tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40540966291759802972024-03-05T02:32:58.769-08:00Zac CarterZachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13601169801151932681noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054096629175980297.post-48910409048067194772013-11-25T12:37:00.000-08:002013-11-25T12:37:33.883-08:00Tanzania<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQp1xZRWkHAlOeef3uB-6qFeaw0OREHCqCPSdysA4d1Pzsag_2bdCXD9Jl488RFe5_sKIcskTHaFo2Re9XYlv8635TJlLmd_9JNz4IzUymUHovhb-BU5zPYrTLJ4QhqggoSnoR4Q845OY/s1600/elephant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQp1xZRWkHAlOeef3uB-6qFeaw0OREHCqCPSdysA4d1Pzsag_2bdCXD9Jl488RFe5_sKIcskTHaFo2Re9XYlv8635TJlLmd_9JNz4IzUymUHovhb-BU5zPYrTLJ4QhqggoSnoR4Q845OY/s320/elephant.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">An adventure in Africa was the final item on a bucket list of items I left my job at DreamWorks to pursue. After an IronMan triathlon in New Zealand, a road trip up through California to compete in my 3rd Wildflower half IronMan and visit my best friend in Humboldt, a barrage of training days preparing for a first attempt at a 100 mile trail run at the San Diego 100, a surfing trip to Nicaragua, the ultimately failed attempt at the 100 miler, a trip to Colorado for the Leadville marathon, which I ended up not running for fear of worsening the condition that plagued me at the SD100, hiking the John Muir trail from Yosemite to Whitney Portal, a road trip across the midwest from SoCal to Bishop, through lake Mono to Bridgeport, cycling up Tioga Pass to Toulomne meadows, driving across Nevada and Utah to Moab and Arches National Park, checking out Mesa and Vail, Colorado, Escalante and Bryce, Utah, to Lake Tahoe, CA to volunteer at the first IronMan there, finally a trip to Africa was the last item on my list of to-dos. The plan was to spend 1 month, flying into Nairobi, Kenya, busing to Kilimanjaro to climb the highest mountain in Africa, then relax in the warmth of Zanzibar island, and spend a week on safari in the Serengeti and Ngorongoro. </span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-2e037f29-90ee-f8f8-00e0-d335b5d6a466" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On Thursday September 29, 2 days before my best friend’s wedding and 3 days before my scheduled departure to Tanzania for an African mountain climbing and Safari adventure, a simple accident left me in the hospital with two lost teeth, a broken shoulder, a bloodied nose, two black eyes, and an upper body that was shocked into crippling tightness and pain. I was out on an overnight backpacking trip with the upcoming wedding’s groom-to-be and a mutual friend, and his dog. We were en-route to an old camping spot where there was a hot spring in the Sespe wilderness. A beautiful cool night with a nearly full moon, we were more than halfway to the camping sight when I broke into a run ahead of my friends and fell face first into the ground. I didn’t understand what happened to me until I woke up hours later in my sleeping bag right next to the sight of the accident. My friends had helped me get into my bag and we slept it out right there on the trail until sunrise.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At first I was, not without fear, committed to making the trip to Africa at the scheduled time. I had already invested at least $6,000 in the trip. I had purchased an insurance policy on the flight, but not for the mountain expedition or the safari. The latter were both non-refundable and could not be rescheduled (officially). </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There were two of us going, myself and Cynthie Cuno. She had also suffered a crippling injury to her ligaments around her ankle at he beginning of the month, but was resolved to suffer through it and make the mountain expedition at the originally scheduled time. I was less willing to take risks with my injuries, so we submitted a claim for the insurance on our flight, bought new tickets, were graciously re-scheduled by G adventures free of charge to change the date of the Kilimanjaro climb to 3 weeks later, skipped going to Kenya, and flew instead right into Kilimanjaro to start the Safari on the originally scheduled date of October 14. I was a little bit relieved to be skipping the sight of the mall shooting in Nairobi only 1 week prior.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On October 12 we were off. A short walk to the subway and a train to Union Station, then a flyaway shuttle to LAX and we embarked on a 28 hour airplane Odyssey that ended with a ride into Kilimanjaro airport where I sat next to a local mountain guide who had been vacationing in the Alps in Germany. His name was Othuman and he said he had completed the Kilimanjaro trek in as few as 17 hours, at the request of two clients he had a while back. I decided that one day I would come back and hire him to get me up and down that mountain in a single day.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Othuman got us a reduced fare ride from the airport into Arusha, where we checked into our hotel. Along the way we noted the proliferation of vodacom and coca cola signs. It’s amazing how Coca Cola has influence everywhere I’ve been in the world. A little bit disheartening how the Western capitalism has infiltrated this place, to the point where it is more prolific than any kind of local business. The unemployment rate is high here at around 70%. There are tons of people walking the streets in the towns, going about their days and trying to make a living. Our guides say this is the way of life they are used to here. It’s not that the people are in famine. In fact, most of them are well dressed and healthy looking. Well fed. The crime rate is reportedly low, and while they will acost tourists with great gusto attempting to sell their goods and services, they don’t seem to pose a theft threat, or any other kind of threat.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Outpost Lodge was a great hotel with a small pool and a nice restaurant that served delicious food at reasonable prices. The beds were draped in mosquito nets and monkeys could be seen outside.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDlrUXxp04JIRQF9gVQzEPLhcTdRYxBA8xx9-HFL5MnNiDH3qzKv9Z_pb1nj6AMSpEvs3SBLqPbVpHElB84McHPVfjt4f3siMkUerkBSWj-5RyM2NxzVLr8Pwjt9mi2LBMTmHJJyvHEOk/s1600/ngorongoro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDlrUXxp04JIRQF9gVQzEPLhcTdRYxBA8xx9-HFL5MnNiDH3qzKv9Z_pb1nj6AMSpEvs3SBLqPbVpHElB84McHPVfjt4f3siMkUerkBSWj-5RyM2NxzVLr8Pwjt9mi2LBMTmHJJyvHEOk/s400/ngorongoro.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ngorongoro Crater</td></tr>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If you haven’t been to the great plains, say Kansas (which I haven’t) then the Serengeti is striking in its expansiveness. It’s the first time I felt like I was in an ocean of land, reaching out as far as the eye could see in all directions. Driving through it, I felt a great sense of satisfaction that I had come to a place worth visiting, vastly different than anyplace I had been before, The land was populated by great herds of zebras and gazelles. Occasionally, families of elephants could be seen lumbering across the great plains far in the distance, like giant boulders crawling along. Giraffe’s stood gracefully and most serenely, chomping on thorny tree brush while birds plucked at their teeth. They are so zen.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyXpKpZHzDrNGpc0AgnC_eK8lEXtXWy9hcDb9HVSo9jvcW1cT2uXL0_vaH2XFAKqlIHFHI_vN-dBvAm8u3fSEdTGyICHrkBCibsgD7PJT-79OBrplnoMG1hk7xt7pTEYLtfkwPEIj2sj8/s1600/giraffe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyXpKpZHzDrNGpc0AgnC_eK8lEXtXWy9hcDb9HVSo9jvcW1cT2uXL0_vaH2XFAKqlIHFHI_vN-dBvAm8u3fSEdTGyICHrkBCibsgD7PJT-79OBrplnoMG1hk7xt7pTEYLtfkwPEIj2sj8/s320/giraffe.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The safari included a short stopover into a Masai village and into their homes. The Masai are the largest remaining tribes people in Tanzania, who still hold on to their old way of life, off the grid, living their nomadic, goat herding lifestyles. You can see their villages as you drive the roads between Arusha and the Serengeti. And the young men walking with their walking sticks, garbed in bright blue or red and walking in their sandals made from old car tires,shepherding their herds. They live in mud/straw huts which are built by the wives. They walk long distances to get water, and have very little in the way of possessions, though we did learn that cell phones are becoming popular to have, if for no other reason than the novelty of being able to call a friend.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPrmOVY9HHM4taiGArTb-_VTH-CyVA1T8fzZiaRkBC-v0eS0dZ8JQeyt3shJPiY2BGLkXwcVkiUiMnHmp37KKM7m2GFs_TLSWkowk2kzxeXwWCHey920MJe2jUQZuTKUyllKg0_0mqg3s/s1600/lionZebraFeast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center; white-space: normal;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPrmOVY9HHM4taiGArTb-_VTH-CyVA1T8fzZiaRkBC-v0eS0dZ8JQeyt3shJPiY2BGLkXwcVkiUiMnHmp37KKM7m2GFs_TLSWkowk2kzxeXwWCHey920MJe2jUQZuTKUyllKg0_0mqg3s/s400/lionZebraFeast.jpg" width="300" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After safari, we flew from Kilimanjaro to Zanzibar, a quick 1 hour plane ride into warm tropical paradise and one of the world’s greatest sources of spices. I was constantly delighted throughout the trip at how great the food was. I realized why so much of Western Europe’s history has to do with the import of spices from places like Africa. They make food so much more exciting, and in East Africa they have a great selection of spices which they use to delectable effect. We went on tour of one of the spice farms on Zanzibar island, and on the one farm, so no fewer than all of the following: nutmeg, cardamon, jackfruit, coconut, vanilla bean, lemongrass, cacao, ginger, cloves, lipstick, turmeric, iodine, saffron and others. We stayed in stone town, which is the commercial center and capital of the island nation. It was a bustling small town right on the water’s edge, with tons of shops and cafes. We stayed only three nights, but that felt like enough to take in the atmosphere in town, and take a 1-day sailing trip out to one of the smaller surrounding islands, for snorkeling (some of the best I’ve done) and swimming in very warm, clear water.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVbmoqDar-9IG3yf6q53ggDrB6AnxASV2_EoZ6CvsN8c0fqHhYjIB6lVGAq4nP0fmpSLNV5n0TTlh2_l8HMtp2mS7RaaQcPXOBDiRjfGFzBXc7JB9xY-PTdbjeuV9qIjcVz_TRo2sC0IE/s1600/zanzibarWater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVbmoqDar-9IG3yf6q53ggDrB6AnxASV2_EoZ6CvsN8c0fqHhYjIB6lVGAq4nP0fmpSLNV5n0TTlh2_l8HMtp2mS7RaaQcPXOBDiRjfGFzBXc7JB9xY-PTdbjeuV9qIjcVz_TRo2sC0IE/s320/zanzibarWater.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtvkUxdhJO6YZJlj6f8BeaLrIX5CPptdHVt9x_2PdS3kw7hP9LlUnEj73I_s4MOrDe1TcMstMEvMPzRujnzVgS8U9gY2GVqgXmf1E0dQxDRBFajdzS2kDupjjITNNOZtfoHWfeGHYKPnI/s1600/zanzibarBoats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtvkUxdhJO6YZJlj6f8BeaLrIX5CPptdHVt9x_2PdS3kw7hP9LlUnEj73I_s4MOrDe1TcMstMEvMPzRujnzVgS8U9gY2GVqgXmf1E0dQxDRBFajdzS2kDupjjITNNOZtfoHWfeGHYKPnI/s320/zanzibarBoats.jpg" width="320" /></a><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After 4 days on Zanzibar, we had a longer trip through Dar Es Salaam back to Kilimanjaro airport, and a 35km taxi drive to the town of Moshi, at the foot of Kilimanjaro. We stayed along a rough dirt road across from a German built railway which used to carry coffee from Moshi for export from Dar Es Salaam. The staff at the hotel seemed to outnumber guests and were incredibly friendly and helpful. They wanted us to learn to greet each other in Swahili, so were always greeting us in that way, with big smiles on their faces. We had 2 days to relax and prepare for the central purpose of our trip, which was to climb the highest mountain in Africa. We passed the time walking around town, and enjoying the chocolate covered coconut Bounty bars, and Stoney Tangawizi Coca Cola drink, a strong ginger soda which is delicious and only available in East Africa, and costs only 600 shillings at one location we identified (1600 shillings was $1 in US currency).</span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijsqenfwy8WkIWqMxyjpdzk_DEson9hMSyxSob70H4WjLP_pviCv2D7CmTtjHBh-SrVfDn8ZBPfgiA8DGttIY2n0AdZMNlx-ed5mqv3DCqfpY8U78YheqvNP4UlLvM2yLCkY7JCXFldEk/s1600/stoneTown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijsqenfwy8WkIWqMxyjpdzk_DEson9hMSyxSob70H4WjLP_pviCv2D7CmTtjHBh-SrVfDn8ZBPfgiA8DGttIY2n0AdZMNlx-ed5mqv3DCqfpY8U78YheqvNP4UlLvM2yLCkY7JCXFldEk/s320/stoneTown.jpg" width="320" /></a><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We did poorly to understand the trips we had booked before we came, because the safari and the mountain expedition each ended up being 1 day shorter than we expected, so our 8-day Machame route up and down Kilimanjaro ended up being a 7 day trip, but only 6 of those days are spent walking on the mountain. It was the 2nd hardest of several routes up the mountain, and included some climbing that required you to use your hands. The walking begins low underneath dense jungle inhabited by monkeys and ravens. The vegetation becomes alien as you ascend out from the jungle into the alpine forests. You ascend up to and then above cloud level, with the glacier capped peak always towering above you. We stayed behind our guides, who set what sometimes felt like an abysmally slow pace. For days the locals in Moshi had been telling us to Pole Pole (slowly slowly) up the mountain, so I resolved to adhere to their slow pace in hopes it would save me for the highest altitudes. It was my intention to complete the trip without taking any altitude medications.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At some point around 12,000 feet, two days before making the final push for the top, I felt the sense of awe and beauty and satisfaction at being on a high mountain always brings. This is the best time of the trip for me, when you are already there, looking up and seeing how much farther and how unfathomable it looks to get to the top, passed those imposing vertical cliffs on the front side. The air thins, the sunlight burns, and your breathing labors, and you have the excitement of the unknown ahead of you. We had it easy because the porters carried all of our supplies for us on their heads, walking up at 3 times our pace ahead of us to set up our tents and cook us dinner. The only thing I could really complain about was how incredibly dusty it is up there. The volvanic rock polverizes down to a very fine powder that permeates through everything on the mountain, and you can never keep clean while on the mountain.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNjYj-veHy44TSkMqqzQ39VYeVcQ6aX6bMmyvcZAahV7SrOHzsKebcscHZsEHNT_AAk-03SqOOsZeCSqPoWfwOdg-r6ycJUDjD9dHWU6GqXF4N9ep6Wyhf7scL6JPnc3H30EMmFWscTwc/s1600/KiliGroup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; white-space: normal;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNjYj-veHy44TSkMqqzQ39VYeVcQ6aX6bMmyvcZAahV7SrOHzsKebcscHZsEHNT_AAk-03SqOOsZeCSqPoWfwOdg-r6ycJUDjD9dHWU6GqXF4N9ep6Wyhf7scL6JPnc3H30EMmFWscTwc/s400/KiliGroup.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The final push began after the 4th day of walking. Going to bed at around 6:30pm, at a base camp of around 16,000 feet, it was a fiercely windy night, violently flapping at the walls of your tent that you wake up in at 11pm. After a snack, hiking begins in a long congo line of mountaineers with headlamps on at 12 midnight. With temperatures at 0 F, and a wind chill down to perhaps -15 F, it is very cold while you ascend, ever so slowly, up a very steep mountain, under a blanket of outrageous stars, another ocean of lights in the towns below, and a dark ominous void blacking out the sky in front of you, that is the mountain. It became difficult around 17,000 ft, such that taking 5 steps would have me wanting to stop and take 3 or 4 deep breaths before taking another 5 steps. It was so cold and windy, water in our bottles froze and when we took periodic rest stops, I would begin to shiver even underneath my 3 layers of thermal underwear, polyester base layer and wind proof outer shells. A balaclava covered my mouth and nose. The hours ticked by ever so slowly, we seemed to climb forever in the dark, until the sky finally began to lighten after 5 hours of walking, and I knew the sun was coming. It did so about an hour before we made the summit. It was warmer and strikingly beautiful, but I was getting a slight headache and worrying about the descent. Making the summit itself was like finishing an ultramarathon. I ran the last 100 yards and we cried at the top. It was different from how I felt summiting other mountains like Whitney, but more intense. The descent was the most awesome thing - a loose lava rock covered, 45 degree slope which you could basically ski down with reckless abandon on your boots, kicking up dust, for 2,000 ft. What took 7 hours to go up, was undone in little over 90 minutes.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Due to rapid recovery and the delay in the trip, I pretty much was not bothered at all by my injuries during the climb. Even my gums were healed to the point where I could eat solid food comfortably without use of my false teeth. I was much more concerned for Cynthie, because she wasn’t even close to healed yet in her foot, and was shrieking in pain from time to time just walking short distances in the towns before we even started the mountain trek. The way that the ascent of the mountain is designed, we hike up to a high point during the course of a day, and then descend 1,000 ft or so to a lower camp, where we acclimatize. While Cynthie was handling the uphill very well and keeping up with the group, she was lagging behind on the descents and arriving at camp in great distress. It was incredible to me to think that she would have to descend from 19,300 ft down to less than 4,000 ft on foot. Even my knees and feet hurt making that descent. So, it is with awe and great relief that Cynthie made the summit at the same time I did, and descended the entire mountain with the group on her own 2 feet.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFdhPexg1hQrW1vQECEeLqODE1PLhwxNxEbO4njluqOSoFxz1bO7BYpffhp2FxUryv_7YBJYp0Y288CEVHoKWPtfi9SgQccBGiWoZFIAo8akmXPSQAdM0ZhTyU4rO0zsaw-EnlAK55bq0/s1600/summitIcey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; white-space: normal;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFdhPexg1hQrW1vQECEeLqODE1PLhwxNxEbO4njluqOSoFxz1bO7BYpffhp2FxUryv_7YBJYp0Y288CEVHoKWPtfi9SgQccBGiWoZFIAo8akmXPSQAdM0ZhTyU4rO0zsaw-EnlAK55bq0/s400/summitIcey.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The safari and the mountain trek were group tours organized by G Adventures. I am so grateful for this company’s great work, and that both our groups were composed of such friendly people. The safari and the mountain were both about 12 person groups, with different people each time. We made friends with everybody and the experience in their company was fantastic, I couldn’t imagine doing it without them, they multiplied the enjoyment of it all, with their stories and observations and shared experience. They came from all over, in the UK, Canada, USA, Australia, mainland Europe and Asia, and it so delighted me to make these international friends.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbBHWQ4cSrOCvMps1Iol5c6_QYl6-2U7LW2oasJPe0UuQ2VEi9lIOKR6UluMID9gjvWCXQoCJyJEyb9OEPxY9m_hhw2i6HsX4J3P7SeeuAts2kT2oclUiFYdGesQkzqIdB0F7msSVr3j8/s1600/nutmeg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbBHWQ4cSrOCvMps1Iol5c6_QYl6-2U7LW2oasJPe0UuQ2VEi9lIOKR6UluMID9gjvWCXQoCJyJEyb9OEPxY9m_hhw2i6HsX4J3P7SeeuAts2kT2oclUiFYdGesQkzqIdB0F7msSVr3j8/s320/nutmeg.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fresh Nutmeg on Zanzibar</td></tr>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gendi, a trainee server at the Zara (Springlands) hotel, wrote down for me the lyrics of the Kilimanjaro song:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jamo, Jambo Brana, </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">habari gani, nzuri sana</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">wageni, mwakerishura</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">kilimanjaro, hakuna matata</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ukiende Uhuru, hakuna matata</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the company of lions, and the top of Africa, Kilimanjaro summit at 19,300 feet, it was the journey of a lifetime.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_FoodKsrrwX0gSIEjsY2lRd7LwBRF1N5QgCotnrmHPMdQUsG8sJCfjoy8jNs_QuSFMlTUUXbATHOB0AKnDyESaus0tDM14B3X5Hua3BEcFgHlTPxkx2CnDyFuVx9mk7-NhIE2Cn0W3Js/s1600/SunsetSerengeti.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; white-space: normal;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_FoodKsrrwX0gSIEjsY2lRd7LwBRF1N5QgCotnrmHPMdQUsG8sJCfjoy8jNs_QuSFMlTUUXbATHOB0AKnDyESaus0tDM14B3X5Hua3BEcFgHlTPxkx2CnDyFuVx9mk7-NhIE2Cn0W3Js/s1600/SunsetSerengeti.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sun setting on the Serengeti</td></tr>
