Redemption Will Have to Wait

Thought I'd write a little training update to show some accountability on my new goals.

First, after a few slushy days, this Winter has been perfect for running so far. It sucks for anyone training for a snowshoe race or any other real Winter sport but it's been great for us poor souls stuck in the city. Running in slush drives me nuts and ice scares me, so I'm a happy camper right now.

This brings me to the important thing: Leadville. That's going to be a recurring theme until the end of August. All Leadville, all the time. Truth is, I've probably read ALL the Leadville blogs out there and I've come to the conclusion that for me to finish the race withing the 30 hours, I will need to commit physically and mentally. I wouldn't be as worried if the time limit was 32 or 34 hours, but 30 hours will be hard.

Yesterday I had my first official talk with coach Derrick. Now that Derrick has got that silly Yukon Arctic Ultra (where he finished second in an unbelievable 23 hours and 18 minutes) out of his system, he can move on to the real important stuff: how to get me over Hope Pass twice and on to the finish within the time limit. Derrick is fast at work building my plan as we speak and I will begin formal training in about 10 days.

One thing that came out of this conversation is the realization that I can't seek redemption at Mohican without jeopardizing my Leadville race. Running a 100 miles takes a big mental and physical chunk out of me and sometimes I can be months running like crap. I just can't afford the down time. On the other hand, last year's DNF at Mohican left me in pretty good shape. Derrick suggested I run Laurel Highlands, a 70 miler down in Pennsylvania in early June. I've heard excellent things about that race so I'm pretty sure that this is exactly what I'm going to do.

On the training front, I have to say that things are going great. My right Achilles is the best it's been in a very long time. I've lost about 5 pounds since I started my calorie counting project a bit over 3 weeks ago. Basically, I've stopped stuffing my face all evening and eating chocolate croissants for breakfast. Another aspect I wanted to improve was consistency and that's improved as well. I've run pretty much 6 times per week in the last month. I'm up to about 6 hours of running per week, which is starting to feel like real training.

The biggest difference though is how I feel while I'm running. To be completely honest, last year, running was sometimes a struggle. Even short runs felt like crap, except maybe when I ran on trails. I never really got into a groove while running on pavement, where my Achilles hurt with every damn foot strike. For the past couple of weeks, as the pain slowly receded, even those boring runs feel great and I actually enjoy them. I guess it's true what they say, consistency pays off.

That's pretty much my news for now. I'm leaving for three weeks of running bliss in Arizona on February 29th and I can't wait. I'm looking at running the 50k or 30k at Mesquite Canyon, on March 11th somewhere near Phoenix. The 30k seems more reasonable but I'm not discarding the 50k depending on how I'm feeling.

Hope those pilots at Air Canada don't rain on my parade with a strike.

Sometimes

Sometimes I feel like crying because I’m so tired of running. The thought of going out for another run on nasty, unmaintained, slippery sidewalks makes me want to puke.

Sometimes I feel like crying because I’m sick of pain. Pain in my ankles. Pain in my quads. Pain in my calf. I feel like if I ran only when there’s no pain, I wouldn’t run at all.

Sometimes I feel like crying because I feel like I’m waisting my time running ultras. I suck at running long and I’m not really getting any better.

Sometimes I feel like crying because I’m mad at my family for not giving a shit about my running and never offering any support.

Sometimes I feel like crying because I hate other runners, for whom everything seems to effortless, who get up at 5AM to run, who never seem to doubt anything. Why is it so hard for me?

Sometimes I feel like crying because I wonder if I’ll ever be able to run 100 miles again. It’s so hard. Can I ever summon that much willpower again?

But then again;

Sometimes I feel like crying when I remember standing alone under the stars in Alaska, my headlamp off, taking it all in.

Sometimes I feel like crying when I stop during a long run in the desert to look around and see how beautiful it all is.

Sometimes I feel like crying because I feel so alive I can hardly stand it.

Sometimes I feel like crying because I know how lucky I am to be able to do this.

Don’t worry though. Most of the time, I’m OK.

