was finally able to break the 20 minute barrier at a local 5K when I crossed the line in 19:58 at the Jeremy Herbstritt Memorial Race.

Today as I came charging down the final forest road hill with about a mile left to the finish, I could feel the runner behind me breathing down my neck.  I decided to give whatever little juice I had left to making sure I crossed that finish line ahead of him.  When I rounded the last turn and saw the finish line a ways up, I looked at my watch and it read 39:30.   I sprinted as hard as a I could for the last few tenths and crossed the line in 39:59.  Seriously...39:59.  Ridiculous... but I'll take it!  I had finished in 3rd place overall as well, but after the WMA re-adjustments, I was bumped down to 7th.  Whatever, I'm just thrilled to have had a pain-free, fast, and fun race that ended in a sub-40 time.

RESULTS: Tussey Teaser #3

The course

Elevation Profile

Moving on.

So 3DATF?  3 Days at the Fair.  On Wednesday evening I head over to New Jersey for a few days to run in circles :-)  It sounds ridiculous, but I'm actually kind of excited to try something entirely different.  I have some good audio books to keep me entertained, there will be almost 100 people running, and I've heard that the aid station food is ridiculous!  Plus, it means I get to camp...which is always fun.  Not sure I'll last through Sunday, but I plan to have fun regardless.  I might try and post updates from the race maybe.  Haven't figured out how I would do that just yet though.

Lastly...the PT.  Physical Therapy.

I finally decided to get checked out specifically for my heel and knee.  I've been dealing with come-and-go heel pain since last May and despite my best efforts with ice, rest, advil, stretching, or footwear, have not been able to snuff it out entirely.  I had been putting this off, but last week when I noticed the outside of my knee starting to get a little sore again too, I made the appointments.  X-rays came back fine and were all negative for any kind of fractures or spurs.  With the help of the docs, we were able to identify the exact nucleus of my pain with regards to my heel...and yep, it is in fact a very specific and acute PF.  Thankfully it never gets any worse, but also never has really gotten a lot better.  We also talked at length about the history with my knee and my overall health and running history.   In the end, they directed me to a a Physical Therapist that video-recorded my running for analysis, and has me doing very specific forms of stretching, exercises, and icing that I hadn't done.  Turns out I was doing a lot of incorrect things, and stretches that could have actually been exacerbating my problem.  To my surprise, he told me that due to all of my running over the years, my connective tissue has actually become overly tight...meaning it needs to be stretched a lot.  He actually instructed me NOT to take off from running as the running it self helps to keep it stretched out.  This would certainly explain why after every race, my heel pain goes away for days...only to return once I've gone back to easy runs.  At any rate, it feels good to be proactively working out my kinks, and with the help of a real professional.  One of the things I like about this guy, is that he is also a long-distance runner and basically corroborated what I've thought to be true for a long time now:  That most of the trends, fancy shoes, and new running techniques....are pretty much just gimmicks.  Having run solidly now for over 5 years, my body has learned how to be most efficient.  Putting something in my shoes, or changing my shoes drastically, or trying to change my gait, etc....will only serve to "mess with a good thing".   

So if it's such a good thing, then what's with the PF and knee pain?  Well, the quick answer is that I HAVE been messing with a good thing.  Since 2011, my running has changed slightly with regards to my right foot and leg.  Gradually over the 2 years, unbeknownst to me, I have very slowly changed the way I plant and push off of my right foot...which is likely the root cause of all of my problems (which are all on my right leg).  Why did I do this?  Simple.....In June of 2011 I bashed my big toe during the Rothrock 30k and likely haven't been planting my foot correctly since (so as not to hit that "twinge spot" as I like to call it).  I gradually, and subconsciously, have adjusted my running so that I avoid pushing off of the arthritic spot on my right foot.  The problem is that there really is no great way to fix it other than to try to slowly bring back more mobility and flexibility to my big toe.  While my heel was clean, there IS a very small spur on that toe joint that has formed as well which can't be removed without surgery (which the Doc doesn't think is necessary).  So for now...we're going to continue with the running, continue with the stretching, rolling, exercises, and icing (which has already made my knee pain go away completely, and my heel feel much better), and see how it goes.  If I can find a way to run efficiently with only some occasional toe pain to deal with (and not these secondary issues), it might just be something I have to live with.

That's it for now.

enjoy the trails everyone and hike on,

-j

A Foray Into "Timed" Events

I've spoken in recent posts about how over the past few years, I've found much enjoyment from time spent on trails.  Hiking (specifically thru-hiking) has been the primary catalyst for this relationship, but trail running has also helped to keep that passion kindled.  

So how do I explain the occasional oddity like Badwater.  Why would someone like me, so attracted to the great outdoors and the trails, have any interest in running something like Badwater, or even Vol State for that matter?  Both of which are pavement pounding road races.  Certainly the geology and grandeur of Death Valley were partly to blame for my desire to participate in Badwater, but there is also something else fundamental to my crazy endeavors... something that many ultrarunners and adventurers alike often refer to:  An intrinsic curiosity for new challenges.  