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Zachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13601169801151932681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054096629175980297.post-69491032232513132042013-10-09T12:30:00.000-07:002013-10-09T12:30:32.542-07:00Running Injuries<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Running injury has been the bane of my ambitions for as long as I can remember. It's a frustrating problem. There are people out there who run 100-200 miles every week and don't run into injury. For some reason I keep running into it, in one form or another. There are those who will say that some people are naturally predisposed to these kinds of problems, while others are born to run without issues. While this certainly may be true, it is counter to the stubborn attitude that makes me an ultra runner to just accept it. I'm determined to find some way to run often and run far and not fall into injury. This feels like a daunting goal, and I struggle to believe in it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As recently as 10 years ago I never thought about running form. I wore cotton socks and big heeled shoes and heel struck as I ran on pavement with long lumbering stride and developed shin splints. to the days post reading Born to Run, when I was lead to believe and hope that running could be enjoyed injury free by going back to the way we were born to run, barefoot and forefoot striking, with short steps and high cadence and relaxing into it. I was not alone in the misdirection suffered from this dream. So many who bought and tried running in vibram five finger running shoes continued to heel strike in them, or piled on too many miles too soon and developed metatarsal micro fractures and top of foot pain, trading the old shin splints for new kinds of injury. I think we failed to realize that the Tarahumara and African and Greek barefoot runners lived their lives throughout childhood and into adulthood walking and running barefoot, developing a body capable of running long distance in minimal footwear over so many years. To hope that we could get there swiftly by kicking off our modern shoes was perhaps a bit naive.</span></span></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-1ab3d816-9e9a-2813-0023-2e11d8d240e0" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Even so, I learned that the minimal method was not ideal for speed, especially in running down hill. Running shoes allow me to bomb down steep hills with ease and disregard for so many of the little technical footfalls which slow me way down when running barefoot or in minimal attire. I conceded that shoes and socks were much better in cold and dry winter conditions, when otherwise one's skin would crack and the cold numbness of the feet I think defeated the purpose of barefoot running altogether: that bio-mechanical feedback from all those sensitive nerves in the feet. Frozen or numb feet don’t provide feedback.</span></span></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I was willing to strap on the bulky running shoes but I still believed one should be able to run long and run pain and injury free if one ran with the correct form, ate healthy and rested and paid attention to their body and avoided running in pain. Perhaps I was not patient enough in allowing my body to recover completely from the miles I put it through, which of course I did without any kind of structured training regimen. I simply ran as much as I wanted, when and how I wanted. But I believe I did so judiciously, always considering the mantra that I run today in order to run again tomorrow. I do not run to destroy myself.</span></span></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I ran and I prepared to run 100 miles, running not more than 50-60 miles per week, not less than 20. But I toed the starting line already doomed because I’d developed a knee injury that would trouble me in the first mile and degrade gradually from there. I still have this knee problem, and I think it is a symptom of something I’ve suffered from all throughout my running and cycling life but ignored until now. I feel it and it causes problems on the bike as well. 4 months later I'm still not passed this. I've almost not run at all, a fact that is unbearable considering I left my job at DreamWorks primarily so that I could enjoy a year of running through beautiful places across the States and the world, and I haven't been able to do it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've seen my doctor, physical therapist, active release therapy/chiropractor and massage therapists to various degrees of success. I've employed self massage and foam rolling to great lengths, given myself time of, focused on dozens of kinds of stretches and exercises, yet I still suffer from this problem. So far, a massage therapist who worked on me in Moab, Utah had the most success in returning me to a good running condition, where I almost didn't notice my knee, but it hasn't lasted. I'm scared that expensive massage therapy may be the only solution to my problem, but it's no guarantee itself. When my problem returned, I went to another massage therapist but they weren't successful in replicating the magic that I got in Moab.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's disconcerting that even when I walk I notice the imbalance in my stride. My chiropractor, Dr. Choy, and everyone else I've seen doesn't think I have any problem with my knee, it's simply the site the pain that results in repetitive use while I have some kind of muscle imbalance going on. It could be that my psoas muscles in my ride side pull my right hip up a little higher than the left. It doesn't seem to matter what shoes I'm wearing, or whether I am wearing them at all. I experience the imbalance in walking and running mechanics and the pain in my knee whether I am barefoot or in shoes or my Luna sandals. I'm at the point that I am becoming desperate and considering quitting all running for half a year or so to see if I get back to balanced form. I'm thinking I'll take up nordic skiing in the winter.</span></div>
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Zachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13601169801151932681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054096629175980297.post-54723078769608388572013-08-12T16:01:00.000-07:002013-08-12T16:02:48.062-07:00John Muir Trail<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My John Muir trail experience was 21 days, or 17 days of hiking, from Yosemite Valley to Whitney Portal, with a summit of Mt. Whitney, and zero days at Vermillion Valley Resort during the smoke, and Muir Trail Ranch, between July 17 and August 8, 2013. This was over two hundred miles of trekking that introduced me to life in the high Sierras on a drought year, and led me to cross paths with so many people: Scott and his nephews, Matt Brisbin my DWA coworker, Vince (the Bergschrund guy and his son), Hike Alone Bobby, Snort the PCT girl and Jackass the PCT cook at Vermillion, Fabrienne, Ricky, Gary, Will, Drew, Raleigh Martin the Yahoo JMT group moderator, Jeremy and Chris who gave me food when I was running low and encouraged me to finish when I thought I might quit, Emile the uber fast climber from France and Gerard the dental student and Nordic ski instructor and ultra runner from Andora, who knows Kilian, and Ralph who gave us a ride from Whitney Portal into Lone Pine, and dozens of others.<br />
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The trip was originally planned to be a 30 day wilderness adventure with my dad, wherein we would take it slow and have several rest (zero) days where we just relaxed and fished in the winderness. The most difficult issue we anticipated was having to carry 14 days of food over 100 miles between Muir Trail Ranch and the finish. The following is a log I kept on my iphone before going to bed each night.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 1 Thursday July 17</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Started our hike from Yosemite valley backpackers campground waking at 6 and walking at 7:30 am in warm temps and clear skies. Did 8 miles total to just passed clouds rest junction on the John muir trail. We ended up getting the permit to start the jmt in Yosemite instead of toulomne so this was a change of plans</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 2 Friday July 19</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Did 8 miles from clouds rest junction to the Echo creek diverge point with jmt. Horrendous mosquitos fir first 1.5 miles then it let up in the dry zone. got some real awesome views of meadows surrounded by granite peaks. Saw marmots, deer, green frogs, butterflies but still no bear. mood improved throughout day as promise of creek or lake swim became evident. Dad kept walking but I knew there was a small lake I wanted to camp at and swim. He thought it was dry but I hiked in and found it and put my pack down and ran after him. Lake had too many snakes and strange larvae for my liking, we found the echo creek to be more inviting and had a good bath and found even better camp site. Pleasant conditions but no trout sightings today.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 3 July 20</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Short 5 mile day mostly down from Sunrise passed Cathedral lakes to the road where we cut about three miles of the trail in favor of a shuttle to resupply point at Tuolomne post office. This helped conserve our weary selves and get valuable recovery time, shower, eat at the cafe and enjoy light showers and thunderstorm while chatting with other hikers and climbers at this major hub. All great people lots of fun and reminds why we are out here. This place is a meca. Ended night with big campfire stories about rock climbing from forest ranger lady. Tomorrow begins the long trek south and our spirits are high if bodies a wee bit sore. 4 days to next resupply at Reds meadow.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 4 July 21 Sunday</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Late start from Tuolomne after cafe breakfast. Slept in since cafe opened at 8, so hike began at 9 am for 7.5 miles through Lyell Canyon toward Donohue pass. Saw lots of trout but after the pool jump thing and the fact we are la on cooking fuel, didn't try to fish. Had to miss a cool high jump into deep water cause of dads "schedule" ugh. Next time I see one I'm going in, and next time I see a trout the tenkara rod is coming out. I did finally get a quick dip in the frigid swiftwaters when we stopped to lunch and also found the first pine tree i could do pull-ups on. Anyway another pretty day, granite peaks over meadows, snow on peaks, rivers snaking through the meadows. Bugs are bad here and I have dozens of mosquito welts. Also my knee is still not 100% nor my ankle, and I have a blister problem due t what might be bad fit boots. Hoping to buy new boots at mammoth. Dad is in good shape except his swelling legs, which goes up and down very day after hike/sleep. We might get ahead of schedule. Plenty of food I don't think I've let weight yet.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 5 July 22 Monday</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Rain! Lightning and thunder and rain, oh my! We had a 7:30 am start from Lyell forks bridge up to Donohue pass, our first pass and most beautiful scenery yet. It was a cold morning but pleasant for the climb up Donohue, where we met up with the JMT yahoo group people we hung out with them most of the day. Body started feeling better today and it was the best day so far in every way. The descent down Donohue into Ansel Adam territory was easy and beautiful. By early afternoon a storm rolled in and we were hiking into rain and thunder for several miles. Arrived at Island Pass where we have wonderful camp sites along with yahoo group and almost no bugs. I swam in the tarn then noticed a bunch of scary creatures living in the water, none of which are recognizable to any of us. We are at 10000 feet and t storms and rain still coming at us off and on. Just chilling in the tent and eating goji berries. Not sure what tomorrow will bring but feeling good ready to tackle it.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 6 July 23 Tuesday</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Woke early after a calm quiet non stormy night but could see dark clouds looming. We wants out of the rain and a reprieve from the mess of camping so as it began to rain again we began a 9 mile exit route to Agnew and bus to Mammoth mountain town and a hotel night. The whole yahoo group was doing the same. We passed two kids out who had started 2 days after us and been rained on all 4 of their days including being caught on top of Donohue Pass during they storm: they had decided to abandon the trip entirely. We did laundry in town and upon going to dinner noticed smoke smell and an orange sun. There was a fire out in the direction we are heading! Before long ash was falling in town. Not sure yet what this means for us.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 7 July 24 Wednesday</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">6 am wake up at the hotel then breakfast and we had a plan to hike in to a nice spot along the jmt for a 2 night layover, if the fire allowed. News was hard to get but there was no indication we wouldn't be allowed to hike out, though smoke was in the air to the point where all but about a 1 mile radius was obscured visually by smoke. It took us from 7:30 til about 10:30 to get down to reds meadow on public transport, where we picked up our resupply and hit the trail at noon. At this point we broke off ahead of our yahoo friends who were staying the night at reds and we hiked through a section that burned some time ago and had broken stumps from 200 mph winds that went through after. It looked like a disaster zone in the smokey haze but there was new growth and flowers. I pass trout in a stream and broke out the tenkara rod and they hit the fly my first 2 casts but no catch, perhaps because i broke the barbs off the hook, or the fact that i couldn't set the hook in the dense vegetation. I didn't want to cook them today anyway. We got to a camp sight and after some exploring around, settled in. I could tell throughout the day something wasn't right with my dad. He announced abruptly that tomorrow he would hike back to mammoth, his trip over. His foot was oozing blood or some kinda fluid. We always knew this was a potential problem. He has always had these bad foot and leg conditions but it seemed so sudden and heart wrenching for both of us. This was a very hard day.