Re-Boot

After barely dragging my ass out of the Grand Canyon in October, I had a hard time running with any kind of consistency in November and December. Heck, I had a hard time all year!

I felt like I had all the excuses in the book. Too much work, tired, my Achilles is killing me and finally my favorite: maybe having half my thyroid removed is lowering my energy level. It’s rare but it happens. Haven’t I gained over 10 pounds in the last year? Surely it has nothing to do with the fact that I’M EATING LIKE A FRACKING PIG. I eat a lot, I eat often and I snack all night. AND I had gained about 5 lbs even BEFORE the operation. What's up with that? Obviously, I'm full of it.

So my new thinking is this: my right Achilles hurts more because I’m heavy AND I run too long for my level of fitness right now. I would typically go for a run at lunch, let’s say 8 or 10k and then my Achilles would hurt the next day and I would skip. Vicious circle. No consistency. I believe my fitness has been on a downward spiral for over a year now. I need to do something about this.

My new plan is to rebuild from the ground up.

• Lose weight: It’s a fact that I need to lose weight if I’m going to finish Leadville. I hear people who say they ask their pacer to carry their water bottle, which weighs a pound, and here I am carrying 15 our 20 extra pounds on my back. I need to go below 160 lbs. I started calorie counting on Monday so I can reset my eating habits. Calorie counting is the only technique that works for me. Everything becomes black and white: either you eat it or you don’t.
• Consistency: I want to run at least 5 times a week, preferably 6 times. I’m starting with short runs, in the 30 minute range, so I won’t aggravate my Achilles and have to skip. I should be able to build fairly quickly on top of this. I went out 6 times last week and this week looks good.
• Increase volume: As mentioned, my training sucked last year. Looking back at my training log last year, I see only 8 weeks where I ran more than 7 hours. If you take into account the fact that I ran two hundred milers, paced two others, ran two 50k and did r2r2r then you’re left with ONE week where I trained more than 7 hours. It’s really hard to run more than 5 or 6 hours if you run 4 times a week. Your really need to run maybe 5 but probably 6 or more days to get that kind of volume.
• Shoes: After two years running in Nike Lunarglides, I’ve decided to switch back to the Lunaracers. I’ve noticed after coming back from running trails in my Crosslites that my Achilles felt really good only to get really painful after a couple of road runs in the Lunarglides. I’m not a big fan of Nike because they change their fracking shoes too often but I seem to come back to them. I tried to get me some Adizero Pros, but Adidas doesn’t seem to carry them here. Fuck ‘em. I got a new pair of Lunaracers which is more of a neutral shoe, where the Lunarglides are more of a “support” shoe. They feel pretty good and my Achilles feels really good. Then again, might be my new plan and the shoes do nothing.

So this is my re-boot plan. After I’ve consolidated this for a while, I will get into more Mohican/Leadville-specific training (aka ‘pain’).

Speaking of Mohican, I see on their website that they have removed the horrible 2 mile lollipop we had to do at the end of each loop. This is a relief. A (small) part of me thinks that to get true redemption, I would have needed the same course, but really that section of the course was truly horrible. The cutoff is still 32 hours, so I shouldn’t count my chickens until I see what they’ve replaced it with...

Santa's Back 5K Race Report

After a couple of weeks of more or less stable training, I decided that I needed to set a baseline for my training. Being an unconditional Jack Daniel's follower, I needed to know my current VDOT so I can determine my various training paces. JD says that the only way to know is to race, so when I got an email last week about the "Santa is back" 5K race in Whitby, I knew I was in. A quick email to Chris and he (and Kim) was in as well.

I hadn't raced a 5k since April 10, 2009, which will forever be remembered as the day I broke the 20 minutes barrier. Compared to the logistics of preparing for an ultra, getting ready for a 5k felt like going out to the corner store to grab a can of Pepsi. After dropping off my wife to the airport, I stopped at Kim & Chris' place and got changed there while they were getting ready. For the first time ever, I made the mistake of bringing two right foot Injinji toe-socks. This is a puzzle I've long solved, ever since I saw a guy do the very same mistake before Haliburton. I had nearly 29 hours to think about it then, so I immediately inside-out'ed one sock and voila!, one right and one left.