In addition to an obvious love of the trails, I think there is this aforementioned fundamental notion at the root of ALL of my adventures.  This notion, and it is ridiculously cliche', that I am absolutely curious to challenge myself in new ways.  I think of it like this.  I will always love the outdoors and hiking along those beautiful single-track trails, but I also like to simply experience different types of challenges.  Nothing should ever feel monotonous, so why not mix things up?  I suppose partly for the fun of it, partly to see if I might find a hidden passion for it, partly to see what my body and mind are capable of, and partly...well....because I can.

So where's this going....

Many of my ultrarunning friends and acquaintances have run "timed" ultras.  Quite simply, for those of you that don't know, a "timed ultra" is simply a race that has a fixed time, instead of a fixed distance.  Usually the goal of such a race is to see how far you can go over a specific time limit.  A race will be say, 24 hours, and you run as far as you can in those 24 hours.  Almost always, this type of race contains small, relatively flat loops that you repeat.   I have never, in my 5 years of ultrarunning, had a desire to run such an event.  The thought of repeating a small loop over and over and over for 24+ hours had no appeal to me, and frankly, I thought it never would.

Three days ago, I was looking for something to run mid-May, somewhat close by.  I stumbled across the "3 days at the Fair" race in New Jersey.   This race takes place over three days, offering several different timed events, all taking place on a 1 MILE LOOP.  Yes you read that correctly, it's a 1-mile loop repeated ad nauseam (often literally).  WHY ON EARTH would someone like me even consider such an event?  Well, simply, because it's the exact type of event I would NEVER consider.  I'm curious about the type of people that I'll meet there, I'm curious as to how I'll mentally keep myself together after potentially hundreds of repeated loops, and I'm curious what I'm capable of.   I'm curious...and I've never run something like this before.

So I signed up.  I have no idea what to expect, how long I'll last, how many miles I'll go, or if I'll enjoy it at all...but I want to at least try it.

Rediscovering the Trails at Hyner View

Topping out on the 1400' climb at mile 4

(Photo B. Miller)

To say that I've been struggling lately with my running, would probably be a bit of an understatement.  There are various reasons I have not been able to find the drive, nor the passion, to get out on the trails (nevermind the roads).  Over the past few weeks, I have managed to squeeze in a few runs here and there, but most of them felt "empty".  Last weekend I did have one magnificent run along a new trail in the woods, and it helped me to remember what it is that pulls me to the outdoors.  I guess it seems apropos that I'm now writing this note on the birthday of who is to me, probably the most inspirational naturalist: John Muir.  Moving on,

I realized last weekend that I have become so wrapped up in the routine and the numbers, that I forgot why I had been first drawn to running.  This is part of the reason for my recent apathy.  There was a time when a trail run or even a trail race, much like my past thru-hikes, was about weaving along the serpentine path, with the fresh smell of soil in the air; being able to tune in on the specific bird calls, and then perhaps trade a story with a fellow runner or hiker.  I remember vividly during my first ultra (2008 Vermont 50), telling a fellow runner that all I wanted to do was finish and enjoy the beautiful trails as much as possible.  At some point since that day, my motivation has changed, my priorities have shifted, and my passion has been suffocated.  

This past Saturday I had a race on my schedule that I had signed up for months prior: The Hyner View Trail 50k.  Last year I ran this same race, and it was a rather miserable experience.  I ran too hard, without giving myself enough rest the weeks before, and I was too worried about my time/place.  I had basically declared after that race that I would likely never run the 50k distance again, and instead stick to the more easy-paced longer ultras.  Earlier last week, when I thought ahead to the upcoming race, I really had no desire at all to do it.  I had sort of come to the realization that I would just not show up.

But then I decided I would not let apathy get the better of me.  I made the decision to start the event, but only if I ran it under some new terms.  I told myself that if I were to run, that it would be me....and the trail.  No matter what would happen and when, I would completely turn off the "compete" switch.  I would still talk to and encourage other runners, but I would not allow myself to be compelled to "catch" someone in front of me, or "not let" someone behind me catch me.  I wanted to truly enjoy an awesome 50k trail...while also running.  In my mind it would almost be more of a 50k thru-hike, but with running.  And that's ALL.  I decided to wear my heart-rate monitor to make sure I didn't run too hard as well, and my only mental goal was to allow myself to have as much fun as possible.  I miss having fun on the trails; I truly miss it.  If I felt like scrambling up the rocks, I would.  If I felt like running fast down a down-hill section, I would.  And if I felt like stopping to enjoy a view, well, I would.  I paid 50 bucks to run this event, I was going to enjoy myself dammit.

So when I lined up with 100+ eager runners on Saturday morning, I simply closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths, and tuned it all out.  I was there to play in the woods, climb some steep hills, and NOT watch the time.