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 8 July 25 Thursday</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">I walk alone. This was a dark day the likes of which I could not have anticipated. It was very hard to watch my dad go, he wanted so badly to walk this trail. We transferred things I would need from his backpack to mine and he headed back to mammoth while I cleaned up camp to keep on going by myself. I walked heavy hearted, very sad. I walked to a point where I asked my dad to let the yahoo friends know I would be if he saw them. I thought I would stay and fish there but there were no fish and it was only like 2.6 miles from the previous camp. I drew a note in the ground and walked we two humboldt university students who came by. We went 2.3 miles to Purple Lake and the smoke started filling the air again. We had lunch and swam in the lake then they continued on. I stayed to fish and make camp, but it started to rain. I had realized during the hike that I didn't take the rain fly for the tent from my dad! This was a nightmare. It rained pea size hail. This happened off and on and I sat alone in a semi dry spot underneath a tree as it hailed and thundered and the smoke filled the air. I have never been in such a somber state. A headache developed I think from the smoke which still severely dampens the environment as I write this. I started to eat some things and look around and think about what I could do about sleeping in the rain and trying to stay dry. My best hope was that the storm would dissipate in the evening as they do here. I tied on a new fly and tried some fishing, and got a big one (for up here) on the line and up near me but this being my first tenkara catch I was not sure what to do and the fish broke free. I got a slightly smaller one 10 minutes later and landed it. I have never killed and cleaned/cooked a fish by myself. It felt sad to hold the fish in my hand knowing it would die. I took a picture of it as it suffocated then got out my knife, cut it up, buried its cuts and rinsed the fillets, cooked them up with some olive oil on my bear can lid and ate it. It was good but needed salt I didn't have. 3 British hikers came by who remembered my dad and I but I couldn't really remember them. They are very nice and I relayed the story about my dad. One later remembered that they had heard one of my yahoo friends calling my name back at duck creek, where my dad was to say that I would be. I hope I will see them in the morning. Then Scott and his nephews came by while I was sitting on a rock by the lake near sundown. My dad and I had talked to Scott several days back at Toulomne an I was struck by his mountain man demeanor and wisdom. This was his 5th jmt traverse and he sleeps under a tarp, no tent. He offered his help about my tent predicament but for now I feel safe that any storms have passed until tomorrow, which he said will also bring rain. Je also said he thought he saw my dad today back in mammoth, but wasnt sure. I think he did and my dad must have gotten back to town. I am ok and still focused, but frazzled and sad and not sure about the tent. Hopeful for dry sunny days. Even harder today than yesterday.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of smoke!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC8T64rQpd6cWtGZi7BVvl3udgcG-wqCrXy6NYYPeDXjNTBIYw44s6DGSFUatD0exnjac3WoFE27yC4-uxRj9EICbximxoXndYOV-RyuHN0Yx0Q8FUbuiqifqrHiIF35iXuma1NXM0o-8/s1600/IMG_2421.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC8T64rQpd6cWtGZi7BVvl3udgcG-wqCrXy6NYYPeDXjNTBIYw44s6DGSFUatD0exnjac3WoFE27yC4-uxRj9EICbximxoXndYOV-RyuHN0Yx0Q8FUbuiqifqrHiIF35iXuma1NXM0o-8/s320/IMG_2421.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBdG2VQmaWC_3k_nLVxC71QN4ru0XRaNx6nOno55bDj3ct6jiU8teGGaxJNDbAVkbWKjxLs_Q8XWML0_FGud6kxLHm_9jvUZyaf_APY_kgPSUpdQD91V8ABE5KlnG3OQKZ5F6Pm-bvRf4/s1600/IMG_2416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBdG2VQmaWC_3k_nLVxC71QN4ru0XRaNx6nOno55bDj3ct6jiU8teGGaxJNDbAVkbWKjxLs_Q8XWML0_FGud6kxLHm_9jvUZyaf_APY_kgPSUpdQD91V8ABE5KlnG3OQKZ5F6Pm-bvRf4/s320/IMG_2416.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPfF6OkzbC60gG6phKwTIi9Q4MARWkB4ZB1qgVm2_1WCYPfx8YRvk8ewPXgx_OIRYXFLZoR5TMjyf6WQVdYVX26GywRmSK9epqsRjKEykXaBrvkiqt_sP5QZqC-vv-K6fBcZ14fsSdOdA/s1600/IMG_2424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPfF6OkzbC60gG6phKwTIi9Q4MARWkB4ZB1qgVm2_1WCYPfx8YRvk8ewPXgx_OIRYXFLZoR5TMjyf6WQVdYVX26GywRmSK9epqsRjKEykXaBrvkiqt_sP5QZqC-vv-K6fBcZ14fsSdOdA/s320/IMG_2424.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 9 July 26 Friday</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">I am writing this two days later due to these last two days being so busy. I woke late and waited for yahoo friends in hopes they would bring news from my dad and maybe the rain fly. They arrived and had seen my dad looking sad and expected to see me at duck creek having never found my sign. We headed off in nice conditions to lake Virginia which was a huge high alpine lake and would have swam but it was too windy/cold. Caught and released a trout, ate snacks and Gary caught up who had a plan to get to Vermillian resort on a shortcut route. This sounded good to me but I do t remember why, other than how it avoided needing to take the shuttle boat on lake Edison, for which I didn't know the schedule. We joined him and became a group of 5 calling ourselves Gary's gang. The smoke thickened as we traveled and soon we had a storm brooding. By mid afternoon we were in the rain. Got as far as pupus lake where I wish we all would have stayed but two of us followed Gary while this British coupled staid put for camp. We continued for Goodale pass in the thunderstorm wet and cold in the direction of the lightning. The pass seemed to climb forever and while I could count to 8 for most lightning/thunder pairs, it got as low as 4 and Fabrienne complained of not being able to go on for feeling sick and lack of energy. I think as soon as we crossed that pass the storm halted and we saw sun. We descended and at this point it was a 13 mile day for me and 15 for them. We ate dinner then decided to find a camp but this proved tricky. All the land was very wet and sloping. We went much farther than we wanted before finding something level enough in what turned out to be called upper graveyard meadows. The smoke was thicker than ever, wet and cold and I felt like I was in the twilight zone. I had slipped into a creek so my boot was soaked and I was miserable going to sleep out there breathing in the smoke and ash. Had no desire to write a log entry. Thank goodness it didn't rain during the night but was damp and dewy and unpleasant. The night was deathly silent except Gary's snoring. The views this day would have been spectacular but i saw only smoke.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Graveyard meadow</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 11 July 28 Sunday</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Zero day at Vermillion. They say you have to lose yourself to find yourself and I think I've sufficiently lost myself on the jmt. I am at the mercy of Mother Nature and am powerless. I don't know what I want now. I don't want to go out into the smoke but there is no sign of it letting up. We thought we had come up with a good plan B this morning but that is up in the air now. Can only wait and see what tomorrow brings. Talked to several PCTers today, they are a peculiar sort but happy and nice people. They have no money but a lot of time on their hands to be rested and hike. One girl (her trail name is Snort) described her pct through hike and said the most stressful days are the zero days when she has to resupply in civilization. The rest is non stressful! I washed dishes in the kitchen for 2.5 hours last night in exchange for free dinner/desert/drink.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 12 July 29 Monday</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Vamos! The smoke is dissipating the sun color is normal and we have a shuttle to get us to Florence lake and out of the worst of it! This all happened this morning after going to bed without a clue. Onward. And it was a shuttle ride through smoke to Florence lake where there was literally a wall of smoke with shangri la on the other side, like when Dorothy stepped from the world of black and white in Kansas into the vibrant color of the world of oz. muir trail ranch was a five mile hike in and is a paradise in the sierras with natural hot springs and great food, dogs and horses roaming and no Mosquitos! Plus, ran into Matt my former coworker from DreamWorks! didnt know if ever would but knew he was also through hiking the jmt. Happy ranch days then on to evolution valley and the last 100 miles of the trip.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 13 July 30 Tuesday</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Wow. a day at Muir Trail Ranch. magical. feels so good to be alive. Woke around 7 in cold clear morning and soaked in a hot 106 degree pool before taking on a huge home cooked breakfast. Then the day was filled lazily with unpacking the resupply, meeting hikers, hanging out with yahoo friends and Matt from DreamWorks, playing fetch with the dogs, washing clothes, reading and chatting in the lounge/library, napping, basking in some warm mud pools across the river. some smoke came back and made for</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">One of the most memorable and picturesque evenings iv ever seen, from sitting below ground level in a hot muddy bubbling pool, gazing over a grassy and flowery meadow at a granite cliff slightly faded by smoke, a crimson sun breaking through from behind thunderhead clouds casting god rays across me and the meadow and the mountain. the temperature was perfect and i could hear the singing of the san juaquin river nearby. No mosquitos or flies. i was living in a painting. I walked passed some shrubs to reveal a small deep lake with Lilly pads. It was warm water. Took a swim across, climbed some rocks and took a high jump in. Fun by oneself on a lazy day in the mountains.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Enjoyed a big communal dinner with chatty hikers. The energy here is calm and peaceful. Finished off the evening with a stroll over to the lounge to pick up a bedtime reading book and peek in on a family play g a game of monopoly under soft amber lamp light in the corner. Imagine the most beautiful picture of a log cabin in the woods you have ever seen. I am there now.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 14 July 31 Wednesday</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">About 9 miles from muir ranch to Evolution Valley, the place my dad most wanted to see. Packs very heavy at around 40 pounds. there was not a wiff of smoke nor a cloud in the sky today. just brilliant blue skies. Walked most of the way with Matt Brisbin but lost him towards the end when I took a nap along the trail. We met a cute girl named Jessica who said she worked for the Ross ranch which i guess is right next to muir ranch. she said you gots to be friend or family to score a great summer job like that. I stopped short of our original destination when I came to a fantastic camp site with views of the peaks and warm water in the river. Spent a good 40 minutes watching the sun set all by myself. I camp alone tonight, nice and quiet. Saw some deer comedown to the creek for an evening drink. I have a space blanket now so I think I sleep warmer tonight :)</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 15 August 1 Thursday</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Long hard day physically and mentally. Got going as early as I could but it was so cold and I had so much todo this meant walking started at 7:45 am. I think I did about 14 miles today which included muir pass and like 4000 ft of climbing. The sun was so strong up near 12000 ft. I mostly hiked alone, then with Drew and caught up with Matt Brisbin at the Muir Hut. The climbing today made me second guess my abilities. I thought I was in good shape but this was tough and I felt exhausted several times. I got a real neat campsite here tonight. Very pretty. We could see the smoke in the distance today from muir pass but it never got near us. Blue sky all day. I think I smell pretty bad.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 16 August 2 Friday</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">If I farted in the forest and no one else is around to hear It, does it make a sound? Another 12 miles or so today between 7:45 and 5:00, from small lake to Palisade lake. It was a long down hill then a long up hill. Really a hard day today. Just getting worked. I have 71 miles to go. This is as hard as any ultra marathon I've done. Caught a rainbow trout today, but just small enough to not be worth cooking. Going to take it easier tomorrow. I have Mather pass and the golden stair case then whatever I feel lik. Want to eat a trout.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 17 August 3 Saturday</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">So just like that I think I need to get out of here. Too many things going against me stacking up now. No rain poncho or rain fly, boots that aren't a good fit, I been worrying about having enough food and I really only have enough for 4 more days tops plus tonight I spilled my dinner on the ground. Huevos rancheros. I ate some of it off the ground. Damn they were good too :( and today was my first full day of truly being alone. No more yahoo friends they are either ahead or behind. No Matt. I have a long way to go and my knee is bugging me, same one that killed me for the San Diego 100. I bought a knee brace in mammoth but even that is failing this new pain. I'm not really sure how to get out of here. Will ask around tomorrow. I think it will take at least three days no matter what. This trail is hard man. I thought being an ultra runner was good enough, but out here it's tough it's hailing and raining on you, it's hot and it's cold and the sun is fierce and the wind blows and there's lightning and the Mosquitos will eat you alive and you got these insane passes with steps built for 10 foot tall people, and the forest is on fire filling the air with smoke and your 40 pound pack follows you the whole way. Holy shits and giggles its hard. I still have like 60 miles and probably like 18000 feet of climbs. Not good for hungry guy with hurt knee all alone with no rain gear. Next time better gear prep and a resupply along this second half stretch, that or make sure can do 20 miles a day. Too much for me with these boots and pack. If I can't get word on a way out I'm going to have to hit Whitney portal skipping the summit. Gonna take at least 4 days.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 18 August 4 Sunday</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">This turns things around. Gorgeous destination today, my favorite area along the trail: Rae Lake area. These mntns are majestic. No man made creation has ever held a candle in comparison. So great. I met Jeremy and Chris foxy whom i saw before. They heard my plight and gave me extra food and encouraged me. I'll make the call at the lets argue exit tomorrow but now thinking I may push on to Whitney. Sleeping without a tent under the stars tonight.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 19 August 5 Monday</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Just another day. It's all about getting to finish now. Tried to go two passes but glen was tough and got to last camp opportunity below forester little after 5 and it looks tough and thunderheads loomed above so camped here another cold night at high alt. last night was cold too very cold. I did see biggest shooting star I ever seen last night. Hope I can make Whitney camp tomorrow otherwise might skip the summit. Dunno.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 20 August 6 Tuesday</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Woo! Now this is cool after like a 18 mile day rising early to cross forester I met Gerard and Emile from Andora and Grenoble respectively and we cruised cause they were fast. Jarard is ultra runner and knows Kilian. We are now at guitar lake the staging ground for Whitney and I ate two dinners and shat in a wag bag. This is the end of the John muir trail.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Day 21 August 7 Wednesday</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.731481552124023px;">Summit Whitney. It was the coldest night of the trip, lots of condensation making it wet and icy. We hiked at 6:15 am and summited just before 9:00 I think. No AT&T reception on top, so borrowed a stranger's Verizon phone to call home. Did a little dance video for Emile's movie, descended the nearly 7,000 feet to the portal, stopping to eat the last bag of dehydrated food on the way down. Got a ride from Ralph into tow. He was the first person we asked for a ride. Very easy. Had to use the wallet again! And back to the annoyances of artificial sounds and such but glad to sleep in dry warmth.</span><br />
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Zachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13601169801151932681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054096629175980297.post-69319665051207145252013-06-18T09:32:00.000-07:002013-06-18T15:54:54.380-07:00San Diego 100<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was the San Diego 100 mile endurance run. Runs like these are designed to test even the best of runners. On mostly dirt, single track trails through the desert and mountains, climbing and descending time after time, it is a battle between you and the elements, but mostly it is a battle with yourself. Designed to take well prepared athletes between 24 and 32 hours, even the world’s fastest ultra runners will take around 17 hours to complete the grueling course, twice as long as the fastest Kona IronMan races. If you enter into a race like this, it is because you are interested in pushing more than just your physical limits. You are out testing your mental endurance, and exploring the depths of your running spirit. </span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-54516d82-57fa-581c-5219-b8d3543bde0c" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Prior to the race, I felt well rested and uninjured, but my runner’s knee had only just subsided by about 2 days. It was great excitement to arrive at the race start the day before and meet the other runners. No race I’ve done ever had this kind of small, close knit community. I have never been so nervous as I was the day and night before the start of the race, knowing that it would be the hardest and longest and that I wouldn’t sleep again until the following day. It was very hard to sleep, and it was so hot and dry on that mountain, I went to bed with a headache that wouldn’t stop and I feared would still be there when the gun fired. It wasn’t until around midnight that I finally got up and went to the refrigerator to crack open a coconut water which did the trick. As I lay in bed, I entertained myself by rubbing various blanket fabrics together on my bed. You could see the static electricity discharge as I did so, a phenomenon I’d only noticed once before. My blankets lit up like a bioluminescent creature.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The race itself was the hardest event I’ve attempted, and the only one I never finished. It was hot and dry and at altitudes above 4k feet. The trail was unforgiving and littered with loose rocks. I got stuck behind a congo line of people on single track at the beginning and didn’t want to pass anyone for waste of energy, but plenty of people wanted to pass me, so I would have to step aside. I was worried about pushing too fast a pace early on. It was already warm and the day would get hot, near 100 degrees fahrenheit. I met a guy named Chase and we ran the congo line together for a bit. He told me a story about the Gold Rush hotel he was staying in, which had a journal in his room detailing all the hauntings that had taken place there. I suffered a nose bleed and got blood on my hand. I was already feeling my knee, and wondering if I could manage it for 100 miles. I recited Scott Jurek’s mantra in my mind. Can I take another step? Yes, then I can keep going.