Two issues were conspiring against me. One is my lack of training at the faster paces. I did a few strides this week, just for for shits and giggles, and I noticed that I completely forgot my various paces. I used to know exactly what my 10k or 5k paces felt like but now I have no idea. My other problem is my weight. Running a lot of distance allows you to eat pretty much whatever you want, but I've run a lot less since July and I've kept eating. The scale was packed up in a box somewhere while we were renovating the upstairs bathroom and a few weeks ago I finally stepped on it and nearly had a coronary when I saw the readout: 177 lbs, about 10 lbs over my target range of 160-165.

We got to the race site, signed up, warmed-up. It was a nice but blustery day. I knew that the course was pretty exposed and we would be running a long stretch going on a slight uphill with the wind blowing right in our face. I figured that would even out the fact that the course was 100 meter short. It was an out and back course. Why they didn't just place the turn-around cone 50 meters further is one of those mysteries that I will haunt me forever. It was on a bike path, there was no ice or other barrier, they knew the course was short (they had announced it). Why, why, why?

Anyway, about 100 people were lined up for the 5k. Chris and I were close to the front and Kim seeded herself a bit further back. When the horn sounded, we rushed forward to get through the 3 feet wide gate that funneled people onto the first section of the walk path before the crowd. After 1km I thought I was done for. The wind was horrible. After 2km, I was still hanging in. The gap between me and the guy ahead of me was pretty stable. I turned around at 2.45km (WHY? WHY?) huffin' and puffin'. The return trip was an exercise in pain management, trying to fend off a side stitch that was threatening to stop me in my tracks and broken expectations when the distance between every single landmarks turned out to be 3 times further than I remembered them on the way out.

I finally saw the clock ticking up from 21:10 and went as hard as I could, finishing in 21:32. Not too bad. Then of course they expect you to stay still while they remove the chip and give you a medal, while you are basically trying not to pass out. Everyone was pretty happy with their results. Kim beat her PB. Chris finished about 20 seconds ahead of me, which I expected because he's been training a lot more seriously than I have.

So this gives me a VDOT of 46, down 4 points from my all time high of 50. I was 160 lbs at the time, so if I adjust for my current unfortunate weight using Daniel's weight correction, I get something that's pretty close to 50. By that I mean that if you had a VDOT of 50 and suddenly went from 160 to 175 lbs, you could expect your race results to reflect a VDOT of 46. Losing the weight is going to be a priority.

Here we go. Back to training.

What a Year

2011 was a tough year but it had its rewards. I ran a ridiculously wet and cold 50KM at the Mud Puppies where I actually felt colder than at any point during Susitna. I experienced my first DNF at Mohican, after 60-some miles in unbelievable heat and humidity, to say nothing of the unexpectedly brutal course. Six weeks later, I again cooked my brain and body in debilitating heat at Burning River but this time I overcame the night demons (on a course that was WAY more difficult than expected) and finished. I paced in two races, two perfect strangers for about 60-70km each, helping them finish their first 100 milers and making new friends in the process. Finally, I ran across the Grand Canyon and back, spraying Gatorade through my mouth and nose all over the South Kaibab trail on the way back up, swearing I would never do anything that stupid again only to find myself signing up for the Leadville 100 on the first day registration opened and then put my name in the Western States lottery.

Funny to think that I’m one of the more reasonable ultrarunners. That being said, I’ve now added some more amazing memories to my list of things I will never regret doing. I believe that those memories will be important when comes the time when most of the day is spent reminiscing, sitting on the rocking chair and telling stories that nobody believes or really cares about.

I do have some regrets about this year, although they were beyond my control. I do wish that I had been able to train a little bit more this year. As proud as I am of what I accomplished, things at work were so insane that I just didn’t have the mental energy required to run the volume that I should have. On the other hand, work was really interesting so what are you going to do?