When the horn sounded, I ran.  I passed some people, a slew of people passed me and eventually I found a really nice pocket with a decent gap in front and behind me.  I ran a nice comfortable pace and absolutely loved the light-footed dance along the first couple of miles of hill-side single-track.  After a couple of miles, I looked up at the ominous 1400+ foot climb in front of me that leads up to Hyner View, and just smiled.  Climbing it was a complete blast and I never once checked my watch.  At the top I stopped to admire the incredible view, take a few well-earned breaths, and then begin the fun switchback-filled descent down to Rieckert Hollow.  Already by this point I found myself almost completely alone.  There were a couple of runners in view up ahead of me a ways, but no one behind me.  As far as I was concerned, this was perfect.  I was out there alone, for a weekend long-run in the woods.

Elevation Profile of 25k (50k leaves this course at mile 7, does an 

additional 14-mile loop, and then returns back at mile 7)

This theme continued for the entire day.  I made my way up and down climbs, in and out of aid stations, and through open fields and dense woods, almost entirely by myself.  It was magnificent.  Miles ticked by and I didn't care.  I popped a gel every once in a while, thoroughly stopped to enjoy some really good aid station food, and just kept a nice smooth pace all day.  I never really felt like walking much, except for on the steep uphills, so I ran.  I made sure to chat with the wonderful volunteers at each aid station, and to thank them for all that they did.  At the ~21-mile aid station, a volunteer asked me, "how you doing?", my response as I started to leave the station was something like, "I can't remember the last time I had this much fun!".  To which both volunteers offered me some hardy and prolific hoots and hollers as I disappeared down the hillside.  A few times the temps dropped into the high 30's and it even snowed lightly on occasion, but for the most part I was very comfortable.  I never cramped, never worried about salt intake or water, I just kept it simple.  My feet held up ok, and my knee never got angry.  I really did feel like that 8-year old kid thrashing around on the trails in the woods behind my house during summer break.  

As I neared the end of the race, I was quite content.  I could have kept going, but I was quite fine to stop too.  When I eventually popped out of the woods at mile 30 and began the last mile along the paved road to the finish, I finally switched my watch so that it would display overall time.  I just smiled and laughed at the realization that I had just had that much fun, and still managed to come in to the finish 20 minutes faster than last year.  The best part was that I was still having a great time, still smiling, and was completely and utterly satisfied with my day on the trails.  That passion had come back, and I was steeped in it.

When I crossed the line, I never stopped my watch, and didn't even register the time on the clock.  I figured it was ~about 5:45 or so.  The only thing on my mind was to sit down and enjoy some post-run food, drink and stories.  When I bumped into a few friends of mine eating their well-deserved post-race food, I asked them of their experience.  Both had done very well.  When they asked me how I did, my response was, "I had a blast!".  They answered with, "Well, yeah, but what was your time?  What place did you finish?"  To which I replied, "Hmmm...I don't know...but man did I have fun out there."  The post race food was fantastic and I eventually made my way home, without ever actually checking my time or place.

By that evening the results were posted and I did crack a smile and laugh a bit at my own result.  I am so glad that I decided not to let apathy get the better of me. My experience this weekend, while it maybe didn't "cure" me of my running-funk, it certainly re-awakened me if not for a little while.

Mile ~29 (Photo B. Miller)

As far as a few other quick notes:

I was testing out a new shoe at Hyner.  I have been continuing to fight some acute heel pain, and decided to give the La Sportiva Helios a try based on a recommendation from a fellow Barkley Runner.  I've never run in Sportiva's before so I had nothing to go on.  If anything I really liked the look of the Helios if even just to wear as "everyday" or "kick-around" shoes.  I'm a sucker for orange/grey.  The Helios, while lightweight, are not "minimal", which is good for me.  Minimal, is I definitely something I did NOT want.  The minimal movement works for some people, just as the "zero-drop" movement works for others.  For me, I still like a nice classic running shoe, with average drop, and adequate cushioning.  My 2 cents on this shoe would be, well, that I just really enjoyed running in them.  The were comfortable, had ample cushioning and protection, and my feet NEVER hurt in them.  Today, my heel feels fine too. I'm not entirely sure that the Helios are designed for as technical a race as Hyner (very rocky), but for standard trail and even pavement, I think they'd be great.  For really technical, Sportiva would probably recommend their Ultra-Raptor or something, but I don't know for sure.  One of my favorite aspects of the shoe, was that the grip was remarkable.  I don't know what kind of rubber they use on the soles, but I never once slipped, and I ran on some pretty steep, gnarly, muddy, slick stuff.  Definitely recommended, but I did have to go 1/2 size up (they run small).  As far as downside?....Well, I think it would just be that being light, they aren't as robust as a heavy/hearty trail shoe.  Meaning, they probably won't last 500 miles...and they are a bit expensive.

La Sportiva Helios

Also, 
Today I decided to dust of the kayak for the year and had some fun paddling up at Black Moshannon again.  I managed to navigate my way along the narrow and serpentine creeklet that feeds into the lake all the way up to the Moshe-Hanne foot bridge.  It was quite a fun experience hopping my boat over and around the various beaver dams and lodges.