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I ran and walked through the first two aid stations. A guy at the second asked me how much water and salt I had been taking and he said I should double what I was doing. I ran with Bill (who finished i around 25 hours) and another guy, I can’t remember his name, until we caught up with Ashley. I stayed with Ashley until the third aid station then went ahead toward the fourth, at about mile 24. This is when it began to get hot, and The Jester passed me. I passed a couple runners but began to get passed more than I passed. I met up with Nathan (who also finished) who was really struggling in the heat. He wasn’t carrying much water. I tried to offer him some tips I have learned about surviving heat, like holding water in your mouth, taking off your (wet) hat and waving it in the air to cool it, etc. I was helped tremedously by a water beed bandana I borrowed from Ashley, when stayed around my neck, and a collapsible bpa free plastic cup the race had given us, which I was filling with water from my camelbak and dumping on my head from time to time as I walked. We passed a couple creek crossings which offered Nathan the chance to cool off and we ran toward the Noble Canyon aid station. This is where I saw Anders Dahl and learned of the 5 mile loop and upcoming popsicle treat. I took 5 minutes or so at the aid station and wandered off without a word up the hill following (I thought) Nathan who I had been running with. It was a paved road section and Nathan was flying up it, and I wasn’t surprised since he had told me about the multiple road 100 mile runs he had done. I guess he liked roads. I hated them. I tried to run on the dirt on the side. Somewhere along this 2 mile climb I began to wonder if I had gone the right way, and if that really was Nathan up ahead. But it was so hot, I tried not to think. Just trudge onward and stay cool as much as possible. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I arrived at the top and got my popsicle and surveyed the people and noted that Nathan was not among them. These guys all looked really fast. That’s cause they are 5 miles ahead of me, I thought. I said nothing. I knew I had missed the loop. There were no race officials at this aid station so I would have to get to the next one to learn my fate. I inspected my feet, found no blisters, and continued onward, now pretty depressed about the mistake I had made. I finally wanted to talk to someone about it, so I ran up to a kid after he passed me. I saw him drop a bag of salt pills and I brought them up. He confirmed about the loop and suggested I try to finish the race anyway. Someone called from behind and he went runing back. I did’t hear what they said, but I continued going. I don’t know why I never got suspicious that no one passed me, that there were no course markings or footprints in the ground. I continued on up a hill for at least 15 minutes and arrived at a fork in the road with no indication which way to go and knew then that I was off course. I turned back and ran down the hill, very pissed off at myself. I was hugging the cliff side and happened upon a rattle snake. I startled it and it startled me and I doubled my pace to fly away from it. I think I was about 6 feet from it when I noticed it. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Pioneer Mail aid station had a huge number of spectators so I picked up my pace, smiled and made it look easy as I came in. They applauded and noted how fresh I looked. I have the ability to make myself look like I just started running deep into the race, even when I’m feeling terrible, but only as long as people are looking. They asked me my name and number when I arrived and said they needed to have a talk with me. A man gave me the bad news about disqualification but said I could do whatever I wanted. Stop, or keep going. I believe they assumed I would stop. I rested for 10 minutes and told them I would continue on. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was so far behind schedule that I arrived at Sunrise aid station about 30 minutes after nightfall in pitch dark, meaning I was fumbling over trail without a light for that long. The race co-director was there waiting for me when I arrived at the aid station. I was surprised to have them tell me I wouldn’t be allowed to continue, after the previous aid station said I could continue under the stipulation that a finish wouldn’t be considered official. I was mentally prepared to go one more aid station, but it was a relief as well as a disappointment to have them make the decision for me that I must stop.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was pulled for inadvertently cutting part of the course, but I would not have made it even if I had stayed on course. I was injured. Even without that, I don’t think I was prepared for the difficulty of this distance, so I am glad I got a taste of how this distance will break your resolve, so I am familiar and know what to expect next time. The mind will be searching for any way out. There is a side that wants to stop and another that wants to finish, and really you have to be willing to suffer if you want to finish the whole distance. I only hope that I will be able to run at least 51 of the 100 miles. At this event, I think I ran no more than 20 of the 49 miles, and that’s just depressing. It was that hard. I couldn’t have increased that ratio even without the runner’s knee. It was too hot, dry, hilly and rocky and my pace was dismal. More training, and a cooler day would permit a faster pace.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The woman who cut my wristband was none other than the same Jennifer Henderson who had passed me in another race I had gone awry at: my first Palm Springs half ironman. I had run and talked with her at the end of the run before she passed me right before the finish line. She was a bad water finisher who blew me away that day. Here she was putting me out of my misery at my first 100 miler. Small world.</span></div>
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Zachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13601169801151932681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054096629175980297.post-82487793689091154352013-05-30T10:11:00.006-07:002013-05-30T10:11:52.054-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.666666984558105px;">So much has happened since last I blogged! Other than a three day backpacking trip in the Sespe, and several Saturdays I spent at the Mt. Wilson Observatory training to be a docent (which it turns out I am too busy this year to go through with) April was pretty much exclusively a month of mellow mountain trail running, but then travel and racing stepped into high gear.</span><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.666666984558105px;">
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<span style="font-size: 12.666666984558105px;">First of all, it has been awesome not having to report to a job! But it has also been frustrating dealing with traffic while theoretically people should be at work, and not having the company of my friends who have jobs, but I have made friends with some people who have weekdays free like me, and spent some time with my dad who is retired. I don't miss working, and I am gaining some valuable insights into how I want to live when I eventually do return to work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.666666984558105px;">The docent training I underwent is worthy of mention. The Mt Wilson Observatory is one of the premiere observatory sights in the world, and is the place where Edwin Hubble conducted his work on the expanding universe. I attended 4 all day training sessions to learn all about the history of the observatories and the people who worked there. I met Don Nicholson, who is the 90 something year old son of an astronomer who is famous for co-discovering the Hale Nicholson Law of the sun, and was himself a resident of the mountain throughout much of its history, which makes him perhaps the greatest living historian on the mountain. I met Dave Jurasevich who gave Huell Howser the tour on that episode of California's Gold, and a big group of volunteers who thrilled me with their enthusiasm and knowledge on subjects of astronomy and the machinery therein used. This is one of the best kept secrets of Los Angeles and I recommend you make the long drive up there on a weekend afternoon, eat at the cafe, and go on a tour of this amazing place.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.666666984558105px;">I did an ultra ragnar that left me with a tight IT band on my left leg. This persisted for several weeks and jeopardized my 100 mile training. I did one long run in spite of it, a double ascent of Mt. Wilson with Ashley. That was hard! It was a hot day, 29 miles and 12,000 feet of climbing. My IT band didn't seem to bother me very much on that, but in the aftermath it was as bad as ever, so much so that I would barely be able to run 1 mile in a few days.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.666666984558105px;">The thick of things began with a trip to Wildflower where I was racing the long course triathlon for the third time, and managing meals for the contingent of California Triathlon folk camping out for the race. On the drive up, I stopped over at UCSB for a short run on my old college stomping grounds. I went out in my running sandals, but barely made it a mile when it pretty much became unbearable to run. I walked back on the sand along the beach. This was disconcerting since I had a half ironman triathlon in 4 days. So I arrived a few days early and secured a camping site, but realized quickly that it would be better to try and camp with San Diego Tri Club, like we did the previous year. I stopped by to confirm that this would be ok, and Julie Moss was there to greet me. She is the woman who crawled across the finish line of the IronMan in Hawaii in the 1980s. At first I didn't recognize her, even though I had seen her the year before, she was so nice and personable, asking all sorts of questions and wanting to hang out.</span><div style="font-size: 12.666666984558105px;">
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The next day, I did a practice bike ride. My seat tilted forward and my shift lever came loose. I broke the shift lever trying to re-seat it by rotating it without remembering that the wire ran underneath the bar tape on the outside of the bar (which is sad because I put it there) and pulled the electric cable loose. I had to take the bike into town to fix the seat, but there was no replacement available for the shifter lever. I would have to race without it. While I was driving out, I saw a sight I took as an omen: a large bald eagle swooped down and grabbed what I think was a dead rabbit, road kill, from the road in front of me. It flew to the side, chased by 2 hawks, and flew alongside my car for about 10 seconds. Low and behold, I left my front wheel in the parking lot of the bike shop and didn't realize it until the next day, the day before race day. I am a lucky one that the store had it and it was ok, and I had to make the 2 hour round trip into town to get it back.</div>
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Race day was disappointing for me. I had my usual stomach problems in the water and felt weak on the bike. It was hot, and I didn't have much motivation during the run. I think I walked half of it, and finished with my slowest ever half ironman time. I made friends with a Canadian engineering student at mile 11 and ran the last 2 miles with him. He had crashed on the bike during the race the previous year, which required an airlift to the hospital. It was cool to finish the race running with him. Kind of knocked me into a different perspective on my own situation.</div>
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Since I was already farther north, it was high time to visit my friend Brenden, living near Humboldt. I made the drive north, calling home on the way to be reminded of the fact that I had borrowed my mother's cast iron skillet for the camping, and that I had left it at the camp site. This thing was like a hundred years old and belonged to my great grandmother. Ugh. I was 3 hours away when I remembered, and we believed it would have been picked up by then, so I continued the drive, past San Francisco, enjoying a great breakfast along the bay in Sausalito. The terrain turned from dry vineyard to lush green and I entered the Red Woods. Brenden lived in the middle of nowhere town of Petrolia which was very pretty, I thought rather like parts of France. I had a great week of relaxing up there, fishing and surfing, and eating healthy food.</div>
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I wasn't about to miss the bachelor trip to Nicaragua he had coming up the following week, even if it might mean getting too few training miles in before the San Diego 100. We all met up the following week at the airport in LA. Brenden, his dad, mutual friend Pat and the bride to be's father were all in on the trip. I met Phil, the bride's father, who was himself a Hawaii resident and former crew member for various Badwater ultramarathoners including his wife Kari, as well as the famous Marshal Ulrich.</div>
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Arriving in Managua, I was delighted to be in a warm, humid tropical climate. We were greeted and brought to our hotel. We rented a Toyota Helix the next morning and made the 3 hour or so drive to Playa Santana, a secure, modern resort destination, where we were staying in some mansion of a house. The best thing about the trip? Climbing palm trees for coconuts and hacking them up with a machete to drink and eat. All the coconuts you could ask for, free!</div>
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We took a surfing safari to Astillero beach, which the local surf shop recommended for the surf, but cautioned us was a little unsafe. It sounded like as long as we paid to park in this secured lot we would be ok. The plan was to do surf photography and always have at least one guy on the shore to man the fort. The whole day of surfing went down without a hitch, other than one man who Patrick saw carrying a machete. Down there, machetes are very common so he didn't think much of it. We were walking back to the truck, Brenden 30 feet ahead of me and Patrick 30 feet behind me. We were all carrying our boards and probably looking tired. I had my camera bag in my left arm. I saw two teenage local kids walking the opposite direction. They looked friendly, so I smiled a hello. The one in front eyes my bag and yanks it. I was stunned for a couple of seconds then gave chase, but he pointed back with a gun so I gave up. Patrick and Brenden were chasing in spite of the gun so I decided to resume the chase too. The kid took a hard slip and fall on the rocks and I thought Patrick had him, but he got up and made it onto the sand. At this point I was chasing him in my huaraches but Pat and Brended were barefoot and the sand was hot. I was closing in on the kid but he looked back, saw me and made a retreat into the thick of cacti and brush along the beach. I reluctantly followed but they had already disappeared. I really didn't know which way they had gone, and I still didn't know that the gun had been a fake, and I suspected they might have other weapons so I quickly gave up looking. We were understandably upset that we had failed, and I realized I lost a $3,500 camera.</div>
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It is ironic, but being the one who lost his camera, I was the least interested in this group of 5 in continuing to look for those kids. I had already given up, but these guys wanted to drive around and look for the kids. We started driving around in parts of the sticks that it really did not look like we wanted to be, and we even happened upon the house of the guy Patrick had seen carrying the machete on the beach, and we had our suspicions. Now, the kid who robbed me of my camera had dropped his plastic gun and his backpack which we kept as evidence. So we showed it to the machete guy at his house and tried to explain what had happened, but this went nowhere. The next idea was to find the police station and try to get a police report.</div>
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We found the police station with the help of some townsfolk and I made may case against the kids as best I could with the help of the guys. It wasn't easy, as the police knew no English and we sucked at our Spanish. We got most of the main points across and understood that the police wanted us (me) to go with them in their truck to the sight of the crime. So we waited about an hour for their truck to get there, then I got in and our truck followed. Brenden rode in the back seat of the truck with me, and two of the officers got in the bed with their AK47s. We broke speed records on the dirt roads back to the beach while the police truck utilized its sirens and blared techno music.</div>
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We arrived near the crime site and I was walking ahead of the police, another group of surfers saw and guessed correctly that I had been the victim of theft and had brought the police back. One of their guys knew English and Spanish fluently and explained to me that he had his car keys stolen a few days earlier. Evidently, he had bought them back for $40 at one of the restaurants nearby. This gave me hope and I asked if he thought I could buy my camera back and he thought I could. I never got the specific information from him which restaurant he went to. We tried several of them two days later, but I don't know if it was because of my poor Spanish, not finding the right person(s) or because I was a gringo, but it never went anywhere. We only found blank faces and suggestions we talk to the police.</div>
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I want to bring home the point the our experience in Nicaragua was very positive on the whole. This incident, and a little traffic violation we had to pay, were the only remotely negative things that happened on the trip, and I want to point out that it could have been much worse. The people were friendly on the whole. The food was cheap and delicious. The country was beautiful. I saw how a third world country is for the first time, and I am glad to know that there are still places in the world like this where we can safely travel. It's both refreshing and a little bit depressing, but eye opening.</div>
