Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Just Plain Tough

I ran the Plain 100. It was difficult.

Plain may be the first 100-miler I had ever heard of in the sense that I actually knew anyone who ran it. My ultra/grad school mentor ZG ran it back in '04 or '05 and not only did he win it, he was the first person to finish it in several years. Plain runs quite a bit under the radar due to its length (108 miles) and absence of any course markings or aid stations. That's right, no aid stations, and no course markings. Less than a month after running a 24-hour rogaine that has the same conditions, that might not seem like a huge deal, but compared to standard hundred mile races, it is. Also note that in my rogaine, I covered a whopping 44 miles without aid or course markings.

The other major issue with Plain is that it a very high percentage of the course is on motorbike trails. Motorbike trails are unpleasant to run on for several reasons:
  • Pavement. To prevent erosion, trail maintainers lay concrete paving stones. So you're basically running on a concrete sidewalk instead of a regularly cushioned trail. 
  • Waves. Motorcycles create waves in the trail. Irregular 2-3 foot undulating waves in the trail as often as every dozen yards. I bet on a dirtbike it feels like pure joy, but running the waves, it's painful on the knees and impossible to find a rhythm.
  • Ditches. When the trail isn't paved, the dirtbikes carve a narrow ditch in the trail, somewhat similar to horses or stock in muddy season. The ditch can get to be waste deep, and the sides can be banked. Running it, you have to try and put each foot directly in front of the other in the dead center of the ditch, which is not at all normal running form.
  • Circuitous. Motorbikes love lazy 'S' turns that don't go anywhere. Runners don't.
Anyway, the course is essentially a figure eight, with a 62-mile loop and a 45 mile loop. There are no aid stations, so you need to carry all your food and get water from natural sources, except that you can get whatever assistance you like at the dropbag station (i.e. your car, the start/finish, also the center of the figure eight). There are no course markings, so unless you've done it before, you need to carry a map and course directions. This isn't Barkley, so there's nothing off trail, and trail junctions are generally well-marked, but it's by the Forest Service for general use unrelated to the course.

I enjoyed the first loop. I started out in the back of the pack because I ran back a few minutes after the start to grab extra rain gear (a trash bag for emergency extra warmth) from the car, but I caught up with the mid-packers after 7-10 miles. A surprising number of us hung together for the next 10-20 miles. This year there were fewer than 30 runners who started the 100 mile race (there's also a 100K race that consists of just the first loop), but there were 5 of us running together briefly. Compare this to one of the guys I carpooled with who ran for 24 hours in the latter portion of the race without seeing a single other runner, which is more the norm for Plain.

The reward for a 4,400 foot climb in the wind and rain

The weather was rainy, windy, and quite cold during most of the day Saturday, but the course was pretty, and it started to mellow out Saturday night. I got back to the car at 11:30PM, cooked some ramen, and left at midnight.

The second loop was brutal. The motorcycle waves made me pretty miserable, and I started doing under 3mph. I was running on empty. I'd listened to all the podcasts I was excited about, and when Terry Gross started talking about how to train your cat, I had had enough. But as soon as I turned it off, my mind started getting loopy, I started imagining weird house-warming party scenarios on repeat in my brain, and I slowed way down. I found a dry spot under a tree and took a dirtnap by the side of the trail, but another runner came up behind me and woke me up with some sort of comment about hypothermia. I popped up, said "No, I won't!" and left him behind on the rest of the climb. I finally remembered I hadn't caffeinated, so I took a pill and started to come back to life.

The morning was still rough, however. I was doing 23-minute miles, and kept doing the math to try and figure out if 3mph would get me in under the 36-hour cutoff. I was 80 to 90 miles in, with 20-30 to go, and that 7-10 hours remaining was not sounding good. Mostly I thought of how I had better finish so that I would never have to come back to this race.

It was a bit hard to appreciate how pretty it was on Sunday
Finally, after learning how to train a cat and having the bejeezus scared out of me by a Forest Service guy minding his own business standing by the trail while some weirdo in a trance staring at the ground trudged by him, the last climb ended and the trail dropped steeply down the mountain at mile 92. I was able to make up time with some 4-5 mph stretches set to the tunes of Ratatat.

I reached the bottom with about 2.5 hours left and seven annoying motorcycle miles to go, and finally shuffled across the finish line in 35 hours and 16 minutes. [Results]
In retrospect I'm glad I did it, and of course glad I toughed it out. I think I might recommend people do the 100K instead of the 100-miler, since the course is quite pretty, and the organizers are quite nice. However, the second loop and all the concrete really just seemed like I lucked out not getting a stress fracture in my foot or some sort of IT band issue like happened at Zion last year. Or maybe I'm just saying that because it may have been the hardest race I've ever run.

If you want to watch how my whining increased and pace decreased, I filmed a little bit every 10 miles or so:

Friday, September 09, 2016


Modoc. I went to Modoc. I don't have any time to tell you about it.

Fine. Very briefly, Amy worked there for the Forest Service fifteen years ago, and she loves it. For her birthday and Labor Day weekend we airbnb'd a place across the border in Nevada, practiced the banjo, watched Stranger Things, hiked in the Warner Mountains, and got frustrated with George for ignoring us and chasing rabbits until he decided he was thirsty.