What’s in store for 2012?  Well, my first big race will be in June, either Western States if I get in or I’m going back for redemption at Mohican. Then, the summer will be spent rebuilding to get ready for Leadville on August 18-19th. Leadville scares the shit out of me, because it’s not just a little dip at altitude, it’s a full 100 miles above 9000 feet, going as high as 12,500 feet. The highest point in Western States (8700 ft) is lower than the lowest point in Leadville (9200 ft). Four big climbs, including two huge ones. For a wannabe like me, this is going to be a big challenge. I’m freaking myself out as I’m writing this so enough said.

To try to save me from my poor decision making, I will once again ask Derrick to train me. Derrick has his own problems with impulse control (he just signed up for the Yukon Arctic Ultra 100 miler), but he did do an amazing job of getting me ready for the two 100 milers that he trained me for. There isn’t much he can do for my poor flat-lander, sea-level lungs but I’m sure he will get me as ready as I can be.

Depending on how devastated I am after Leadville, I would like to rebuild over September and October and run the Javalina 100, near Phoenix in Arizona. We will see about that one, but it’s close to our place and I could make a vacation out of it.

For now, I’m barely running. I’m fat. I don’t care. One needs some rest, so I’m recharging my mental batteries until the new year and then it will be time to start taking things more seriously.

R2R2R Epic Report

I wasn't really ready for an effort of this magnitude  (a recurring theme this year). Sure, I've run long distances this summer, with some decent climbs, at least for an east coast runner. The thing is, it's easy to look at r2r2r only as numbers. Forty-two miles, 11,000 feet of climbing. Doesn't sound too bad. Well, once again, reality came knocking.

Chris, Steve and I have been planning for this adventure for about a year. A group of OUSER runners did the R2R2R last year and we've have R2R2R-envy ever since. In the last few months, two more runners joined the group: Johnny and Kendra. On Sunday the 23rd, they all flew into Phoenix. I picked them up at the airport and we drove to our condo in Sedona where we immediately went for an hour shakedown run on the local trails.  On Monday morning we got ready and departed for Grand Canyon, where we had reserved two rooms at the Yavapai lodge in the park itself. We took our sweet time, stopping a few times along the way to see the sights.

Chapel

I was the only one who had seen the Canyon previously.  At the first view point, we stopped the car, got out and just stood there, saying things like "holy fuck!" or "Jesus Christ!".  Pictures don't give the Grand Canyon justice and the thought that we could make it to the other side, let alone come back, in one day, eating a handful of gels and power bars, seemed ludicrous.

First look at the Grand Canyon

 We found a place to park the minivan near the South Kaibab trail head and walked there for a quick recon. By then, I had butterfly in my stomach. We all went down a bit down the trail to get a taste and took a few pictures. We were all excited, babbling like little kids, asking questions to hikers coming up the trail. Following the advice of local Sedona runners who had done r2r2r many times, we had pretty much decided to stick to the South Kaibab trail for the return trip, rather than take the longer, but shallower Bright Angel trail. With the cool temperatures that were on the forecast, the lack of water on South Kaibab would not be an issue and saving two miles, even at the cost of an extra 500 feet of climbing, seemed like a great idea.

Trail winding down

We got our rooms, got dinner and went to bed around 9:00 PM.  By 4:30 AM all five of us are standing at the trail head, with winds of about 25 miles/hr blowing in our face. We all have backpacks containing 3 litre bladders filled with our drink of choice as well as food, clothes and electronics. We can see nothing outside of the circle of lights created by our headlamps. We try to take a group picture, but we're all chomping at the bit, anxious to begin and we just go.