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Now I am anxiously awaiting and preparing for my big event, the San Diego 100 mile endurance run. This is the culmination of everything I have learned about running and human spirit. I anticipate being rattled to the core, and pushing myself to the brink of exhaustion, the point of wanting to give up, farther than I have ever been, and I hope to find some reason to endure beyond those moments of despair and finish 100 miles with a smile on my face and tears of joy in my eyes.</div>
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Zachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13601169801151932681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054096629175980297.post-12281296237777231272013-03-30T21:33:00.000-07:002013-03-30T21:33:29.800-07:00Night Walk<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I began a walk at the foot of the San Gabriel mountains Tuesday evening before sunset that I intended to take me high into the mountains, not to return until after the sun rose again. This was an exercise in staying up for 24 hours and moving alone in the dark over dirt trails, as I will have to do to run 100 miles in June. I chose this night for the full moon and pleasant temperatures we have had. My willingness to go through with this was irresolute even before I began. I was already feeling sore from workouts over the previous days, and thought I may have been doing too much not yet a month out from the ironman, so I was far from fresh, but I told myself that was the better to simulate how I'll feel on the 100 mile day.<br />
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I parked at the top of lake and walked up to Mount Lowe by the time the moon crested the horizon. I dreaded the thought that I wouldn't stop my walk until that moon set in the west. It made beautiful light on the mountains though and I walked usually with my headlamp turned off. Sometimes tree cover or technical terrain made me turn it on. I saw a tarantula that didn't like my light. At one point, passing through a tunnel in the mountainside, I turned on my lamp only to be horrified in seeing dozens of millipedes that were walking on the ground. I turned the lamp back off.<br />
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It was earily quiet in the mountains, the wind still. Not even crickets. From the top, near the observatory, I watched as the blanket of clouds formed over the city and blocked in the lights. I walked along singletrack and when there were forks I explored some of the paths I've never tried before. I constantly fought the desire to return to my car and drive to a warm bed, and even thoughts of lying down on the ground to sleep. My mind was coming up with excuses, like the typhoid vaccination med I needed to take in the morning for my Africa trip, to return and make sure I had that empty stomach I was supposed to take it on. This is exactly why I was doing this walk; to explore all the things your mind will do to get you to stop. In the end, I did give in and it would have been over a lot sooner if not for the fact that I had walked a long way from the car and had to get back. I had caved in by about 1:30 am, but didn't get to me car until 5:30. I thought I would be back by 4:30 but I was farther out than I knew. Still, I was at least an hour short of sunrise. I'm glad I stopped because I faught to stay awake driving home, and I did need to take that last typhoid vaccine pill. I have a mind to try this again in April, next full moon, or I might just go for the 24 hour walk.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset, planning to go til sunrise</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tarantula</td></tr>
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Zachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13601169801151932681noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054096629175980297.post-92222085301156131872013-03-14T22:30:00.002-07:002013-03-14T22:30:43.700-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>Au revoir DreamWorks</b><br />
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It seems like it was only yesterday that I began working with the folks at DreamWorks Animation in Glendale, Ca. I remember how proud I was to be working as a full time employee at a position I had sought after throughout college and alway imagined so difficult to attain, what with the awesome nature of the work, and every fan boy computer scientist and art student I assumed would be competing with me for the job. It was with much apprehension that I approached the job hunt after graduating college with nothing yet lined up. I had a degree, a temporary gig coding open source RenderMan for Google/Aqsis, a resume that listed work experience from student computer support technician at UCSB to editorial intern at Pixar, and a heart full of desire to work on awesome animated films, with the people I had come to revere through reading Siggraph papers and watching DVD special features. To me the environments at places like Pixar and DreamWorks looked like utopias where creative, friendly, and brilliant people collaborated, using art, science, mathematics and engineering to create movies.<br />
<br />
It was at Siggraph 2007, two months after I graduated college, that I got my big break after hunting down DreamWorks' human resources desk and handing them my resume. I really did not expect a call from them. Pixar was my big hope, but I was happy to aim my sights at lesser known and therefore (I assumed, it seems, incorrectly) easier to get into shops like Laika. But in fact it was DreamWorks that called me up the next day and wanted an interview right there at Siggraph. That interview was surprisingly pleasant.<br />
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The train ride back to Ventura after that trip was something I will never forget. There I was on the train in a seat with an empty one next to me, feeling very content after my awesome week at Siggraph, where I had made new friends, partied on the aircraft carrier courtesy of Autodesk, attended lots of interesting talks, and interviewed with DreamWorks. I thought the week was over but a man who worked at DreamWorks asked if he could take the seat next to me. He told me his name and I recognized it, because I owned a copy of his book, Image Synthesis using RenderMan, by Satty Raghavachary. He told me about working at Dreamworks and at this point I felt it was destined that I would work there too. I was so excited!<br />
<br />
I look back on over five years and am really happy to see that I worked on such a wide variety of things, and with such an incredible group of people. I worked with people who made the movies that I grew up on, like The Lion King, Beauty and the Beast, The Little Mermaid and even The Jungle Book. I worked on state of the art camera capture tools, learned the tools they made Shrek with (and even Kung Fu Panda on mostly the same tools, incredibly antiquaited though they were for the time), I wrote probably hundreds of python scripts, became an industry expert in Maya, designed APIs, learned stereo movie making from the best people in the business, and saw how these films get made from almost beginning to end and worked in almost every department in the pipeline along the way. I really feel like I've seen a lot, and I haven't seen everything but for now I have seen enough and I know that the world out there is so big and I have a yearning to see that too.<br />
<br />
I am forever grateful to those who demanded the most of me and never doubted that I could deliver even though sometimes I doubted myself. I may or may not return, but I feel content that I have inspired some of you to run, others to do triathlon, and I was in turn inspired in watching you rise to your endeavors. I will remember most the hallway conversations and lunch table discussions where we shared our weekend stories, complained about the process, and dreamed of bigger and better things.<br />
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<b>IronMan New Zealand</b><br />
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Me at Craters of the Moon, a thermal area near lake Taupo, a few days before the race</div>
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I arrived in Auckland, New Zealand with my dad and we visitied my friend Tim Mitchell, an Auckland resident who I met in 2011 on my tour of the Alps in the Tour de France. Tim is a Kona IronMan athlete and completed IMNZ multiple times. On race morning Tim sent me a text which I read just before entering the water.<br />
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"Ironman is all about how you deal with the bad-patches - cause know there will be bad-patches mate ...<br />
And whether that's a technical problem on the bike, accidentally dropping your specially prepared peanut-butter dates, or just your body saying "I've had enough", be prepared for them (ideally just the latter) ...<br />
Also know everyone out there is dealing with them too. Cause Ironman is a race that you race against yourself (just like your 100-miler which blows me away) ... so again, your biggest challenge will be how you deal with the bad."<br />
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I don't know if Tim jinxed me with this little warning, but it stayed in my mind while dealing with the physical pains and discomforts of the race, and especially so when I suffered mechanical problems on the bike. It kept me calm and determined to fix the problems and keep on going.<br />
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So the race began before sunrise with a deep water start, all of is bobbing in the water waiting for the gun. I positioned myself middle-to-back. I had been in this water many times in the days before the race and found it to be the most pleasant swimming environment ever, with comfortable temperature, 25-foot visibility and water so clean you could drink it. The surface was smooth and we were off.<br />
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The bike was my least favorite part of the race. The chip-seal road surface is bumpy and uncomfortable. I was suffering my usual stomach issues and trying to get all my food down. That was my big goal for this race: to eat enough. Shortly after the half way point, I dismounted to take on new water at an aid station, and began eating from my special needs bag. I kept the bag out and continued riding, and emptied the bag. I remember thinking I was past the drop zone for trash, so I should stuff the empty bag in my shirt, and boy do I wish I had. I decided to discard it anyway, and the darn thing landed in my rear cogset. Its then plastic membrane formed a web over all of the cogs and got underneath the chain. I first tried picking it off but knew it would be easier to remove the wheel from the bike to be free of the chain. I did that and removed the bag, replaced the wheel. Riding again, up hill, I could heard bad sounds. I stopped again and looked. My rear break was stuck fully open, brushing against the crank. I had pulled the break cable free of its anchor point in the break, and the steel threading had unwound at the end, making it impossible to reset. It was not an option to ride on; the grinding would slow me way down and tear up my bike. I rode to an intersection manned by a volunteer and asked if she could get me a mechanic but she didn't have a comm unit. I knew I would have to work this out on my own, so with my bike upside down and my drink leaking from my aero bottle, I went to work taking the rear brake off. I managed to get it all off and stuffed it into my spare tube bag and mounted the bike again. Now I realized I couldn't shift. My thoughts turned to true dispair. I must have broken the electronics somehow. I could ride without a rear brake but no shifting? I'm done. Luckily this was an easy one. I had merely engaged the shift adjustment mode on my computer, I saw that the LED was lighted up so I pressed the button and had shifting again. Ok. 55 miles to go and then a marathon.<br />
<br />
I think I spent about 30 minutes all told stopped, fixing these various problems. This break kind of changed the way I was approaching the race. I was now riding with the back of the pack. Before, I had been riding with some grinders, and having them pass me was affecting my pysche and making me ride harder than I wanted. Now I could ride at an easier clip and pass others, and that's what I did. I stopped two more times to use the restroom, eat and take on liquids. I finished the ride after 7 hours, right behind a 70 year old man.<br />
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The marathon was the highlight of my day. Well fed, and not too drained from the bike, I hit good form immediately, running out of the starting chute, a woman asked me, how come your legs are working? "I don't know, I said." I could see I was well behind. After each 8.3 mile loop of the marathon, you get a new colored scrunchie on your wrist. Lots of people already had two. It wasn't going to be the kind of day I wanted for the overall ironman time, but maybe I could have a better marathon than I had hoped. Going in, I estimated I could do the marathon in 4:20-4:30. Spectators brightened my day with their cheering and comments about my great looking form. I love them. I walked every aid station and ate and drank, alternating water and electrolyte drink. I would stuff ice into my hat, shirt, and mouth. This really helped a lot. I wish I had done it at my first IM. I started passing people. I passed hundreds of people. Most of the athletes at this stage were walk/running. Lots of walkers. The runners were finishing their IM when I started the marathon, or just shortly after. I remember hearing "So and So, you are an IronMan!" as I left transition to start the run. Those would have been the pros I guess, at around 9 hours into the day (15 minutes longer for them since they start early). I had the time of my life on that run. I walked the hills, mostly as a strategy to conserve energy, not because I felt I had to. I probably didn't run as hard as I could have, since I am still new to this and wanted to conserve and make sure I had enough in me to run at the end. And I did. I ran the whole least 1.5 miles and came in about 10 minutes faster than my first IM, and with a marathon time of 4:11, which was 9 minutes faster than my best hope, and 49 minutes faster than my first IM. I had so much fun, I immediately wanted to do another IM. There were no IronMan blues for me this time, not at the finish, and not in any of the subsequent days. Just pure addiction.<br />
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This was the first time I returned late at night to watch the end of the race. It was a very lively and inspiring place to be near midnight as hundreds of people cheered the last hundred or so athletes to finish the race. The most memorable was the last, a woman who must have given up 300 meters from the finish, I heard someone say she was getting on the foot bridge as if to go home, perhaps assuming she was not going to make the cutoff which was only about 90 seconds away. I could imagine her wanting to avoid the dismay of the clock stricking midnight right before she crossed the finish line. Mike Reilly took off to usher her in anyway. Somehow we learned her name, so the whole crowd began to chant it and we grew louder and more excited as she come through and finished with about 11 seconds to spare.<br />
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My dad and I before the swim start</div>
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Zachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13601169801151932681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054096629175980297.post-44141102134276151512013-01-16T17:22:00.000-08:002013-01-16T17:22:02.907-08:00Catalina 50 mile ultramarathon 2013<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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After reading Barefoot Ted's <a href="http://www.barefootted.com/index.php?q=/2012/02/avalon-benefit-50-mile-run-experiment.html">account</a> of his 2012 running of the Avalon 50 mile run on no more than 25 miles of training per week, I was very interested to see how I would feel since I also trained with fewer miles than would be considered typical for a 50 mile training plan, averaging about the same mileage per week as Ted and having no more than 40 miles in my peak week.<br />
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The Catalina 50 mile run begins at 5:00 am. Tony Rudd and Sarah Davis and I ferried over the day before and shared a nice little house on one of the main streets. This race has some of the simplest logistics of any race ever. We wake up at about 4:00, eat and get hyped before strolling the 2 minute walk to the start line, where we meet and greet for about 3 minutes and the gun goes off. It's 350 people running up a mountain in the dark with their headlamps on, and the stars watching from above. I'm pretty much in the middle with a trail of lights zigzagging along the switchbacks below and above me. It's cold, so I'm going a little faster than I want, just to keep warm. After reaching the top, we descend. A guy nose dives right in front of me and I stop to ask if he is ok, so does the guy behind me. A snappy yes is all I wait for to keep booking it down the hill. Nearly 2 hours in, the sun begins to rise. My hands are frozen bricks and I can't use them for anything. It's a gorgeous and warming sun rise. We reach the airport which was the turnaround for the marathon I did here 2 years before. This time we turn left and head for the opposite side of the island. This is barely the beginning of the day.<br />
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I will confess without any regret that I ran this run in shoes. The cold weather and the mean, 3 mile paved road descent at the end would have made this a painful run to have done in sandals. I am very pleased to have finished this 50 mile run, less fatigued than after most of my road marathons. A fact I attribute to increased endurance, but some of it is just becaue trails are much less taxing to run than roads.<br />