If you're in the area, I highly recommend an end-to-end hike of the Summit Trail in the South Warner Wilderness.
View from the cabin
Just enough clearance
Lassen across Lake Almaden

Rogaining to Victory

I did my first rogaine a weekend or so ago, and I guess I won. [See results. Also, editorial note: Read what the hell a rogaine is. Then come back.]

If you want to hear it from me instead of Wikipedia, it's an endurance orienteering event where you get to pick your route to numerous assigned locations with different point values to maximize your score within the allotted time.

The event was held in Sierra National Forest a few miles east of Shaver Lake. Shaver Lake is on HWY 168 east of Fresno on your way up to Lake Edison or Florence Lake. To me it's a bit of a shame to drive up HWY 168 and stop so far from the high country that lies beyond, but it was still reasonably pretty terrain if you ignore the fact that California is a giant fireball waiting to happen. Seriously, do you remember that one time you were planning to go camping and have a campfire, and you set up camp, only you realized you forgot the firewood, but then realized that a previous camper left a old dead Christmas tree right next to the fire pit? That is California.

Since rogaining is a team sport, team Super Happy Fun Ball consisted of me and JC, who I'd never actually met before, but was a friend of a friend. I think we'd both independently asked said friend (BF) if he wanted to be our teammate, and he suggested we just pair up ourselves, so we did. Despite not knowing each other and despite my usual grumpiness at 2AM (at all times of day and night, regardless of circumstances, you say) I think it went reasonably well.

I had a fun time, but I think I'll stick with books-in-the-woods races. I like having to look for old crappy trail, and having to carry a compass and a map, but I prefer running to hiking. I don't mind having to count steps or count contour lines a little bit, but in moderation. When I look at contour lines, I want it to be to quickly determine whether a route goes, not to count lines, do math, and estimate how many steps it should be until I find something.

Anyway, here are some photos. I have to get to work.

Sunday, August 21, 2016

Everyone Flakes

As a general rule. Which is why I typically don't go out of my way to organize group, or even pair running or camping events, but I just did two in a row, and they were great. Maybe even three if you count AC, and maybe four if my orienteering (Rogaine) race with a partner next week comes off. And then Amy and I are traveling the weekend after that, so I guess I'm a regular socialite. Forget those decades of self-proclaimed misanthropy, you were misinformed, dear reader.

Anyway, Steve-o is going off to intern at the White House Council of Economic Advisors. Fancy! So we went camping. He held up quite respectably for a non-runner. Which is to say we hiked 26 miles on Saturday, mostly together except for a few at the end. Sunday we split up and I ran 24 more, while he did a short hike on his own.

Saturday was in the eastern portion of Carson-Iceberg, up Wolf Creek and down the Carson River. Wolf Creek was only OK, but the High Trail above the Carson had some pretty great views. Granted, N=2, but both times I've been to this area, it's been fairly hot.
Wolf Creek

Saturday after we finished, we went into Markleeville for some ice and Gatorade, over Monitor Pass down to 395, and then started back west up 108. We camped at the Leavitt Meadows Campground. Of course paying to camp makes me feel like a failure, but it did make for easy access to the trailhead in the morning. I ran south up the West Walker, looped around the Chain of Lakes, and came back. There were nice views of distant peaks to the south.
Leavitt Meadows

This weekend I managed another 54, this time with my grad school and trail running mentor ZG. A decade ago he had some amazing races (4th place at Hardrock), and he has more fun getting scratched to hell on incredibly steep slopes while lost than any non Euchre Bar or Barkley vet I know, but he's basically coming off the couch. So he hung in there, and I wasn't really any faster than him, but he was definitely done, while George and I could have done some more.

Saturday we started from near the Underwood Valley Trailhead on the 7N93 that's on the way to the Bear Valley Ski Resort. (Note: 4x4 vehicles only if you want to get past the Sno-Park lot that's on the paved road. We saw a handful of other trucks, and Alice was the only one with extra clearance, but I was happy to have it.) The loop I designed dropped way down to the North Fork of the Mokelumne, climbed abandoned Tahoe Yosemite Trail up to the dirt road that's the wilderness boundary on the back side of Kirkwood (9N82), to Munson Meadow, back down to the North Fork, then back up to the car. It's a doozey.

Yep, that's a forest fire.

Climb 1 done. Top of Horse Canyon.

Drop down to the bottom and climb up the opposite side.

He loves it, I promise.

Almost back to the top.

It wasn't quite 40 miles, but it was a hell of a loop. 9,500 feet of climbing. Really good views of the North Fork, which I didn't realize had such steep walls. (I also didn't realize the Mokelumne Tetons were a thing.) The TYT trail still can be followed thanks to cairns, but it trail tread is basically non-existent, and I had the map on the Forest Service baselayer GPS map to follow, which is basically cheating. The views from the top were great as well. You get very close to the back side of Kirkwood, and though it is a 4x4 road, we didn't see any vehicle traffic. The whole day we saw a nice mix of users: two bow hunters, one mountain biker, three backpackers, and some cowboys moving cattle to higher ground.

The trail down from Munson Meadow is actually in worse shape, and ripped our legs up. I would advise against going up that--manzanita and other chaparall brush grows downslope and you just step on top of it rather than fighting against it uphill.

Sunday's run was a quicky from Pacific Valley. 14 miles up Bull Run Creek, cross country to avoid what seemed like a pointless descent to Spicer Meadow Reservoir, up Weiser Creek, down Marshall Canyon, and back.

Really nice bowl at the head of Pacific Creek