Running out of room near the foot bridge (just up ahead)

Beaver Lodge

Lastly,
On Tuesday last week, there was a local 5k held in honor of a student (Jeremy) who lost his life in 2007 during the shooting at Virginia Tech.  This 5k has been held annually for the past few years.  This year, the 5k was especially poignant, as it was held the day after the Boston Marathon.  Several runners from the local running group here (myself included) came out for the event, and a few folks who were AT the Boston Marathon the night before even ran.  At the end of the race, there was a candle-light vigil held in honor of Jeremy, the victims of Newtown, and the victims from Boston the night before.  Here is a link to the Local Paper Coverage.

I decided for the race, that I was going to run as hard as I could.  I guess to run for all those that couldn't.  I've never been particularly good at the very short distances, but I told myself I was going to run hard for all 3.1 miles regardless.  When I crossed the finish line completely out-of-breath I looked over at the clock and smiled.  I had always told myself that even though I almost never race 5k's anymore, just once in my life, I would have liked to have broken 20 minutes......

Jeremy Herbstritt Memorial 5k Results

I also wanted to acknowledge and say thanks to all of the organizers and kind volunteers at Hyner.  The event has probably the best post-race party and food I've ever experienced at a race.  Also, I tip my hat to all of the extremely kind and gracious 25k'ers that without question, and usually with a lot of encouragement, allowed me to pass by them in the later stages of the race.  I am humbled by the good-spirited nature of all those that participate in this race.  It's because of this, that I'll likely return next year.  (Well...that and the kick-ass post-race food too of course!)

so that's it, and like I said in the last post,
Please, take that goat-path once in a while, and don't lose sight of what it truly is that feeds the passion within you,

-j

Run The Goat-Path

For those of you popping in on here hoping to see a long and detailed race report from my most recent running at the Barkley Marathons, I'm sorry I will have to disappoint.  I have decided that the memories and full experience from this year will remain with me, and me alone.  I will say these two things:  First, despite last year's incredible success, this was the year that I truly came to understand important things about who I am, and what is it that inspires me.  Second, being able to witness (and crew) my friend Travis on his incredible finish was certainly the most poignant and profound ultrarunning experience I've ever had.

Today I went for my first run in week.  I had no watch on, no idea of how far I'd go, and honestly had no desire to leave my apartment at all.  It was a struggle to even put on the running shoes.  I headed out on a familiar trail, reluctantly, and at an incredibly slow pace.  After a few miles, I found myself on a oft-traveled out-n-back trail under the assumption that I would just "do the usual".  But then something happened.  Randomly while on the return leg, I was overcome by a sudden desire to pop off of the path and head down a small "goat-path" (likely a deer-trail) that breaks off to the left.  I had seen this little trail probably hundreds of times and had always wondered where it went...but never took it.  I was always in the middle of a fixed length out-n-back, so why would I, right? (At least that's always been my logic I guess). But not today.  Today I took it.

It weaved through the woods for a while and I had no real feeling for which direction it was leading me.  Gradually, after a small climb the trail became smaller and smaller until after about a mile, it simply petered-out and I found myself just standing in the woods....alone.  I rightly laughed-out-loud to myself at this seemingly fitting scenario, but then looked up and saw the perfectly clear blue sky through early spring trees.  There was no wind, and the woods were incredibly quiet.  I wasn't really that far from people, and in fact was probably only a mile or so from the edge of a golf course, but in my little microcosm of forest, I was a million miles from anywhere...and utterly alone.  I stood there for a very long time just breathing in the air and taking in the silence around me.  It felt good.  I looked down at the dirt and leaf-litter beneath me and I felt at-home.  I thought back to words I wrote down after my PCT hike describing why it was that I "needed" that hike.  I had said that "I was out of alignment, and needed to go someplace that would feel right, would feel like home, and would bring me back into that alignment".  Since the days of thrashing through the woods as a 6-year old with my dad, to my long and expansive thru-hikes, to the 50- and 100-milers on the weekends....it is, and has always been, the trails and the woods that feed the passion of my spirit.

Each and every one of us has something that we cherish, that feeds our soul.  Maybe it's reading, or traveling, or running, or skiing, or hiking.  And many of us may come to a day where we realize we have lost sight of the passion behind that something.  Perhaps we still do this activity, or we still participate...but it has become rote and mechanical.  That passion that we once thrived on, has been clouded over by a facade of the unimportant or perhaps just the things which we falsely believe to be equally as important.

It was in the woods today, standing there at the end of the goat-path that I realized this.  At some point over the course of the last year I had lost sight of why I seek the trails.  My motivation had shifted entirely to that of a numbers game.  How many miles could I run in a week, how much elevation gain, how to train for that next race, or how much time could I shave off of that PR?  In no way do I mean to downplay the thrill or the exhilaration that can be found in competition, I myself often thrive on it, but for me, it has never been the true drive behind my love of the trails.  Deeper within me the true reason had become so buried and clouded-over that my days on the trails have become almost chore-like.  Methodically recording my mileages on digital logging websites.  Noting my elevation gains, keeping spreadsheets, and compiling those ever so important time/splits sheets.  

