ITI training, week three

Monday: Rest, mostly. I did do a three-mile dog walk with Ann in Auburn.

Tuesday: Morning, weight lifting at gym. Afternoon, trail run, 0:53, 5.8 miles, 704 feet climbing. This was my second gym session, so I tried a routine (subject to many future adjustments) of 12 exercises, 12 reps, two sets. There were a few exercises in which I couldn't reach 12 reps the second time around, and lots of huffing and puffing, but I never forced it. I take each rep slowly and if I can't make the exact same motion I used on rep one, it doesn't happen. Eight hours later, I went for a run that was one of my best in months. Seemingly effortless but fast — I thought it would take me weeks to build toward a 9-minute-mile average on this loop, and I came close on Tuesday (9:09 m/m). I'm guessing that's an anomaly more than a trend.

Wednesday: Fat bike, 3:09, 30.9 miles, 3,619 feet climbing. There was a lot less post-gym soreness than last week, although my hamstrings were sore. I decided I'm not going to include lower-body lifts in my gym routine, even though I have tons of fun with the leg press machine. Anyway, I took Snoots out for a ride that included more than enough leg punishment — Bohlman Road, pretty much the steepest four-mile climb in all the land. I challenge anyone to pedal an obese bike up that mountain and see how they feel at the top. I was actually blissed out, because this climb hit that perfect pitch of an effort I almost couldn't handle, to the point where I drifted into a dreamy flow state, but wasn't so difficult that I fell through the bottom into a swamp of stress and frustration. My reward for such undeserved uphill fun was a fast descent through El Sereno, which features big views across the valley as you swoop around high-banked turns. What a great ride. I'm still buzzing about it.

Thursday: Road bike, 1:28, 17.4 miles, 2,401 feet climbing. Montebello Road, still a whole lot harder than I'd like it to be.

Friday: Trail run, 1:12, 6.8 miles, 904 feet climbing, then weight lifting at gym. I felt like I took it easy on the run, but it was hot — I had to change all of my sweaty clothing before I hit the gym — and then I felt awful. It wasn't sore muscles, really ... I just had no energy and couldn't make it through lifts that felt easy on Tuesday. I incorporated three new upper-body exercises, and by lowering weights eventually made it through all the reps. I don't plan to always run and lift on the same day — ideally, I would lift Mondays and run Tuesdays. But on Thursdays or Fridays I hoped to double up. Clearly I should always lift first, since that's the harder workout for me. That feeling of fatigue is a bit brutal and yet satisfying — it's the kind of fatigue that takes many miles of running or biking to experience. For this reason, I'm excited that I'm trying something new.

Saturday: Mountain bike, 4:57, 43.4 miles, 6,674 feet climbing. Still buzzing from my Wednesday ride and ignoring the frustrating activities that followed, I set out for a long ride on Saturday afternoon. It was a warm Halloween Day (probably hit mid-80s.) I took a loop from my house that I hadn't yet tried in full, but it's a perfect combination of truly punishing steep climbs and fun singletrack descents. (Strava map link.) Somewhere before Russian Ridge I ran out of water, and went about 45 minutes without fluid under the hot sun. Even thirstiness did not make me grumpy, as I was really enjoying myself. I can't express how grateful I am that my biking bliss has returned.

Sunday: Trail run, 3:48, 18.3 miles, 3,334 feet climbing. I spent the first five miles catching up with my friend Martina. She split off and I continued toward Black Mountain at a comfortable zone 2 pace, walking when necessary rather than spiking my heart rate. As I hiked, I became unreasonably annoyed at how drenched in sweat my shirt and hair were, and about the sunscreen-laced sweat stinging my eyes, and the fact it was 80-something degrees on November 1, and I hate summer so much summer makes me sick and slow why is it always always summer here ... (trailing off into grumbling.) Then I ate a packet of applesauce and felt a whole lot better. Heh. Most of that temper tantrum erupted from low blood sugar, but I do struggle mentally with just how many months of the year are full-on hot here. The Bay Area has a lot going for it, and I'm not unhappy with my location, but yes, it's a challenge. I'm like a winter-hater in Minnesota, except a lot fewer people can relate to how I feel. And I did run out of water, again, about three miles before a planned stop at a fountain. But I'd already had my temper tantrum, and running out of water was my fault rather than something I couldn't control, so I sucked it up and kept running.