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By this point we were pretty spread out and I started seeing runners who had started their run early, at midnight and 2 am. Soon I saw the lead runners including the winner, Fabrice, who was a picture of concentration, as he ran every bit of the course, including the steepest of hills. It started to get real when I found myself alone above a gorgeous pristine beach and smelled the deliciously salty breeze as I walked up another hill around mile 37. Up until this point I had run my race almost entirely on the physical level. Now it started getting mental with the usual doubts and reasoning against running in favor of walking.<br />
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I arrived at the mile 40 aid station where they were playing blue grass music, serving lobster, buffalo burgers, wine, red bull and beer. I grabbed a can of kerns and some potato smothered in salt and continued on my merry way.<br />
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Walking up one steep hill around mile 42 I saw Sarah Davis was running back to meet Tony. She gave me grief for walking instead of running and I gave her a hug and walked on.<br />
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Around mile 44 I started to experience the same kind of goal defeat I had experienced at my ironman. It was a little different, because instead of realizing I couldn't reach my goal I realized I was well ahead of schedule and could easily walk almost half the remaining distance and still meet my goal, and I have to admit at least some amount of disappointment in myself for not pushing on and seeing just how well I could do. Instead I kind of took the middle ground and continued to walk/run toward the final descent. This kind of moment is the readon I do endurance sports. You really learn what you're made of. Then something interesting happened. Half a dozen or so runners began to slowly pass me and I realized the difference between us was that while I could run faster than them when I did run, I would quickly get tired and began walking again, and they would pass me again. They were all just running along very slowly but never slowing to a walk. I tried it myself but it just wasn't my style. I would pick up the pace and get tired again. I guess you have to train for this.<br />
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Around mile 45 it began to get emotional. I began simultaneously regarding what a ridiculous thing it was that I was doing, and yet how pleased I was with myself for doing it. I soon stared with disdain at the long steep paved black road that winded down into town. I began to laugh at myself as well as the 350 other nut jobs who were doing this along with me. A voice inside my head said "IT DEOESNT MATTER" and I regarded the double meaning: it didn't matter how my body felt, and it didn't matter how fast I finished or whether or not I even finished at all. It just is what it is, and so I ran on.<br />
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So next week I'll be doing trail work at Mt. Laguna to get my entries in the lottery for a chance to run the San Diego 100 miler in June. I'll also be back to run Catalina again, because I never saw a buffalo.<br />
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After taking my post race soak at the beach, I saw Ashley finish and soon Trace came out to usher us into Coyote Joe's bar for drinks with the guys who had come in 1st and 3rd. I didn't realize for the first 30 minutes that I was sitting next to the winner, who looked fresh as though he hadn't run at all, but had nearly broken the course record by finishing in 6:09. He was from France and had a ton of experience. I learned tons by listening to him talk about how he trains. It reaffirmed by belief that ultra running has not and perhaps cannot be so well understood as Marathon running. He only runs what he feels likee, never more, never less. No strict schedules or workout plans, and no speed work.<br />
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Of food, I consumed: 1 perfect foods almond/honey bar, 1/2 acai/flax bar, 2 rolls onigiri, ~1/2 potato with salt, 3 pretzels, 1 piece sliced banana, 10 grapes, 1 can Kerns nectar, 5 medjool dates, 1/2 sprouted corn tortilla with hummus, 2 orange wedges, about 12 ounces of electrolyte drink, 1/3 bottle of chia/agave/water blend, 7 salt tabs, and about 70 ounces of plain water. I believe I consumed ~2k calories total. The cold weather made digestion very easy. I never used the bathroom.<br />
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Smile 33 aid station: already farther than I've ever gone</div>
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Flick House and housemates Sarah and Tony</div>
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Dinner night before the run</div>
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Zachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13601169801151932681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054096629175980297.post-9459482551894812712012-12-06T22:15:00.001-08:002012-12-06T22:15:38.955-08:00Into the Wild<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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On February 15, 2013 I am leaving my dream job. It's been a decision I've mulled over for at least a couple of years now and I could see that it was never going to be an easy choice but I am finally convinved it is the right choice for me. I don't have another job ligned up and I don't even know what I really want to do for a job, but almost like a chapter out of The Alchemist, I can feel the universe moving me in this direction, as if to fulfill my personal legend.<br />
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The excitement is already building. My exit date is just on the heels of my second IronMan race, New Zealand. I'll be flying out only a few days after, and will return with no job to go back to, but a mission to have fun, play hard, spend a whole lot of time outdoors, and complete a 100 mile run. I hope to run out of money, get lost and find myself again.<br />
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The excitement I once had for my day job has long since faded away. For a long time now, I've drove, biked or ran to work on so many days when I would gaze off toward Mt Wilson and wish I were heading there instead. I've spent too many days in a dark building with my attention on a screen, slaving away towards a purpose that is not my own, making people richer than I even richer and not seeing the worth in it. I once imagined settling down here, falling in love and starting a family, but that hasn't happened and I'm done waiting around for it. I am off to make it a life worth living while I can still do it my way.<br />
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Years from now I'll look back and see that this was one of the best choices I ever made. I know it's one of the hardest. It's scarry because I am leaving behind a (false) sense of security and a network of friends and the familiar atmosphere. I am comfortable here and it is not to escape problems that I am leaving. I have to believe that something out there holds greater promise for me even though I don't know what it is. I feel a great sense of freedom, having the power to make this choice. And I know that I am going to discover something about myself I never would have if I hadn't chosen to do this.<br />
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2013 has the following in store for me, just to start. IronMan New Zealand and vacation in New Zealand and Fiji, touring up the U.S. West coast to visit friends and train along the way, Wildflower long course for the third time, a 100 mile run, hiking the John Muir trail, travel to Tanzania, climb Mt Kilimanjaro and visit Egypt, another 100 mile run. Ever wanted to live out your bucket list? What the hell are you waiting for?<br />
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The mountain are calling, and I must go. -John Muir<br />
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Zachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13601169801151932681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054096629175980297.post-41208176898991160572012-09-14T22:00:00.002-07:002012-09-14T22:07:16.199-07:00IronMan, Ultra and Beyond<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's been almost 3 months since my first ironman and I've progressed through the whole gamut of post race psychology, from thrill, to regret over not going faster, to depression, to not caring to ever do that again, to being very interested in doing that again.<br />
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My earliest memory of IronMan was as an 11 year old kid, driving with my family through the lavafields while on summer vacation on the big island of Hawaii. My parents talked about how the bike course went through where we were driving. I remember thinking how utterly terrible it sounded to swim miles through the rough ocean, bike over 100 miles through the heat, and run a marathon. What kind of tough, mean person would do such a thing. To me it was akin to walking on the moon, something mortal men never do in their entire lives. I had not even a hint in my mind that I would ever attempt it.<br />
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Alas, 14 years go by. A classic triathlon gave way to a half marathon, gave way to olympic triathlon, marathon, half ironman then what's next. The body gets stronger and the mind more curious about what it might be like to go farther.<br />
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So it came to this. It was a nerve racking time, preparing over the course of 6 months, over-training and getting sick and injured and getting discouraged. The mental game is relentless. Right down to the wire. Even the journey, driving the 1200 miles from soCal to CDA, trying to get there in time for the 4:00 pm packet pickup cutoff time on Friday, after only leaving on Thursday morning. I didn't plan that so well.<br />
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Heading out to my first ironman was the most exciting thing since waking up on Christmas mornings when I was younger than 10. I very much looked forward to spending all the daylight hours moving across the surface of the earth.<br />
I was too restless to sleep much the night before the race and around 3:00 am it was raining and thundering, with only 4 hours until race start! Memories surfaced of how awful the LA marathon was during the storm in 2011. An ironman would be a bigger mess still. By the time I left the house it was no longer raining, and by the time I was on my bike, the roads were dry. That's how the weather is in the Pacific Northwest.<br />
<br />
<br />
The memories are vivid all the way from driving to the starting line in the morning wth my parents, listening to The Killers' "All These Things" on my ipod, powering through the swim feeling way better than expected, pushing through the bike ride - never been so happy to get off the bike and run, to wanting oh so much just to walk or lay down in the shade for a spell (and I did lay down in someone's shady lawn once until the lady who lived there asked her husband to ask me if I wanted the hose), but pushing on for the goal of the finish time and from the spirit of the race, the other racers and the crowd to push cheering me on. Go Spartacus! The sandal runner.<br />
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The most depressing moment was when another racer passed me while I was walking and asked me how badly did I want it? And I realized that in spite of wanting so much to finish under a certain time, at that moment I didn't really want it all that much. I was beat in that sense, but really my spirits were high and I was certain I would finish. There was never any doubt of that. It was just a matter of walking vs. running. So I walked quite a bit. I alternated between barefoot and huaraches. My throat became parched from the breathing and the electrolyte drink. My leg muscles began to fail. I was undernurished. Learning.<br />
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I was passed at my run mile 6 point by Jason Lomheim who told me he didn't want to see me walking except at aid stations. Well, he was at his mile 20. Gerardo Barrios asked me if I wanted some shoes, Cynthie Cuno said hi and Ray Barios gave me a hug. I passed by Jon Nathan who was my carrot on the bike, but he kept coming back and passed my 20 feet from the finish line. It was a great day.<br />
Coming in just under 13 hours, I was kind of surprised at how quickly I had finished. Though my original goal was 12:30, my diminished spirits during the run, and the fact that I was walking so much made me expect a 13:15 - 13:30 finish time. It kind of made me wonder if I had pushed a little more, maybe I would have met my 12:30 goal. On the other hand, I don't regret not pushing because I had fun doing this, and pushing it would have only shaved at the very most an hour from my run time, and made me suffer. I wanted to savor taking it kind of easy, because I knew I had not trained properly for this distance, and I knew I have another IronMan race in New Zealand next year, and for that one, and all that come after it, I will not walk.<br />
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Part of me felt depressed after the completion of my first ironman. It's like a mixture of feelings about having worked so hard and focused so much and not having that anymore. It's missing how great it felt to be a rock star on race day. It's not being able to do my workouts because I have to recover. It's people doubting, and especially my own self doubting that I can ever qualify for Kona. It's like an identity crisis. Part of me wants to stop trying. But that's what this is really about, isn't it? This is the struggle of the ironman. This is where the real pain is endured. And I love it. Never give up.<br />
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Still, it's utterly bewildering how much faster I need to be to qualify for Kona.<br />
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I do believe that completing an ironman triathlon is one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself. It is gratifying for me to look back on the photos and know that I did this, and to remember thinking how scarry it was when I first made that commitment, and that I stuck to it over the long haul and made it all the way to the finish line, in good time, and in good form. Then you can watch videos of ironman races and be able to relate to what you are watching. You know what is involved because you went through every mile.<br />
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As challenging as the ironman is, it somehow is not enough. I am convinced that a 24 hour run, or a double-ironman is the real test of not only the body, but the mind. I look forward to experiencing this for myself. The most satisfying thing in all of this has been that the more I do the more I want to do. I biked through the Pyrenees in France just 3 weks after my ironman. 7 days, 350 miles, and 45,000 feet of steep climbing on the bike at a pace faster than I had ever done before. I came back and did a 16 mile run through 100 degree heat, a 5 mile ocean swim, and a 31 mile run in 5:19 running in a combination of sandals and barefoot 1 weeks later, again with tons of climbing, my first ultra. I'm more in tune with myself and more confident. This sport is my yellow brick road, and I'm off to see the wizard.<br />
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Zachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13601169801151932681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054096629175980297.post-11276768970895014962012-04-06T17:07:00.002-07:002012-04-06T17:19:56.420-07:00LA Marathon, Oceanside Ironman and California TriathlonThe LA Marathon went great on March 19. It was a dry, cool and beautiful day and I ran in about 4:16 chip time, and that was my first full marathon in huaraches. No problem with the sandals, but my training volume wasn't enough for me to hold a consistent pace throughout the marathon. I walked 3 or 4 aid stations and maybe an 8th of a mile around mile 23. Definitely felt tired for the last 6 miles.<br /><br />I attended the official Ford half IronMan at Oceanside last weekend not to race but as a volunteer. I was there very specifically for the Challenged Athletes Foundation (CAF) and mostly to help a friend named Karen Adalot who is a single amputee. It was very impressive to see her and the other challenged athletes compete in this race. They have so much more logistics to deal with, and pain! I think they are greater endurance athletes than the pros. Karen finished in about 7:30.<br /><br />I took a plunge in the ocean with my new DeSoto T1 wetsuit, which I hadn't used yet. The water was cold but I was burning up in this thick wetsuit. It's the right one for Alcatraz in May and Coer d'Alene in June.<br /><br />I've recently joined a community service triathlon group California Triathlon, and am very impressed with their approach to team training and multisport. It is a free group that seems to do way more than any pay-for triathlon club. You can join too:<br /><a href="http://www.catriathlon.com/index.html">California Triathlon</a><br /><a href="http://www.catriathlon.com/index.html"></a>Zachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13601169801151932681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054096629175980297.post-71983878837985265422012-03-03T18:22:00.007-08:002012-03-03T19:22:36.989-08:00Nautica Malibu Triathlon<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgctieUQpGigIP2YWW_TvFKZlRI8kWMFd96JDNs5NkL-VNXhP2kdf-TcCo2APpENKMvIydVHtP9Of4fRK6ykS7kqcjEMC0t8lHL-wrS4P2T0mmC_s9VC8Cw_LzXH9H3pwLyVaf_cge1_uk/s1600/tri.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgctieUQpGigIP2YWW_TvFKZlRI8kWMFd96JDNs5NkL-VNXhP2kdf-TcCo2APpENKMvIydVHtP9Of4fRK6ykS7kqcjEMC0t8lHL-wrS4P2T0mmC_s9VC8Cw_LzXH9H3pwLyVaf_cge1_uk/s400/tri.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5715864777896300162" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div>The annual Nautica Malibu Triathlon was the first triathlon I ever did, in 2009. In 2011 I came in 5th in my age group, and this year I'm aiming for 1st. It's my favorite little triathlon. I love waking up early on Saturdays and Sundays all summer long to drive down to Zuma, meet up with friends and train on the beach. We swim with dolphins, exchange stories, talk about goals, and just have a generally great time. It builds inspiration and before you know it you're training for a full ironman.</div><div><br /></div><div>I race with the DreamWorks animation team, and it is our goal to be number one in raising money for the Children's Hospital of Los Angeles. If you are so moved, please make a tax deductible donation and support the hospital, and me, in reaching our goals. You can do so by credit card on <a href="http://nauticamalibutri2012.