Again, I ask myself....When was it that I lost sight of it?

I have often pondered the idea of completing my triple crown and finally doing a CDT thru-hike, and often the first thoughts in my mind are of planning guides, mileages tables, and daily averages.  Today standing in the woods, was the first time that I thought of a CDT hike and the very first image in my mind was that of standing on some ridgeline somewhere along Wyoming's Wind River Range and admiring a perfect sunset.  So perfect in fact, that it's the kind that makes you realize how small you really are, and how big and magnificent the world can be.  The kind that can bring you to tears...and to your knees.  

That is the feeling that has drawn me to the trails and to the woods.  

And I had forgotten it.

But today, today I remembered it.

And I will go out now seeking the trails for the reasons I should have been all along; the reasons that drive and feed that passion within me; the reasons I had forgotten.  I will remind myself every day that it has never been about the numbers, or the miles...but about the awe that is awakened within me every time I set foot in the woods.

So please, take that goat-path once in a while, and don't lose sight of what it truly is that feeds the passion within you.

-j

Quenching The Springer Fever Thirst

70 Miles of Mid-State Trail....fun?

Well the time has come again for that "urge".  The overpowering urge to get outside, find a long trail as quickly as possible, abandon all reason, and get to some walkin'!  You fellow thru-hikers out there know what I'm talking about.   Spinger Fever is here (of course named after the AT's Springer Mountain).  Despite the obvious lack of "Spring" here yet in the Mid-Atlantic (I shake my angry grandpa fist at YOU Punxsutawny Phil!), that feeling has still come upon me...especially in light of the hours I've been spending staring at and processing ice-core sample images.  I have been in need of a good walkin' as of late, and just haven't gotten around to it yet.  Sure I've squeezed in my runs, and even some adventures like playing around on gas-lines, but the hiking has been non-existent.

Late last year I started toying with the idea of attempting an FKT somewhere.  I had a short period of time where I considered a record attempt on the Mid-State Trail, but when I realized that it was hunting season (which not only would be scary here in PA, but required reroutes from the actual trail), I lost interest.  In addition, my body was flippin' tired and I needed a break.  Needless to say, I still would really like to attempt an FKT this year.  Not sure where, or when, but this past weekend I decided it was again time to test out my FKT legs and satiate that Springer Fever all in one go by replaying my MST blitz from last Spring.  For those few of you that actually read this here journal, you may recall that last year as part of a training regimen, I decided to hike ~70 miles non-stop along the MST.  This was to "train" for sleep-deprivation, and compass navigation.  I purposely night-loaded the hike...meaning I set it up so that some difficult terrain would be tackled in the dark.  I avoided using my GPS for navigation and stuck strictly to map and compass.  It was a huge success, but it was also fairly, and unseasonably warm.  In general last Spring was a pretty big seasonal outlier.  I was pulling ticks off me in February.

This Spring (or should I say late-Winter)...a whole different story here in PA.  Exhaustingly cold, annoyingly snowy, and frighteningly icy all around.  I decided to have another go at the MST 70-miler, but this time my challenge would be to deal with the snow and ice, and try to improve on my time from last year.  My advantage of course was that I'd likely remember tricky spots (although a year is a long time, and 70 miles of trail do blend together)

While the entire escapade was a success, and it did indeed satiate (at least for now), that fever, I must say it was exhaustingly difficult dealing with all the snow.  When I finished last year, I was able to stay awake for the remainder of the day, thereby keeping myself up for over 36 hours.  This year, after a much shorter 30, I was out cold at home sleeping hard.  In addition, the temps were downright frigid.  I packed my big puffy Antarctica down coat, and man was I glad I had it.  The temps dropped down well into the teens, if not single digits along the ridges and I was chilled to say the least.  Another problem I had that I haven't dealt with in a very long time was keeping my water from freezing.  I had to constantly warm up my hydration tube to keep it from getting iced up.  Thankfully, the forecast is finally starting to show some warmer temps coming in later this week.  Hopefully they will be here to stay.  As far as a planned FKT event, well I haven't nailed anything down just yet, but I'm definitely pondering this a lot and this past weekend's walk certainly made me realize that I'm up for it...and quite capable.

Typical Trail Tread

Crunchy/Icy/Heavy Snow

One of the more easily navigable sections

The Route and Profile.  Not very intimidating looking, 

but it was rocky and snowy!

The final tally:  22hrs 30 mins, 68 miles at monument

22hrs, 45mins, 69 miles at the car.