Total: 15:29, 91.7 miles ride, 30.9 miles run, 17,635 feet climbing. These last two weeks have been fairly tough, in good ways. I've been sleeping well and feel energetic in the evening ... once these factors change, I know I need to dial something back. Beat is finally coming out of his pneumonia fog, although he may still be a ways out from feeling up to hard efforts. I'm proud of how well he's taking care of himself ... I certainly didn't do as well back in July.

I will take it easier next week ahead of 100 Miles of Nowhere on Saturday, probably not much running. But I'm especially excited about how great I felt on the bike this week. That is, with the exception of riding Montebello Road specifically, where jitters are getting the best of me. I haven't been this nervous about performance before a non-race in a long time. 

ITI training, week two

Monday: Road bike, 1:32, 17.4 miles, 2,424 feet climbing — I'm starting to feel a little stronger on my bike. But I'm still terrified about the deca-Montebello coming up on Nov. 7. Sadly, Beat was diagnosed with pneumonia this week. He hasn't been able to log any hard training in more than two weeks, so 100 Miles of Nowhere is definitely out for him. He's starting to feel better, but damn, it's been a rough year for our respiratory systems.

Tuesday: Trail run, 0:54, 5.6 miles, 701 feet climbing — In an effort to inject a whisper of "speed work" into my routine, I'm going to make an effort to improve on my regular Tuesday run, a hilly half-pavement, half-trail loop. This pace is about 9:34-minute-mile average. I'm going to work on getting that under 9-minute-miles. Also, I'm hoping to break the top three times for a half-mile downhill segment called "Hill Trail Descent" on Strava. Currently I'm 6th out of 181 women. Isn't Strava fun? I think Strava's fun.

Wednesday: Fat bike, 3:29, 31.3 miles, 4,481 feet climbing — I took Snoots, our expedition Moots fat bike, out for the first time since last winter. Ah, I missed Snoots. She's so sluggish on pavement, and yet so airy on trails. I feel it's an indignity to take her on anything but snow, however, I need to get reacquainted with the nuances of fat bikes. A slog up Highway 9 was rewarded with fun rollers on Skyline Ridge and the always-gleeful John Nichols Trail descent just as the sun was setting.

Thursday: Weight lifting at gym. As this was my first time at the gym, I treated this as a practice session. I tried out all the machines at different weights until I reached my limit, then did a handful of reps two notches below that weight. After reading several texts on the subject, I've decided circuit training with machines will best fit my needs for now. In hoping to continue with 12 exercises, 12 reps times two, two times per week. But for just playing around, I was *really* sore the next day. Beat could make me wince just poking my shoulders. This is disconcerting, I have to admit.

Friday: Trail run, 1:28, 8.3 miles, 1,169 feet climbing. My upper body felt too sore for bike riding. Hmph. Running, I felt pretty good, albeit a little on the slugglish side.

Saturday: Mountain bike, 4:08, 37.2 miles, 5,376 feet climbing. Liehann set out for his weekly hill climb ride. He aims for four-hour rides, which is a good block of riding for me right now. We rode up Grizzly Flat and along Long Ridge, including my nemesis, the Sunny Jim Trail. I can't always climb Sunny Jim without dabbing, but I made it on Saturday. I also managed a Grizzly Flat climb PR, which tells me I'm probably stronger right now than I think.

Sunday: Trail run and hike, 5:30, 23.4 miles, 3,922 feet climbing. A out-and-back variation of the Cal Loop on the Western States Trail outside Auburn. I ran the first 14 miles at a fairly fast pace with Bruce and then hiked the last 10 with Bruce and Ann. As a workout, I think run/hike is a good format for my winter training, as I get a wide range of intensity plus longer time on my feet without the beatdown of a long run. In many ways, it's most difficult to stay in shape for long bouts of walking, yet this may prove to be a decent percentage of the "ride" to Nome, depending on conditions. Everything depends on conditions, which is what makes training for this event such a puzzle. I need to hedge my bets with a little of everything.