 We follow each other cautiously, the wind picking up dust, at time reminding me of a snow storm. It's obvious from the start that the group's pace is not comfortable for everyone but we stick more or less together.  After a fairly short distance, we get to an exposed section where we lose the trail for a minute. We pull out the map in the wind and get our bearings. There's only one trail and we eventually find it and keep going. The trail is pretty nice but I'm cautious. The thought of tripping freaks me right out. Some of the sections are nicer than other but some require us to jump down steps or rocks. We go down for over 90 minutes in the dark, my quads slowly starting to feel the burn. Johnny decides to push ahead and will be waiting for us at the Phantom Ranch at the bottom of the canyon. As we approach the bottom, we see lamps below, slowly moving up and we start meeting hikers on their way out of the canyon after sleeping at the ranch or at the campground. Most look a bit grumpy and we just say "hi" and keep going. As we near the bottom, daylight makes an appearance and we can see the suspension bridge crossing the Colorado river below us. The river is pretty damn big. We get there, cross the bridge and push on to the Phantom Ranch where we join John at around 6:15 AM. We've run 7 miles and come down 5000 feet. I still feel great, my legs are good. The worse part of coming down was the constant breaking and I didn't really breathe hard during the descent.

At the Phantom Ranch

At the ranch, we decide to break up the group. The two faster guys want to go by themselves. Us slowpokes decide to stick together. The trail from the ranch to the Pump House is about 7 miles of gentle-ish uphill. We take our time and take lots of pictures and movies. The running in this 7 miles section, from Phantom Ranch to the Pumphouse, is pretty good. We walk a few of the bigger hills, but by this time Kendra is in front setting a nice pace and she likes to run the uphills to "use different muscle groups". The weather is still perfect, with a light cloud cover that prevents the sun from making the temperature uncomfortably hot. From the web site we know that all the water sources are still on, except for the taps at the very top of the North Rim. That's good news because that means we won't need to purify any water.

Bottom of the North Side

The real climbing starts near the Pump House. The trail starts to hug the canyon wall and for the most past the trail becomes an unending 4-to-6 feet wide ledge that climbs up and up and up. The surface is ok, but a few sections are dicey and now that it's daytime, we can see clearly what could happen should we slip or trip so we tend to stay close to the wall rather than the other side, where a moment of inattention can send you down some huge cliff. Slowly, we go up. There isn't much running anymore. Every 10 minutes we stop to take pictures or look around. We can't believe how incredible this is. We can see what we believe to be the top, but as much as we climb, it doesn't seem to be getting any closer. The two guys forgot to leave one of the two maps with us, so we're a bit fuzzy about the distances between some of the landmarks.

Yes, it was scary at times

Eventually, we  hear some voices and here are Johnny and Steve, coming back down. They tell us we're less than an hour from the top. They also ask us if we saw the map they left for us way back near the Ribbon Falls side trail. I had seen some markings, but I definitely saw no map so we figured somebody took it. Steve tells us they'll be waiting for us in the car at the trailhead. They resume their descent and we keep climbing. I'm really starting to huff-and-puff. As we get closer to 8000 feet, my breathing is getting louder and louder. Kendra seems to barely notice and just keeps going. I'm feeling ok, but this altitude is starting to get to me.

We're meeting quite a few people hiking down from the North Rim now.  Most people are just going down for a short hike, but some are going all the way across, sleeping first at the Cottonwood campground, then at Bright Angel and finally at Indian Garden.

Finally, after more climbing, some more amazing vistas and some rain, I hear a hoot from Kendra and I figure she made it to the summit where Chris and I join her a minute later, some time around 12:15. As we sit in from of the top marker to take the requisite picture, hail starts to fall down and we decide to go down where the temperature is a bit warmer.

At the top, North Rim

The difference coming down is amazing. Sections that took hours are dispatched in minutes. We stop at a little rest area after the Supai tunnel to fill our bladders and eat a bit. A bunch of hikers are there and we exchange a few stories. I'm feeling good but I'm getting sick of Gatorade. My initial plan was to drink eLoad but I couldn't find any and the taste of Gatorade is starting to get to me. I pop my last two Tylenol to calm my right Achilles that are starting to get a bit tender. I decide not to switch to water but rather stick to Gatorade. In retrospect, this was probably a mistake. I had been drinking what I thought was diluted Gatorade but in reality was full strength. The US mixing instructions were in quarts and gallons and cups and I somehow got confused when translating to litres. Add gels and other solids and what you have is way too much sugar in my stomach. We're going down at an easy pace though, so I'm feeling ok. Down the narrow switchbacks we go. Just as the sun comes out a bit and things get a bit warm, the trail switches canyon wall and we get in the shade. In what now seems like no time at all, we're back at the Pump House where we stop to drink and eat a bit.

