Island Vacation

The first three of these photos are from a run in the Missionary Ridge area last week. The rest are from yesterdays jaunt up to the pass above Island Lake. I ran the Jemez 50 miler on Saturday, and being able to hike up to nearly 13,000 feet four days later felt pretty good. This was my first day of the year on the Hardrock course, and my appetite for this kind of terrain has not diminished.  I'm looking forward to getting up high as much as possible between now and July 13th. Between the amazing views and lack of oxygen to the brain, it hardly even hurts! Yet.
   Last weekends race was a blast. I got to hang out with some great friends, run a nice tough course, and get humbled by some big climbs. I was reminded that I am not fast. I want to be, and I am working on it, but the slow grind is still my forte. I also got to witness a beautiful first time ultra experience. A good friend jumped right in the deep end and did one of the tougher 50 milers around for his first ultra. Hell, he hadn't even run a marathon. When I saw him at the finish he had the thousand yard stare, and was hobbling with a trekking pole. Now, I don't want to see people hurt themselves, and I'm not a sadist. I just know what it means to me to achieve what I thought I might not be able to do. I'll never know what he thought, and exactly how it changed him. My guess is that it will turn a strong mind into an even more confident mind. The more I run ultras the more I feel there is value in the lessons learned. At first I thought it was just my escapist mentality of literally running away from the real world. Now I'm starting to see the lasting value of these experiences. Watching my friend gut out that finish made me feel just a little more connected, a little less alone in the crazy, modern world. I hope it means even more to him. Quite impressive, dude.

8 Years, 8 Hours, 8 Minutes

A scenic spot for a stick chewing break

My best friend, Scot the Border Collie, turned 8 years old on May 8th. He doesn't know that, but I figured since our favorite thing is long trail runs, what could be a better celebration for both of us. I needed a good long run for the upcoming Jemez 50 miler, and Scot thinks EVERY day should be spent running ALL day.
    So I loaded up the pack with provisions and we left the house right at noon. I packed the headlamp just in case, which was good, because we needed it. We ran the 3.5 miles from the house to the trailhead, then up the Dry Fork trail to the Colorado Trail. I had planned on roughly eight hours of running, however far that got us. There was less snow than I anticipated (a lot has melted since going up there last week) and we made good time to the bridge over Junction Creek. Past that there were a few creek crossings, some cool cascades, and then this amphitheater with a nice little waterfall. Good stuff. I wanted to keep going... for days. Maybe to Denver.
    Luckily the sensible part of me said turn around about 4 hours and 30 minutes into it. We cruised the fast gentle downhill back to the bridge, and then started the looong climb back out of the creek drainage. Then it was back downhill towards Dry Fork. This is where I started to hurt. I wondered if this was too far for a training run less than two weeks from Jemez. I wondered if I was damaging myself. Then I thought about Hardrock. "It is going to be so much harder and more painful than this!" I told myself. Even if it means my ego will suffer from running slow at Jemez, the training is all about Hardrock. I love having a big goal. It adds importance to stupid little things, like which socks to wear.
   As we cruised down the Dry Fork trail Scot was still sprinting every time he heard a Chicory squirrel. He HATES that sound. I could barely shuffle and he's sprinting! Maybe if I had four legs and only weighed 40 pounds ultras wouldn't hurt so much. I was carrying his food for him, I suppose.
   So we hit the gravel road and I put on the headlamp. Only three and a half miles, mostly downhill, and we can eat copious amounts of food! As we got to the parking area of our house I hit the stop button on the watch. 8:08.37 it read. Eight years old on the eighth, and we ran for eight hours and eight minutes. We were actually out for nine hours, but 8:08 was the "moving time" the rest being spent doing trail work, refilling water, and taking photos.
   As we laze around this morning I feel pretty good for having done about 37 miles yesterday. Scot looks to be doing even better though. He is the athlete I always wanted to be. Strong, focused, and full of enthusiasm. Happy birthday, Scot.     

Views From The Trail

Sometimes the snow is just right..Leah cruising

Hmmm. How do I get there from here?

    I have not had much to say lately, so I'll just post more photos.
Some recommended reading: BECOMING ODYSSA  by Jennifer  Pharr Davis. There is a bit too much God talk for my taste, but I really enjoyed the book. An excerpt: "The trail allowed me to feel a strong sense of freedom. And it helped me to see the oppression of a busy schedule and the way we multitask in civilization. I no longer saw what was civil about filling my life with commitments if I couldn't stop to watch the sunset or listen to the birds sing." 

Another Year

Cross Canyon

Pottery shards. I don't like the term "potsherds", although it is correct

The Ruin Canyon Hilton

Rosie the desert dog is slow to wake up

The annual birthday trip was shorter than usual, but as always MK came up with another interesting spot to visit. Canyon of the Ancients is a seldom visited area straddling the Colorado-Utah border. We only got two days and two nights there, but we didn't see another person the whole time. We managed a couple good runs  along with some exploring of a few ruins. My lady, our dogs, and no one else for miles. If I have to keep getting older, that's the way I want to spend my time.

Sweet Home Alabama

Mom and Kit the wonder dog

The Walls Of Jericho

TV is bad for young dogs

I took a trip back home last month to visit family. It was very relaxing. I was able to go for a trail run every day, and hang out with my family the rest of the time. I ran on trails that I spent so much of my youth exploring. The trails seem so much shorter, and the mountains so much smaller, but there is a certain beauty in the Southeast that I took for granted as a kid. The trees and rocks of that area are so infused with memories that around every corner was glimpse of how I came to be who I am today. I am lucky to have such an smart, nutty, and supportive family. I never felt like I belonged in Alabama. In many ways Colorado feels more like "home". I do, however, feel right at home with my relatives. There is no doubt where I came from and how I was influenced. I feel the love and support all the way out here in the San Juan mountains. Come visit sometime... It's beautiful!