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=1010405&lis=1&kntae1010405=7DC3AF7D8F8D468390B61A3EF6453EC7&supId=353541979">here</a>. I am very selective myself about organizations I donate to, but I have met and talked with the nurses from CHLA and I believe this to be a worthy one.</div><div><br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZb8kS6m_w2PZ9eZ4A93IQbCftA4luDD6e_x9lymJP3iIWRURN15J6qLgrjBe1Ag8j-8YFuFgzeERun7Te2fuY4zXf9EEu-nmfflcLfxOn3pSDn4nOxFQpR2Ln2pcUvQc2_LqcmCZMips/s1600/tri2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 384px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZb8kS6m_w2PZ9eZ4A93IQbCftA4luDD6e_x9lymJP3iIWRURN15J6qLgrjBe1Ag8j-8YFuFgzeERun7Te2fuY4zXf9EEu-nmfflcLfxOn3pSDn4nOxFQpR2Ln2pcUvQc2_LqcmCZMips/s400/tri2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5715864894890743394" /></a>Zachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13601169801151932681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054096629175980297.post-58840410316812184352012-02-08T22:36:00.000-08:002012-02-09T21:09:15.208-08:00Sedona Marathon 2012<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnP7sIg9pTVb1Nc-GF9nys6U0wCiB2a_leFMzfap-2WW5lDqfrweFbOwGdKvYmbWRhDmO2q1Wc8sfAF2EIYYeVuYsB2ofKZK2JPn6BCzCriPB2KAxMj-QiV0zVIL9YDL-cWJjtjya9mpg/s1600/6836227213_ff59fd1dd8_m.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 160px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnP7sIg9pTVb1Nc-GF9nys6U0wCiB2a_leFMzfap-2WW5lDqfrweFbOwGdKvYmbWRhDmO2q1Wc8sfAF2EIYYeVuYsB2ofKZK2JPn6BCzCriPB2KAxMj-QiV0zVIL9YDL-cWJjtjya9mpg/s400/6836227213_ff59fd1dd8_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707021371407716002" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I just finished driving over 1,000 miles round trip for the Sedona marathon. I learned about this race over a year ago and was struck by its beautiful setting; I had to run it. With a course that is partially on pavement and partially dirt trail, at an altitude of over 4000 feet, and with clean air and great scenery it seemed like the best marathon in the country, and I still think it may be. I went to a lot of trouble and spent a good deal of time and money registering and getting out there, but ultimately I did not run it. What did I learn? If you aren't going out there to have fun, then you shouldn't be out at all. </div><div><br /></div><div>See, I've been suffering from overtraining over the past several weeks. I cringe to say that because I don't want to believe it, but the fact is I've developed a chronic injury in my right leg and I am unable (unwilling) to remain sedantary long enough to allow it to fully recover. It is frustrating because I should be running for at least 4 hours on average each week, and I have really only been doing 3 at most, which is almost entirely condensed in half marathons that I have been running each weekend, but perhaps I got here too fast, with imperfect form, and combined with too much cycling and cross fit in my first 6 weeks of ironman training, and I have been on edge to the point that I have gotten sick and injured.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was not thinking clearly when I committed to running the Sedona marathon, knowing full well that I was not recovered, and had not done the proper training. I was even more woefully unprepared than I was aware, as I planned to arrive in Sedona fewer than 15 hours ahead of the marathon start. This, going from sea level to 5,000 feet, which is where I camped. It was a quest of a trip. As planned, I rose 5:30 am Friday morning on February 3 to get a 6:00 am start on the road to Sedona, taking the highways via Palm Springs and through Phoenix. It was a grueling 7 hour drive when I arrived at a visitor center next to the marathon packet pickup location in Sedona. I was already mentally exhausted and dehydrated and suffering from the altitude adjustment since Sedona is at about 4500 feet. It was about 3:00 pm local time since Arizona does not practice daylight savings time. I had lost an hour I hadn't accounted for. I stopped in at the tourist info center to ask where I could find a campground and was directed to the only one the guy was aware of, but this hyper enthusiastic guy didn't let me leave without also hooking me to attend a time share infosession the day of the marathon, with a promise of a free helicopter ride over Sedona.</div><div><br /></div><div>I picked up my race packet and located the campgrounds some 6 miles out of town along canyon road. After driving into what were very narrow campground roads lined with boulders, I managed to scratch up my car a bit and park in an empty site and quickly decided I really didn't like the place. For one, I had gone to lots of trouble to haul my 150+ pound telescope gear out with me to try to conduct some astronomical observing and perhaps photography during two nights of camping. These campgrounds were in a canyon and covered with trees; not at all conducive to star gazing. I struggled for 2-3 hours driving all around Sedona to find a better campsite before deciding to cut my time losses and return to car-scratch-ville to try to make a fire, eat dinner and get some sleep.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I remember I was already getting cold feet about the marathon. I had a headache from the altitude change and I was tired and on edge from the drive and trying to find a good camp site. I had never made a camp fire before so I struggled with that too, dertermined to use the food I had brought and not wuss out and use a restaurant. Eventually I did make a fire and felt like Tom Hanks in Castaway. The thrill of getting my camp fire burning and cooking eggs, beans, and potatoes over the coals, squatting there next to the fire and devouring the food with my hands. It reinvigorated me and made me feel like I could run the marathon again.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The temperature descended into the low 30s and I pitched a tent and was lying down by 10 pm. I didn't feel sleepy so I lay awake and new campers drove into camp, making noise. A group came in next to me and talked and listened to music through the night, finally dozing off at around 4:00 am, which is when I finally started to sleep. </div><div><br /></div><div>I struggled throughout the night with the thought of abandoning the marathon altogether, running half of it, or just the 10k. I tested my right leg at rest stops on the drive up and my right heel was still feeling tight, and had been for weeks. This mental battle is perhaps the toughest part of training for an ironman. The question of whether you are doing too little or too much. Should I push on through the whole marathon and expect to be made stronger from it? Or will that destroy me for the next several days or even weeks and prevent training and ultimately sell me short of the level of endurance I may have attained. </div><div><br /></div><div>Knowing that I have the LA marathon in March, the Wildflower half ironman in April, and full in June, and wanting to not debilitate myself, I decided after waking up at 5:30 that I was going to run the half marathon instead of the full. I could sleep 'til 7:00, then quickly pack up my tent and drive into town, get on the shuttle and be at the half marathon start at 8:15, instead of the marathon which started at 8:00. So that's what I did. Oddly enough I felt great and started to regret abandoning the marathon. When I got to the half turnaround, I briefly looked on and considered going the full course, as I watched two ladies beside me do, but I knew that could be the path to debilitating injury. Instead, I peeled off my running sandals and finished the half marathon barefoot. Something fun to give me consolation for not running the whole thing. I really enjoyed running those miles barefoot. Tons of other runners called out in shock seeing me run barefoot. A man running the race with his dogs joked with me that the dogs and I were the only barefoot runners out that day. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj0QCK2_8veNtoVoe3DNf58DdNwW-a2k0Qs2S9yFsFGAXiE6f_mfazDeV1Y73W8p3CsTk4zPsXes6kpC-hFkKqTiD62axAfc2jyHHuNrZ_7F2JJeWX4Es06t8pLacZSYPIOFmNTPtxdRs/s1600/sedona1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj0QCK2_8veNtoVoe3DNf58DdNwW-a2k0Qs2S9yFsFGAXiE6f_mfazDeV1Y73W8p3CsTk4zPsXes6kpC-hFkKqTiD62axAfc2jyHHuNrZ_7F2JJeWX4Es06t8pLacZSYPIOFmNTPtxdRs/s400/sedona1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707022395169498898" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzy8C2_x3KPiBRAC0StDHMjBDbA9Z1ag1qXpyNbYGfb80cdX-low77PzGVP5mjQVD3dBzY_V9Vw8Q-aeFuTnFcNsXDnW8rWdLBqmabfu3jSMlwdCy5Ze57rIyt2wJCF6wsyxtMSavUWFU/s1600/00523-05-2928-thumb.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzy8C2_x3KPiBRAC0StDHMjBDbA9Z1ag1qXpyNbYGfb80cdX-low77PzGVP5mjQVD3dBzY_V9Vw8Q-aeFuTnFcNsXDnW8rWdLBqmabfu3jSMlwdCy5Ze57rIyt2wJCF6wsyxtMSavUWFU/s400/00523-05-2928-thumb.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707022187043109474" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I ended up finishing the race feeling great with a barefoot sprint and a 2:03 finishing time, which is good consdereing the elevation and climbing involved in the course. My right leg never bothered me during the run, but paradoxiacally, my left did. As I wrtie this 4 days later, my left is fine, but my right is problematic again.</div><div><br /></div><div>On the shuttle ride back from the race to the parking lot, I sat next to John from Texas and we talked about running, among other things. He said the last time he ran a marathon this guy passed him who was carrying a guitar and playing a song. There were live music bands along this marathon and up ahead was Elvis on stage, so this guy ran up on stage with Elvis and got his picture taken next to Elvis, then ran off. John never caught up to guitar playing runner again. John said to me, this guy must be doing something right. If you aren't out there to have fun then what the heck are you doing?</div><div><br /></div><div><meta charset="utf-8">Driving back across that endless expanse of gorgeous desert and snow covered hills, I also remembered the big picture. I was so caught up in my narrow view of daily life I forgot how big it is out there. I think we all get caught up in so many trivialities day to day, we all could use a fresh perspective from time to time.</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh19VHEtoUYUCS0ImJcJ0zwfgJP244u8c9KiTPQoYTRHUAwJtvys3p9t1KpsRImK1LFxXc1et9QhMkEEPNfQ5D3mWknR36RUHSIvcEX-f_E7ID7k_HvH_x8hgVnPzMI641Oq2ZfQGxjl-M/s1600/6836218535_de363ef855_b.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh19VHEtoUYUCS0ImJcJ0zwfgJP244u8c9KiTPQoYTRHUAwJtvys3p9t1KpsRImK1LFxXc1et9QhMkEEPNfQ5D3mWknR36RUHSIvcEX-f_E7ID7k_HvH_x8hgVnPzMI641Oq2ZfQGxjl-M/s400/6836218535_de363ef855_b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707022860703809586" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div>Zachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13601169801151932681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054096629175980297.post-63209681397680842162012-01-28T23:18:00.000-08:002012-01-28T23:23:00.897-08:00Training days<div>Today was a good day. Warm, sunny an dry. Lots of people out enjoying it, running at the Rose Bowl, swimming at the pool, and putting around Santa Monica getting in my way :)</div><div><br /></div><div>The day started with a late wake up and breakfast, then some swimming. I swung by an endurance store in Santa Monica where Catra Corbett was sharing her stories about running. There was a man there who is running this nonprofit that takes veterans up the worlds 7 tallest peaks, including Everest. So the guy had been to the top of Everest. This was a coincidince because I had just finished reading "Into Thin Air" the previous night. Is life trying to tell me I should climb Everest? </div><div><br /></div><div>Have been struggling recently with a running injury and soar throat that is lasting unusually long. I'm all angry about it because I can't run enough to train properly for the Sedona marathon, which is next week. Nobody ever said ironman training would be easy. After brunch with Catra, I wanted to see if I could do a long ride without any food, since this German guy named Jon who I run with sometimes boasted of riding 92 miles without food. After 75 miles today along PCH, I only have 17 to go, granted his may have had much more climbing, but I did battle fierce winds and rolling hills. I wondered how I'd feel after over five hours of no food and almost nonstop riding. The answer, pretty hungry, but I did feel pretty good and could have kept going, but it was about 6:00 pm when I finished, and dark, me riding without a light.</div><div><br /></div><div>Tomorrow want to do a long trail run in the hills above JPL, at least 13 miles. Please right foot don't throw a fit at me.</div><div><br /></div>Zachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13601169801151932681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054096629175980297.post-31089075471290692092012-01-16T20:18:00.000-08:002012-01-16T20:34:41.737-08:00Training for my first full Ironman<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZiVbzwPBxyDm0PF8f2w_73WTevGtYhJHKr4_OCOr1IDLgzvrrwf30a5EMpmpdk1lvqGcO7PJzWjEY3TPjZumTVL2Q9bmqTeLXu8fIzZaxYYk7UCJIr-ETcQ63JoKInxK9R4nnzr-a-w/s1600/387660_10100538143627687_3618863_55586561_558222413_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZiVbzwPBxyDm0PF8f2w_73WTevGtYhJHKr4_OCOr1IDLgzvrrwf30a5EMpmpdk1lvqGcO7PJzWjEY3TPjZumTVL2Q9bmqTeLXu8fIzZaxYYk7UCJIr-ETcQ63JoKInxK9R4nnzr-a-w/s400/387660_10100538143627687_3618863_55586561_558222413_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698454032598466082" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxaasE6sH1jbmS97-B39zygXTpHWTnHpnKOBNU2iRZJAiCzKYrQPK8aZW02n2WBkp10hsaIykkrxe9-IJokjA6_AT9oNp31nc0pAUG6On3OZA2mVz3og8DGQn-5Nh3154zpTScRJ586rA/s1600/405280_10100563857357167_3618863_55754276_992388089_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxaasE6sH1jbmS97-B39zygXTpHWTnHpnKOBNU2iRZJAiCzKYrQPK8aZW02n2WBkp10hsaIykkrxe9-IJokjA6_AT9oNp31nc0pAUG6On3OZA2mVz3og8DGQn-5Nh3154zpTScRJ586rA/s400/405280_10100563857357167_3618863_55754276_992388089_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698453915139677986" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLYGdTJeMZgEpwIfbFe-xh8xllA921nzRIOoFgJoBP3PJ56CoYieCU2-2Py8qu4p7vWeOA5Uec-5RKhZgfjC0M7T7oVD_KQqT1Yuw-b0Lr7bUdDY_0_c7GpfVF5xu6EbPHdnpUJ1-VIX4/s1600/405280_10100563857357167_3618863_55754276_992388089_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><br /></a>Ironman Coeur d'Alene is 22 weeks out (June 24, 2012) and I am 2 weeks through specific training. I made a new pair of running sandals and I like them, but dry winter weather combined with my huarache running and callouses that have formed on my feet have led to a split callous on the base of one of my toes, so I am running with toe sox in vibram fivefingers again, and thinking about super glueing this split skin back together. I ran the LA 13.1 half marathon yesterday at Venice beach. Woke up feeling very overtrained, which I was, having increased my training volume by more than 20% in the preceding week, so I almost climbed back into bed before heading out but something made me walk out that door. That's good because I don't run 13 miles often enough, and I actually felt pretty good - just 1:51 of steady pace at about 171 heart rate and a sprint finish the last half mile. It was the least fatigued I ever felt in a half marathon, so it's good to know my endurance is increasing.<br /><br /><div>I'm still working on my running form. A critique by my crossfit coach brought to my attention that even though I thought I was running with good form, my right foot has been pronating more than the left and I've not been lifting my knees. With that in mind I had a couple runs that felt really good in a way I hadn't felt before, with high knees and fast turnover, but I could tell from that half marathon that I still have work to do, since my right leg felt noticeably overworked compared to my left. That's a strange thing since I am sure it used to be my left leg that was getting overworked, as recently as two months ago.</div><div><br />Today I was custom fitted to my bike at Velo Studio in Burbank. They put my bike on a stationary trainer and attached motion capture markers to my joints and used cameras and a computer program to analyze my mechanics. We learned that I am right-side dominant, meaning I pedal more efficiently on my right, my bike seat was too low and my handlebars too high. A raise of the seat, bringing it forward a bit, and dropping and rotating the handlebars down, and some instruction on balanced pedaling with three pedaling styles: clawing, ankling and flat shuffling, and I rode home feeling about 15% more efficient on the bike. It turns out I have been riding with a cadence of about 60-65 which is too low, and I've been using too big a gear most of the time, so my focus for ironman is to use a lower gear and attain an average cadence of about 80.<br /><br />My post ironman vacation was approved at work so I am going to start booking things for my summer trip to Europe. Going to ride ahead of the Tour de France again this year in the Pyrenees as part of an 8 person group of strong riders, including Tim Mitchell who I rode with last year and is a Kona Ironman finisher, then explore the Netherlands and get over to England and London for the opening of the 2012 summer olympics.<br /><br />And from the literary realm, here is what has grabbed my attention recently.<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"I think you really should make a radical change in your lifestyle and begin to boldly do things which you may previously never have thought of doing, or been too hesitant to attempt. So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity and conservatism, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within than a secure future."</span> - Chris McCandless aka Alexander Supertramp, from Jon Krakauer's book Into the Wild</div>Zachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13601169801151932681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054096629175980297.post-85523225408898671302011-12-18T18:07:00.000-08:002011-12-18T18:11:36.866-08:00Half ironman in Palm Springs<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjovYioxmUdg5-rY4VPK1dOVqu4bLDiVybe9IJC432TVfpxzihJP13D3UUIo6_N9ziai_KlR5JCkCcQnGAGc__U5hfyfJNhvCqf5R4AOesB0nlT7kqFKSxK7zCbczSd-w1RnrQO6PP-XIQ/s1600/IMG_2700.