Total Gain ~8000'

In other news, I had a rather strange experience on Friday night after I changed my facebook profile picture to an old classic.  This one:

Back in the 2008/09 season down at WAIS Divide, a fellow grad student named Logan had an idea to build a WAIS Pole...similar to the South Pole (A sort-of barber-pole/santa claus style pole).  We used an ice core tube, some orange p-cord, and made a frozen blue ice ball for the top.  After it was set up, we decided to take some "upside-down" photos that played on the goofy idea that we were at the bottom of the earth, so we might "fall off!".  We both thought the pics would make for some fun when doing outreach with kids.  So set one of the pics as my profile pic...one I've used many times, and somehow, it ended up on the front page of the website Reddit.  Other than hearing about that site when President Obama hosted a Q and A on it last year, I have never used Reddit before, nor know the rules or etiquette of the site.  Needless to say, I started getting all sorts of emails, and questions from people.  Folks kept asking to "AMA"...and I had to look up what that meant.  It was all rather awkward and uncomfortable.  Thankfully, the attention span of Reddit readers is apparently less than that of 5-year olds as the pics was gone as fast as it was posted.  By now, it's a distant memory. 

Anyhoo....

Can't wait for the weather to warm up so that I can actually enjoy some trail running in those strange things called shorts and t-shirts?

hike on everyone,

-j

One Hundred

Well...I finally did it.  In the 5 years that I've been consistently running, I've never had a non-race week where I managed to rack up 100 or more miles.  Certainly if you include my thru-hikes, then I have...but counting just purely running and/or training, my highest week ever was 92 miles....which I accomplished last year during my Barkley Training.   That milestone last February was followed up the next week by a 90-mile total after I did a full-on blitz run of the 42-mile Black Forest Trail.  

I've always wondered if I could realistically run 100 miles in a week, while still working on my research full time, and whatever else my grad-student responsibilities call for.  Obviously, the running pros often put in 100+ mile training weeks...but in a sense, running is their job.  I vividly remember last year how difficult and time-consuming that 92-mile week was, and I remember even considering going out late on Sunday night to run an 8-miler just to break that mythical 100 barrier.  In the end, I decided it wasn't worth it.   Well some time around Thursday night this week, I started to realize that it might actually be possible to hit 100 miles if I could complete my planned back-to-back long runs over the weekend.  My planned runs would have put me at 96 miles, so I decided to simply tack on 4 miles at the end of my hilly-long run Sunday, just to top out at 100.  I doubt I will ever shoot for 100 again, and I figured this was probably my one shot at it.  What made it so incredible was the Saturday run that made it all possible.  Allow me to explain....

THE GAS LINE TRAVERSE:

Ever since first training on steep hills in Rothrock State Forest, I've been curious about the extreme gas-line cut that basically transects the mountains over a rather ridiculous path.  If you were to simply look at a terrain or topo map of the State College area, what you'd see is that the Appalachian Mountain chain comes up from the South and gradually makes a turn to the East towards New Jersey.  But what makes the area around Rothrock so bizarre, is that the mountain ridges literally fold back on themselves.  The geologic history in this area is storied and complicated, but just looking at a screen capture from google maps below you can clearly see what I mean.   Follow the ridgelines as they make several S-turns before they eventually head East.

Now imagine that you want to put a gas pipe line in a North-South direction, but Rothrock and all its crazy folds are in the way.   The solution, at least to the gas companies apparently, is to simply cut a swath as direct as possible disregarding all sense of topography.  It honestly seems that someone picked the worst possible line through Rothrock, and said, "lets run the gas line here!".  A satellite image below illustrates this as well as my marked route on the terrain map.

At some point last year while doing hill repeats on one of my favourite gas-line climbs, I got the crazy idea in my head to see if it would be possible to run the entire length of the gas-line cut from end-to-end in Rothrock.  I figured that as long as I stayed in Rothrock lands, that it was more-or-less public land....and that no one would really care if I was on them.   I never did actually get out to try this crazy scheme, but I certainly made use of two of the climbs for my hill-repeat training.

This past Saturday, I decided it was finally time to give the idea a go.  My goal, to do an out-n-back full traverse of the gas-line transect.  Start at the Southern Terminus (or at least as close as I could get to it), and head North until I hit the end, or someone's private property.  I had no idea how snowy, rocky, or even traversable all the sections would be.  For all I knew, I was going to be boulder scrambling up 50% graded nightmares.  

The conclusion?  Well it was a huge success...but it was brutal.  One of the climbs was 48% grade, full of briers and boulders, and a down-right ass-kicker.  Right out of the Barkley handbook.  At a couple of the low points, I was presented with some tricky stream crossings and a few marshy areas.  There were two spots that I had to improvise a little to avoid private property and I was not able to run the last 1/2 mile on the Northern end as it was posted private lands and out of Rothrock State Forest.  In total the full out-n-back traverse was about 21 miles and packed a whopping 8500' of elevation gain.  Like I said....brutal.  To make matters worse, all of the North Facing slopes were still snowy and icy.  I brought my trekking poles for this endeavor and I was glad I did.  There ended up being a lot of power-hiking due to the technical footing and steep hills.

Some Stats:

Total length: 21 Miles

Total Time: 6 1/2 Ass-Kicking Hours

Highest single climb:  1250' in 0.95 miles

Steepest climb:  48%

Stream Crossings:  8

Marsh Navigations:  2

Boulder Scrambles: 4

Longest Truly Runable Stretch:  Maybe 2 miles

Trekking Poles:  Yep...and they were great to have!