Supai Tunnel near top of North Rim

The trail joins the river and now we're on the 8.5 miles stretch to the Ranch. Easy running, but starting to get harder. The views are still out of this world. The walls of the side canyon we're running in are slowly closing in around us and the feeling of being somewhere special is sometimes overwhelming.  Sometimes, we can see the South Rim, far ahead and I have a hard time believing that I'm going to be climbing that in a few hours. Everything is just so big.

About 2 miles from Phantom Ranch, I'm at the back of our little group and I hear a high pitched scream followed by "SNAKE!". Kendra just jumped over a rattlesnake that was getting itself warm near a rock on the trail. She saw it too late when it started to rattle and had to choice but to just jump over it. When I see it, it's coiled and a bit miffed. It slowly gets off the trail. My camera decides to chose that time to refuse to boot up but Chris gets a good picture and a short clip.

Kendra almost stepped on this rattlesnake

After that, we tend to look down rather than up. After this long day, I'm starting to feel the strain and the thought of climbing up the South Rim is a bit daunting. Chris looks a bit stiff but Kendra is just as bouncy as she was in the morning. I don't know what Crossfit does, but it seems to be doing Something. We keep talking about how we're going to try to buy a cold bottle of Coke at the ranch and how great it's going to be. Eventually, we get to the ranch, but there's no Coke to be bought. Our money is no good down here, and not in a good sense. We sit near the water faucet and rest a bit. Chris looks like shit. I don't notice it, but apparently I'm really bloated and I'm walking around with my gut sticking out. I feel fine though and I drink a bit, refill and put more Gatorade in my bladder. I'm out of Tylenol, but I want to make sure my Achilles don't bother me too much on the way up so I take two Excedrin. After 10 or 15 minutes, we get going again and get to the bridge at 5:30PM.

On our way up South Kaybab

Less than 7 miles to go. Cake. We figure 3 hours, maybe 3:30. AH!

The South Kaibab trail is pretty scenic and the first 30 minutes are impressive. Beautiful views in the sunset and all that. Then it gets dark and all we have to do is climb. And climb. And climb. There's nothing to look at, we just look at the circle created by our headlamp and walk up. As we go up, I'm starting to get a bit nauseous.  Then, a bit becomes quite a bit, then really nauseous. When we stop, it seems to get worse. I'm really edgy. I start wishing that I hadn't taken those Excedrin. I keep thinking that the caffeine rush is too much in my weakened state. I'm not a puker. I have not puked since 1994, when I got a stomach flu that got the better of me. Before that, I puked in 1980 after eating some "magic" brownies that gave me the munchies, causing a chain reaction. My point is, I do get nauseous but I don't puke. Now, I don't remember feeling this retched. About 4 miles from the top, I call for a break. I sit on a rock, my feet spread apart, looking at the donkey shit on the trail. I'm so sick of Gatorade. Kendra offers water but I'm not too sure about that either. Chris says "One of two things will happen, you'll feel better or you'll throw up".  Deferring to Chris' vast experience in all things puke-related, I take a solid pull from Kendra's water. Fifteen seconds later, I'm starring in disbelief as a powerful jet of Gatorade sprays out of my mouth (not unlike a scene from the Exorcist) and splashes on the trail splattering my shoes. And again. Then some more. Just as I think this is over, my gut seems to get into second gear and spasms even harder, pushing ever more liquids out my mouth and my nose. Unbelievable. A part of me is wondering if it's possible to drown doing this. Slowly, my abs calm down and I feel a bit better. I look around and Chris is so tired that hasn't moved, he's still standing right there, one hand on the wall of the canyon, looking at me with clinical, detached interest: "I know exactly how you feel", he says.