Total: 17:03, 85.9 miles ride, 37.3 miles run, 18,072 feet climbing.

Moving forward on the Western States Trail

This weekend I traveled out to Auburn to record a few interviews with Ann Trason. I've been wanting to work on a biography about Ann for two years now, but pushed the project to the back-burner last year when we reached what I felt was an impasse. I operate best as a visual writer, which requires a lot more details than a bullet list of of accomplishments with quotes from people who were on the periphery. Since I wasn't there to witness any of the events I want to write about, I have to rely on Ann for these details. It's a problem, because Ann feels mortified by even the idea of talking about herself. She's an extremely private person, and that's okay. But as self-effacing as she can be, I think she understands that she's led an extraordinary life, and has a story that's worth telling.

The only window I've ever found with Ann is when she's running — out on the trails, she lets the stories flow out, and they're wonderful. Somewhat belatedly, I realized that I need to carry a voice recorder with me when she invites me for a run, collect the steam-of-consciousness, approach her contacts with questions to fill in the holes, and then use existing archives to connect stories and facts on a timeline. The issue, of course, is carving out the time to do the journalistic detective work needed to reconstruct a narrative. And lately, there's also been the issue of injury. Ann recently had knee surgery and probably needs another. She hasn't been running, and without her outlet, the quiet settles back in.

Two weeks ago, Ann purchased her dream home: an airy 1940s single-level house with a large garden at the top of Robie Point in Auburn, California — mile 99 of the Western States course. Ann feels a deep connection with the Western States 100 race and trail, and understanding that connection, I believe, is one of the keys to unlocking her narrative. She's been able to walk longer distances recently, so she invited me to join her and a friend for a run/hike on the Cal Loop segment this weekend.

The plan was for her friend, Bruce, and I to run segment along the river to collect leftover ribbons from the 50K trail race she organized last weekend, then loop back and meet her as she hiked down from Foresthill. Bruce, an old-school ultrarunner who has been around long enough to consider Ann one of the "kids," pulled me along at what I did not consider a conversational pace, chatting up a storm about the sport in the early 1980s. He coached me on my downhill technique — "Run like you're running in place. Don't think too hard about it. Look ahead, don't look at the ground" — and then flew up hills as I gasped behind him and tried to ask questions when I could catch my breath. Here's a guy in his 60s who has been running long distances for 40-plus years, and still runs hard.

"What's the secret to your longevity?" I asked him.

"Don't think too hard about it," Bruce recommended. "Just run."

After 15 miles of running we caught up with Ann and hiked with her for nine miles. We told her we filtered water out of the American River and she wondered why we didn't just wait until a perennial stream that was a half mile ahead.

"I didn't know about that stream," Bruce answered, and she wondered aloud with a tone of innocent amazement how he'd forgotten about that particular stream. Ann knows this trail inside and out, and still loves it after all these years, after all these miles, even when she can only walk its corridors at what to her is a frustratingly stilted pace. From my perspective — as someone who finds the California foothills pretty, but not stunning, and the climate unpleasantly dry and hot — it's an interesting intellectual challenge to surmise the root of her passion. She's traveled all over the world, gone on many adventures, won many races, and still she returns her love here, to this dusty trail where it all started.

I wonder if it's as simple as that. This is where it all started — where a friend took a high school track star who had a disappointing college career on a 30-mile trail run that launched 14 Western States wins and a lifelong relationship with this place. Although I can't relate to her level of success, I do see my love of the Susitna River Valley mirrored in Ann's Western States Trail. Ann's oak-dotted hills and yellow pine forests are my frozen swamps and black spruce stands. Maybe it's as simple as that.

After unwinding with the 18-mile hike, Ann was ready to retackle her home-improvement projects on Monday. I spent the day holed up in the crawl space of her new home, plying through boxes and file cabinets filled of old newspaper clippings, magazines, and correspondence. It was a fascinating if brief journey into her past, and helped me form a clearer picture of the depth of her accomplishments. In doing so, I realized that the reason I want so much to write about Ann is not because she was great, and not even because she was great outright in an era heavily dominated by men. I admire Ann for her passion. Finding a way through all the barriers into the bright core of this passion will be an adventure in itself, and an honor.