Gear:  The usual...nothing special.

Would I ever do it again?  Ugh...Likely No.

Elevation Profile

Here are some pics and a video from the adventure...

After quickly sprinting down to the road at the Southern Terminus, 

I started my first climb.  Doesn't look so bad....

Still going up after crossing a jeep road

Looking back on the North Facing descent that I just came down.

On one of the crests looking off in the distance to the steepest 

of the climbs.  This is the same 1250' climb that I've been doing 

for hill repeats that goes up "Grass Mountain".

At the Northern end of the cut, I couldn't make the final descent 

without encroaching on private lands.  I decided to simply turn 

around at this point about 1/2 mile from the actual end point.

Another North-facing snowy climb

One of the few "runable" sections

Back Home with All Pistons Firing

Out for a brisk run at WAIS Divide

I'm officially back home in lovely State College, having survived my fifth season in Antarctica.  Coming off of the ice this year was somewhat of a bitter-sweet departure, as it marks the end to what will likely be my yearly jaunts down south.  The ice-core drilling at WAIS Divide is over.  I know what you're thinking...didn't I say that the past two years?  But this time, there will be no last minute grant extensions nor replicate drill requests.  The drilling facility is literally being torn down next season and other than a couple of weeks of borehole logging, all science at the site related to the ice-coring, ended this year.  There's always a possibility I could head back for a quick pole-net stint again, or as part of whatever future career I end up with, but there's a very real possibility that I may not set foot in Antarctica again.  I totaled up all of the days that I've been on the Continent over the course of the past five years, and that number is 339 days.  What this means is that of my 36 years on this planet, I have spent a cumulative total of just over 11 months of my life in Antarctica.  In a nutshell...nearly a year.

I have a lot of labwork, writing, and data processing that needs to be done, before I can defend my thesis.  This means that this year will likely be stressful.  Nevermind throwing in various post-doc and/or other job applications in there, and I will likely be participating in a unique "academic ultra" of sorts.

This isn't to say that I won't run a few races this year, but probably not as many as last year.  My first focus must be academic.

I've already been busy the first two weeks that I've been back.  But First, a quick recap of my 5th, and possibly final, Antarctic adventure:

I arrived in McMurdo just after Thanksgiving.  After gathering cargo and science equipment, I found I had time to kill while waiting for my flight out to WAIS.  I made sure to get in some good trail runs on the rocky Ross Island trails.  I knew once at WAIS, it would be a lot of skiway running.

I took my annual, and now traditional photo, behind the McMurdo sign, and even compiled this cliche' montage highlighting my 5 years.

A new, and rather ridiculous addition to the United States Antarctic Program, was the oft-talked-about "Kress" vehicle.  To say that it's enormous, would be an understatement.  There's absolutely no explanation that anyone can give to me that would honestly justify the purchasing and use of this monstrosity.  I won't even go into all of the technical issues with a vehicle this size in McMurdo, but that fact that it belongs to the American Program, and is so unnecessarily large, speaks volumes to the stereotype of Americans always needing bigger and bigger things.  Perhaps the USAP consulted with Texas before deciding to drop several million dollars on this beasty.  I made the following image as a joke, but it does serve to illustrate what could be argued as an overall problem with American thinking....

Speaking of the Kiwis, I made another trip over to Scott Base to buy some souvenirs.  Always a blast heading over there.

I managed to squeeze in a little geo-caching in McMurdo as well and found this little beauty hiding up on Observation Hill.  It was buried well.  Who knew that there were active geo-cachers in Antarctica.

Eventually, after about 10 days, I made it out to WAIS Divide.  I secured a great spot in the far corner of Tent City, and got my self settled.  After about a week of "fine-tuning", the drillers managed to pull up the first piece of replicate ice core.  This core was drilled at an angle off of the main borehole, thereby preserving it for future logging.  What made the replicate drilling so revolutionary was that it was done on the up-wall side of the borehole....essentially against gravity.  This meant the drillers had to use intelligent actuators and software to push the drill the right way during each run.  Truly remarkable what those guys are able to accomplish.

WAIS Divide (and my tent site)

First piece of Replicate core!

Special "Milling" head used on the drill to flatten a ledge for replicate coring

Because the first 5 meters of replicate core weren't fully round, nor part of the requested science depths, we were all able to take a few photos holding the first core when it came out.  This is the only time in the history of the project, that an ice core has ever been allowed to be handled in this manner.  It was a bit unsettling having a 40,000 year old ice core in my hands.

The four core-handling science techs

(Me, Ross, Brad, Emily)

First Up-Wall replicate core ever drilled

IDDO's video from the season!

At one point during the season, we decided to host a whisky tasting.  Everyone in camp that brought their own whisky, put it into the pool, and we were able to sample a whole slew of different varieties (mostly scotches).  I brought the Ardbeg Uigeadail.