All we saw for 4 hours

I get up and we get going. We get to a sign that says "Trail Head 3.5 miles". Fuck. I was hoping for something like 1.5 miles. We get to a flatter area, probably Skeleton Point and I'm actually feeling better. As soon as we start climbing again though, the nausea comes back though. I keep calling for breaks. My non-puking streaks, that used to last for decades, now only last minutes. I have no energy. I'm pretty sure all the Gatorade and food I ingested since Phantom Ranch, maybe from even earlier, are gone. Every switchback, I look up hoping to see an easy section. Every time, my spirits sink when I see another long, steep climb. The wind has picked up and we put warmer clothes on. It rains a bit. Kendra is in front, cheering me up the trail.

South Kaibab in daylight

It's a weird feeling, being on the side of that wall, knowing you have to get yourself out. I'm not really in trouble. I'm just so fucking tired, going on fumes, and I want to get to the top but I can't get to the top if I don't move. I fantasize aloud about getting my space blanket out and having a nap. Kendra does not approve of the idea. Breaks go from being every 30 minutes to 15 minutes then 5 minutes. Un-fucking believable. I remember being more mentally distressed during 100 milers, but I've NEVER felt this weak before. My legs feel hollow. I puke a total of 5 times going up that fucking wall, then things get a bit better except for the fact that I'm sooo tired. I'm kind of resigning myself to the fact that this will never end. This trail will just keep going forever. And then, all of a sudden: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT? I see a sign, telling people not to attempt to go down the canyon and up the same day! That has to be close to the top! I perk right up. We keep going. A few minutes later, a "No Dogs Allowed" sign. I KNOW that fucking sign! Steve and I came here yesterday! We're here! We climb up a couple of switchbacks and all of a sudden, a see a flat paved area and a couple of steps. Not a log, not a pile of rocks: honest to God steps. We're on top. We group-hug. We've done it. In traditional ultra fashion, I swear I will never do this again, just as I've sworn after every hundred miler I've run that I would never again subject myself to such misery. We all know what that's worth.

I see some lights in the parking lot but I go the wrong way to get there. I turn around and walk toward the car. I keep thinking the guys are going to come out and congratulate us, singing songs and carrying us on their shoulders. I get to the car and both of them are asleep, the engine running. Jesus, what if they died from CO2 poisoning? What am I going to do? Poor me!  Of course, they are fine and they let us in after I knock on the window. It feels like 100 degrees in the car. I wedge myself in the back seat. I feel so content right now. It's 10PM. What was supposed to be a 3 to 4 hour climb turned into a 5h30 hour pain-fest. Who cares? We fucking finished. There are no cut-offs here. You either do it or you don't.

We decide to sleep in the park again if we can find rooms. Nobody wants to drive. Sure enough, we find two rooms. We buy a couple of pizzas and after a long search for the elusive lodge, we finds the block we're looking for and get inside. I can't eat yet. I have a shower and still I can't eat. I drink ice-cold coke and Ginger ale like it's going out of style, but after one little bit of pizza, I call it quits and go to sleep without eating. Don't worry, I ate plenty the next day!

This was an epic adventure that I recommend to anyone who can do it. The sights, the trails, the climbs, the misery, everything I experienced was MORE than I expected. Everyone finished. Some faster than others, but everybody had a blast. This run was challenging for me. I had just not trained as much as I should have. Still, I have no regrets. Even going up that wall, puking my guts out every 30 minutes, I knew I was doing something special that I would remember for the rest of my life, something that only a lucky few are ever able to accomplish. All I had to do is what we all do: keep moving forward, relentless forward motion.

R2R2R

Just a quick post to let you know that all five people in our group successfully finished the Grand Canyon double traverse in times varying from 12:30 to 17:30. Of course, I was with the slower group. The run was way more challenging than I expected. Full race report coming up soon.