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 188px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjovYioxmUdg5-rY4VPK1dOVqu4bLDiVybe9IJC432TVfpxzihJP13D3UUIo6_N9ziai_KlR5JCkCcQnGAGc__U5hfyfJNhvCqf5R4AOesB0nlT7kqFKSxK7zCbczSd-w1RnrQO6PP-XIQ/s400/IMG_2700.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687656236114275282" /></a><br /><br />I toted the starting line of my second half ironman distance triathlon event. It was the inaugural HITS Palm Springs race in La Quinta, California. It was a serenly beautiful place to have a race. Everyone asked me where do you swim when out in the desert, and the answer is in a reservoir tucked up against the mountains in the golf resort town of La Quinta. It's a bit under a mile long and half as wide. Taking place in Decmber, this was an off season event on a flat course with cool weather and I was looking forward to a fast time. However, my experience was much more humbling than that, and I learned that even for the strong willed failure is always a possibility. Giving up is not.<br /><br />I knew the swim in this triathlon would be cold. After all, it was December in the California desert and the sun was just coming up. I was there the day before with my camera to photograph the olympic and sprint athletes coming out of the water, and heard many of them complain about not being able to feel their hands and feet; one girl came out crying. I slept well that night knowing there would be no surprise of cold water.<br /><br />I took a quick dip before beginning my 1.2 mile out and back swim. It was cold but didn't make me gasp or seize up. A triathlon is one of the easiest places to make friends. When you're nervously waiting at the start of a race, you exchange names and wish each other good luck, and are glad that they are going into this with you.<br /><br />At 7 am they started the clock and we headed out reluctantly to fulfill our self imposed obligations. I went in with some added confidence thanks to a neoprene swim cap my buddy Ray lent me (he was doing two laps - the full ironman). Like my first half ironman before it, the mayhem of the swim got the better of me. I'm sure I was hyperventilating, and irritated with how the chin strap of the swim cap kind of locked my jaw. I thought to take it off, but then what to do with it, not to mentioned the precious seconds I would need to remove it from under my race cap, and loss of heat through my head. Everybody was pulling ahead of me and and I wanted to keep up. There was so much splashing, my goggles were fogging up, the sun in my face. The sun, as it turned out, was our waypoint, because that was exactly the direction we wanted to swim - due east (there would be no such guide on the way back). Only 5 minutes into the swim I was kinda panicking. It was a mental game; I just had to breath and swim through it. <br /><br />It wasn't too cold at first. The race organizers claimed the water was 57 degrees and I'm sure it wasn't too far from that near the starting line. But I must insist the starting line was sitting in the warmest part of the lake. It only got colder out in the middle and far end. At some point the water started to bite. It's funny how the mind surpresses traumatic memories like these because I don't remember exactly how bad it was but I remember telling myself that this was the most terrible situation I had ever been in. I thought back to reading about Dean Karnazes at around mile 160 of his first 200 mile run, and thinking I must be feeling something like the way he described it - utter defeat. I had taken all I could handle. The lifegaurds noticed I was struggling and offered help, but I quickly brushed them off. It kind of made me feel proud of myself. It's not often I push myself to my own defeat. The lifegaurds heard me throwing up and asked me if I needed help and I quickly dismissed them and said I was fine. But it got worse from there. I backstroked to try to recover my rhythm and it helped. On second half, coming away from the sun, I'm sure I became hypothermic but I didn't realize it at the time. I knew my right hand was curled up and I couldn't uncurl it, but it didn't occur to me that my body was probably draining the blood from the extremities in order to preserve the core - my brain must have been losing blood too.<br /><br />After getting back with about 5 other stragglers (some of whom had to walk back in for lap 2) I walked to the changing tent to get dry and began to realize what bad shape I was in. I was shivvering so badly, I could barely get my wetsuit off, and then couldn't zip my bike jersey up. A race official did it for me. In transition, a woman racer was being taken out to sit in a warm car - I guess I must have looked ok because the same people saw me and let me go out on the bike, and confirmed for when I asked them if I had put my helmet on. I guess I couldn't tell by myself. My mind was clouded and I felt like I had just woken up from surgery. I doubted whether I possessed the coordination to turn a corner on the bike. I was dismayed to find that I couldn't see anyone ahead of me on the bike course, and there was nobody behind; I was alone, and I didn't know the course. I was going to have to rely on the markers. I made a wrong turn at the very first place that I could. I don't remember why - I think I saw a sign with an arrow, or I just assumed the bike course would follow the run course, because I did turn and follow the running cones. So I rode on, still shivering a lot and trying to get warm, noticed that my heart rate was very low, around 110, and tried to raise it. I arrived at an intersection without any sign pointing were to go. That's when I thought that if there is no sign then I probably go straight. So I did, but that road had no shoulder. A car passed and honked at me like I was in the way. I was at a four lane intersection in the desert and in each direction there was nothing. It was like a scene out of an Alfred Hitchock movie. I wondered if an airplane may swoop down from the sky at me.<br /><br />At moments like these of greatest despair, lost on the bike course with no hope of getting a good finish time at this race, I remember thinking - this sucks, but just push on, because you never know what will happen. So I took a pee, and a random car drove up to me at that intersection and must have known I was a race participant and I was lost. I don't know who they were, but they had a map, and they tried to figure help but they were lost too. We eventually did conclude that I should go back the way I came. So I backtracked and talked to a police officer who was working the next intersection. Turns out this was an intersection at about 1/2 way through the bike course (I had rode about 5 miles so far) and he told me to go right. Well, at the next intersection a police officer on a motorcycle gave me an escort and I thought little of it until I saw the half way point, which featured an electronic scanning post to prove you were there, and turnaround. I was the first to arrive! It was weird to have some of the volunteers cheering me on, saying I was doing great; I guess it was not obvious that I was having a hard time and was obviously not contending to win this race - far from it, but I didn't bother talking to anyody. I just took it in and rode on. So eventually I saw for the first time, another rider, who came from behind me. He was a full ironman racer and he was lost too! So we rode together and got even more lost, before a race official on a motorcycle found us and set us back on the course, in the wrong direction. Eventually we saw a lot of riders going the opposite direction and staring suspiciously at us. I eventually realized why - we clearly were not super strong triathletes, but we were leading the race!<br /><br />Eventually the lead racers did pass us, and wow they were bookin' it. We rode on to what was officially the 50 mile mark, and my gps registered only 34 miles. Me and my full ironman compatriot decided to backtrack 8 miles and then come back so we would finally be synced up with the race at mile 50 of the bike, and the rest could be a normal race.<br /><br />I'm really glad I pushed on through that race in spite of how crappy it was going for me. I met some really cool people. It was 2 miles from the finish line during the run and I was passed by a lady, and this was only the second person to pass me the whole run, the first being very early on. I decided to try and keep up and shortly learned why she was such a strong runner: she was an ultrarunner, and had several 100 mile runs under her belt. I excitedly told her my how my biggest long term goal is to do a 100 mile run, but she was more impressed by my other goal of a full ironman. She finished about 30 seconds ahead of me, but when I came in she introduced me to her friend Anne Langstaff, who finished 10 minutes ahead of us. Anne was the female winner of Badwater in 2001. There was music playing at the finish line and we all danced and lip synced to songs.<br /><br />So the moral of the story is that in spite of having a crappy race day, I think I learned to revel in it. It's really quite amusing if you have the right outlook on it. Since my very first marathon was run in torrential wind and rain, and similarly more than half of the various races or big events I have done since then have involved heavy rain, I think I am destined to suffer a little bit more than most, but I'm ok with it. I'll wear it like a badge of honor.<br /><br />I love these races for the comradery. There is a shared understanding of what you're going through, and even though you're supposed to be racing against each other, there is a great deal of respect for the other athletes whether you win or lose. Everybody is routing for everybody else.<br /><br />After finishing my race I drove back and showered, checked out of the hotel and ate lunch, then retrieved my gear from transition and headed out to watch the full ironman finishers come in. They were all finishing after sundown. I was amazed that they all looked fresh, without even a waiver in their step. That's my goal.<br /><br />Finally I will end when some thoughts that have been on my mind while I'm out running and cycling. Running is one of the most intense forms of meditation. You're engaging mind and body in a rhythm for as long as you can. Like making music or a painting, it's something you lose yourself in. To me it's only an added bonus that running makes you eat better, sleep better, feel better and look better. A book called The Pose Method taught me to run by changing support as quick as you can from one foot to another, lean a little bit forward and let gravity pull you down, but then your foot comes down and stops that downword vector and you're left only with the forward motion. I love running because that's all it is, a constant change of support. Simple. No matter where you are, or how bad your current situation is, all you have to do is change your support and you'll be going somewhere. I will never in my life feel a loss for all hope because I belive that if you summon the strength to take just a single step you will be on the road to to a better place. So here's one monkey who's going to keep doing just that, and we'll see where it takes him. He's not giving up, ever.Zachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13601169801151932681noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054096629175980297.post-71154952570333256282011-10-16T13:56:00.000-07:002011-10-16T15:22:54.696-07:00A little bit different than most<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFjLszOhLbdRLHru_A7yjl5APjsJr9HC-sxgp9gZdTgqOvzGfwWg-16NTltpQ0q-LqQwqi34ShnjETUdYhBT8Y_OcphvSXwDoC_rfPGuNgWcS5QuVXCcLsIfmfi1o0XWbUElcJkOxB4i0/s1600/IMG_0700.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFjLszOhLbdRLHru_A7yjl5APjsJr9HC-sxgp9gZdTgqOvzGfwWg-16NTltpQ0q-LqQwqi34ShnjETUdYhBT8Y_OcphvSXwDoC_rfPGuNgWcS5QuVXCcLsIfmfi1o0XWbUElcJkOxB4i0/s320/IMG_0700.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664198015229828258" /></a>It's funny that a year ago I didn't want to ever run a marathon. I enjoyed running but cycling was the only activity I would ever engage for more than 3 consecutive hours. Running hurt too much. No matter how expensive the shoe, running for me always lead to chronic injuries which wouldn't subside until I laid off the running for several days. Then I could run again; <meta charset="utf-8">I could do 3 or 4 miles and be ok. But push 6 or 7 miles, and the pain would come back. So, I thought maybe I just wasn't built to be a runner. I was content to at least be a great cyclist. I could pass almost anyone cycling up hill. But deep down I wished I could run with the best of them.<div><br /></div><div>Then I met an old wise man while climbing a mountain on my bike. We climbed along and got to talking and it turned out he was a newspaper writer and marathon runner and he told me I should read the book: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christopher_McDougall#Born_to_Run">Born to Run.</a> He described it and I told him I thought I had heard of it, but I was mistaken (I was thinking about <a href="http://www.peacefulwarrior.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=45&Itemid=58">Way of the Peaceful Warrior</a> which another friend had suggested. This turned out to be another very good book). This book changed everything. The promise of injury free running no matter how much you run. Really it's crazy. Really, it's true.</div><div><br /></div><div>You should read and enjoy Born to Run yourself. It's a page turner and presents a new theory about humans and running. Central to the point is the idea of barefoot running, or at the very least, running in shoes, but with the same kind of motion you would use if you were barefoot. Therein had been my problem all along. My whole life, lacking a teacher to show me better, I was running in cushioned shoes and reaching my foot out in front of me as I propelled myself forward and landed on my heel. As I turned the pages of Born to Run it all began to make sense and before even my first barefoot run I was already certain that I would learn to run this way, and I would run a marathon and I would run injury free from now on.</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHoo2plSxfiJBJjHmqchE6cNDzlrURpFG9sen1eWQizohBtFuoyNtGMhyphenhyphenBfudVUEbV2bAQjyAz8cLQqndJJi9995qybFH0MSOhRPtJS87u52n9sZpn3JSlGZJasUEzPoUAzXGAiIrbHK4/s1600/Photo300.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHoo2plSxfiJBJjHmqchE6cNDzlrURpFG9sen1eWQizohBtFuoyNtGMhyphenhyphenBfudVUEbV2bAQjyAz8cLQqndJJi9995qybFH0MSOhRPtJS87u52n9sZpn3JSlGZJasUEzPoUAzXGAiIrbHK4/s320/Photo300.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664212692980258466" /></a><br /></div><div>I still sometimes like to run in shoes. They let me run down stairs and jump over stuff with a cushioned landing, but my style has changed. Now there are different pieces of technology I strap onto my feet for different occasions. If it's nice out, I'm putting on my Luna Sandals, the minimalist running sandals from Barefoot Ted, fashioned in Tarahumara style. If there is rain, or if it is cold, or if I will be running through mud, I'll put on my Vibram Fivefingers. And to make sure I'm running in with the best form that I can, every once in a while I'll carry the footwear in hand and give my bare feet some pure freedom.</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know about you, but there's nothing better for my own disposition than to keep an open mind, enjoy healthy food, and run every chance you get. Be a happy monkey and give it a try.</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguqazrlj7frBBR8BXzDaS6Wblxgg2C1OSc7wnuYRcEzTqKG46yLlfCFmPiYWeiZJuf30LZ9ChiN5LxveN7EaHz9S8AGLaSFviUOz6xe4DmWgdByQPnyayO96S5uJEQJi818xq7N8lyqkI/s1600/VeneziaZac.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 187px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguqazrlj7frBBR8BXzDaS6Wblxgg2C1OSc7wnuYRcEzTqKG46yLlfCFmPiYWeiZJuf30LZ9ChiN5LxveN7EaHz9S8AGLaSFviUOz6xe4DmWgdByQPnyayO96S5uJEQJi818xq7N8lyqkI/s320/VeneziaZac.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664218682654941378" /></a><br /></div>Zachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13601169801151932681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054096629175980297.post-89748014864002639212011-10-15T21:51:00.000-07:002011-10-15T21:52:06.523-07:00Start<div>Well, this commences my foray into blogging, which I have put off for years. Though the thought occured to me to do it, I always shrugged it off as a waste of time. I've finally decided to chronicle my adventures because if nothing else I hope to inspire others to live their lives more openly and experience the love for life that I have found. Admitedly I have a self-serving reason for it. I have set some very difficult goals for myself and I don't really know if I can achieve them, and my hope is that by writing about it and sharing with others I will sort of meditate in a way, honing my determination to follow through and do what it takes. I know writing has a very special power and since finishing school, I have neglected it for too long. It's time to bring it back and this is a new beginning.</div><div><br /></div><div>There is a very real and suprising fear that comes with the thought of doing what I am trying to do. It's a sort of internal war of self doubt, like these little demons are inside my head telling me I can't do it, or even if I can, it's too costly in every way and it isn't worth it. It's a self-defeating and disappointing feeling to accept that thought, and that's the kind of thinking which, if I had listened, I never would have done any of the things that have meant the most to me so far in my life. So I am not going to listen and I am going to do everything I can, including writing this blog, to defeat those internal "I can't" demons... I am going to POUND THEM INTO THE GROUND.</div><div><br /></div><div>I regret not doing this sooner. There are so many things I have already learned on this journey that are worth sharing, but I will backtrack for bits and pieces along the way, since everything worth learning is always used again.</div><div><br /></div><div>Let it be known that henceforth I am committed to these goals:</div><div><br /></div><div>1) Qualify for and compete in the Boston marathon</div><div>2) Qualify for and compete in Kona IronMan World Championship</div><div>3) Complete the Western States Endurance Trail Run: 100 miles, 24 hours</div><div><br /></div><div>And if I can do that, well then I have some even better ideas.</div>Zachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13601169801151932681noreply@blogger.com2