A few weeks later, there were actually three of us at camp with very Hungarian surnames.  We decided to honor our ancestry with this photo.  I was the only one that didn't actually speak Hungarian though.  (Fanny; pronounced Fawnie, Me, and Ildiko)

As part of my side research, I set up 5 temperature logging strings near camp. Their purpose was to run continuously, tracking the temperature in the upper 5 meters of snow at WAIS.  These data, when combined with solar and meteorological data, will hopefully will allow me to get a better handle on what causes the various changes with near-surface snow that I've documented over the years.

Programming a Logger

Building the Logger Box

Calibrating the sensors in an ice bath

An expansive surface "glaze" I photographed at camp

Putting in a station after drilling a 5 meter deep hole

Putting the sensor string down

One final voltage check

Towards the end of the season, a group of four of us went out to help Brad with his side project.  This project involved digging snowpits and drilling 10-meter shallow cores at 5 different sites near WAIS Divide. (The drilling was done with the same hand-auger drill that I used to make my 5-meter holes for my sensor strings).  The farthest drill site we had to visit was about 40km from camp.  What made this side project so exciting was that it meant we got to drive out on snowmobiles, and then set up a small/remote camp for the night.  In five years, I've never been able to actually camp alone away from a large station or camp (with the exception of maybe my snow school back in '08).

This was our camp.  Two small tents and our snowmobiles.  That was it.

Sampling the snowpit

Driving out to the camp

Another shot of the camp

Here was what I wrote about the experience in my journal and later sent to some friends via email:

"A few days ago, a team of four of us went on a snowmobile traverse about 40 kilometers from our main camp.  The purpose was to drill some shallow firn(snow) cores and sample snow pits on the other side of the ice-flow divide.  Because of the distance from camp, we had to set up a small remote camp and spend the night out there (of course I say night....but it never gets dark).  At about 9 pm, after we had finished drilling our cores, I went out for a walk away from the tents about 2 miles (still close enough to see them though).  It was a fairly calm and warm night...probably about -20C or so.  As I stood there alone, I realized that I was as truly "out there" as I would probably ever be.  It's a completely staggering feeling; an almost desperate disconnected-ness.  It's hard to think of any other time in my life that I've been so remote...or imagine a time in my future where I'll again be this remote"

Time-lapse of shallow drilling

Time-lapse of shallow drilling and snowpitting

(I'm snow-pitting, Brad, Emily, and Graham are drilling)

I left camp on Friday, January 25th....the day the last core was pulled up.  The optimistic, and what many people thought was an unlikely goal for the season, was to drill five separate replicate cores...all from different depths, ranging in total lengths from 12 meters to 100 meters.  When I left on Friday, they were pulling up the last core from the fifth and final deviation.  All target depths were drilled, and drilled successfully, with the entire replicate coring project being a huge success.  The flights home went quickly and smoothly (with the exception of my chicago flight), and now I am thrust back into a busy world of grad school catch up.  It seems I haven't really even had time to process my fifth season.  It was a huge success, but it also went by rather quickly, and I haven't honestly had a lot of time to reflect on it.  I was so very glad to be asked back again and was honored to have been a part of such an incredible crew.  It's hard to believe there won't be any drilling next year, but I know that this is the case.   Perhaps I will find a way back down, and finally break that 1-year-of-ice-time barrier.  Who knows.  I know at least this:  I love working in the polar environment and Antarctica has truly become a second home for me.  It is a magical place that I long to return to every year.  I hope I can, and will find a way back.  

But for now, it's time to push ahead with my thesis and my future career options.  My grad school chapter of my life is slowly winding down and must soon come to an end.

As far as other fun stuff.  Well...I've been up to a little goofiness since getting back.  On February 2nd, I attended...in person, the official groundhog day festival.  It was notably more crowded than I expected it to be.  Gobbler's Knob looked like a huge outdoor music concert.  There were easily 10-15 thousand people there.  It was a bit surreal being there, and I was convinced at any moment that Bill Murray was going to jump out.

And finally.......the running.  When last I updated, I was noting my current physical woes.  I was having heel pain, toe pain, and knee pain.  Since taking a few weeks off in November, I slowly began working up my miles while out at WAIS Divide.  By the end of the season, I was back to 40-50 mile weeks.  The knee pain is thankfully gone completely, but I still have come-and-go heel pain.  At some point I probably should get an x-ray to make sure there's no bone spur, but for now I enjoy getting outdoors too much to let it slow me down.  Neither my heel nor my toe have gotten any worse.  

The first weekend I was back in State College, I went for a 20-mile trail run in Rothrock while it was cold and snowing.  It was absolutely magnificent.  In the two weeks since then, I've stepped up my running again and have been trying to get out as much as I can.  I really missed the dirt beneath my feet this year while in Antarctica, and since coming back, I can't get enough of the wooded trails in and around Rothrock State Forest.  I have even been going back to old hill-workout sites from last year to see how I would hold up.  Surprisingly...I managed just fine....

The ol' 1250 feet in 1 mile gas-line cut in Rothrock

Being nostalgic with some eye-popping hill repeats