Lemon Grass and Crisp November Skies

I had some comp time at work so decided to take off early today and put in some trail time. Headed downtown to the Vietnamese restaurant for the buffet, then north to Detweiller Park. For some reason I've never tried this trail system. What a shame I waited this long. It is not extensive in terms of miles, but there are some brutal climbs. I did the north loop of the Pimetoui Trail (not the Forest Park loop of the same name) which starts as a 150 or so foot climb, crosses the road, drops down into a creek valley through some stands of bamboo (Bamboo Creek, anyone?), then loops back about a half mile for the big downhill. I was pretty sluggish from the buffet so I hiked most and slow jogged the steep downhills. The bluffs were encased in late season sunshine, and temps, while not warm, were in the mid-40s. I loved the solitude and the views off the ridges of the bluffs and river valley to the east. Put in about 30 minutes there, skipping the southern trail system, and then headed 10 minutes or so north to Robinson.

Some kid put about 2 miles worth of trail in out here for an eagle scout project. He's got bridges over the creek crossings and they're working on putting bark down. I was out here a few weeks ago with Keegan and we got as far as the iron bridge before he got tired. Today I followed the Illinois River Bluff Trail all the way to Camp Wokanda, did a few of the paths there and then headed back. What a great concept to connect along the bluffways. You drop down into these huge basin ridges and it feels like you're in the Appalachians or something. The width of the ridge bottoms is unlike any other trails in the area. Typically the terrain is steep and your view of the next ridge fairly limited, primarily due to the youth of most of the stream valleys around these parts. I was so stoked to finally try this connector trail. I'm hoping they proceed with it and hook up Forest Park, Detweiller and Robinson via the bluff trail. My buddy has told me this is the plan, but of course one never knows about these things until they are actually completed. I put in 1:07 and headed home to a dinner of homemade chicken noodle soup and then took Keegan to the EC bball game tonight (win 64-62). Life ain't all bad.

soundtrack: Johnny Cash "When the Man Comes Around" (thanks, snyd)

Untitled

Recovery from Glacial has gone nicely. Went out to Forest Park this morning and put in a 2:24 run/power hike. The leaves are finally all down, providing a nice thick mulchy running surface and conveniently covering all roots and rocks. In a word, perfect. The temps have still been pretty moderate for late November. This morning was 38 or so, but with no wind it really was nice. Great run. Goals in the near future: 3-hour rogaine orienteering event at Jubilee State Park, 12-3; Deer Run Run 8k, 12-10; McNabb, Illinois Fat Ass 50k (not whole thing), 1-8-06; McNaughton Park 30 mile, 4-18-06.

I finished reading George Crane's follow up to Bones of the Master, Beyond the Temple of the False Lama. I was expecting the sequel to be a journey back to Mongolia with Tsung Tsai to complete the first book. Crane goes back to Mongolia (northern China) but without his mentor. Most of the book deals with Crane's Hunter Thompson-esque travels and misadventures. I would recommend skipping right to the last third, although his return trip is alot less illuminating than the initial foray into the mystical land of shamanism. Crane is an interesting enough fellow, but without Tsung Tsai the book lacks the spiritual depth and the ability to hold interest that Bones had. Crane tries too hard to be Henry Miller, one of my all-time favorite writers that he references several times, and Buddha knows, there was only one Miller. Crane ain't him.

Soundtrack: Bobby Darin, Bobby Darin Story , the original 1959 album on vinyl.

Whiskeytown, Stranger's Almanac- A bit on the ballady side but there's no denying Adams is a hell of a songwriter.

Ham on Rye

Keegan and I went exploring around Robinson Park on Saturday. The boy scouts (god love em') were out cutting new trails and putting up wooden bridges. I guess they're good for something after all. I quit Webelos after one meeting, remembering the Groucho Marx maxim about groupthink. The trail is a nice loop cut through the ravine, I'd guess about 2 miles, but the cool thing is that there is now an iron bridge that links over to Camp Wokanda, where there are several miles. Despite an abundance of 5 year year old energy from KJ, we only made it as far as the bridge, about an hour total, so I have yet to explore the connector trail and the entirety of Wokanda's offerings. Still, I'm stoked about yet another place to run in the area.

Under the great Tulip Tree in Oakland Cemetery, cold Amber Bock in hand, I remember what I love about Charles Bukowski. It has been about 12 years since I've last read his stuff, having read virtually all of his novels and much of his poetry, and you know, sometimes the memory dulls what the spark of a writer can do to one's soul. I give you exhibit A, B, and pick a letter:


To The Whore Who Took My Poems -Charles Bukowski

some say we should keep personal remorse from the
poem,
stay abstract, and there is some reason in this,
but jezus;
twelve poems gone and I don't keep carbons and you have
my
paintings too, my best ones; its stifling:
are you trying to crush me out like the rest of them?
why didn't you take my money? they usually do
from the sleeping drunken pants sick in the corner.
next time take my left arm or a fifty
but not my poems:
I'm not Shakespeare
but sometime simply
there won't be any more, abstract or otherwise;
there'll always be money and whores and drunkards
down to the last bomb,
but as God said,
crossing his legs,
I see where I have made plenty of poets
but not so very much
poetry.

Octubre

On the 15th Pam, her son, and I went out to Jubilee for the orienteering event. We did the yellow course, spending most of the time trying to find direct routes rather than taking the trails. I still need work with the compass and rough navigating. There is another meet in early November north of Springfield at Camp Silca and I'd like to try it. Addictive.

I'm just now starting to get back to some light training since Glacial. I've only been out a couple of times since the race and then only for short, light runs. So far I've felt good, I don't think anything was injured newly in the race. The broken toe still pains, but it's manageable. This weekend I think I'll try a longer run, maybe 2 hours or so on the trail. This is the absolute best of time of year to run around these parts. The days are still somewhat warm, the evenings crisp and cleansing, and the trees, although supposedly not as stark this year due to drought, are at their absolute peak color right now. Not sure about running goals. I feel that a 50 miler is definitely doable, although what form that will take, I know not. McNaughton 30 miler in April is my next race goal, and a possible 50 mile later in '06 if all goes well.

Glacial Trail 50k

"Be like water flowing over the rocks-the water flows constantly, not stopping to consider its path around the next stone." -Takuan Soho

This is one of my favorite quotes about how to live life. Never did it take on as much literal meaning as this weekend at the Glacial Trail race. Maybe in his meditations Takuan visited the North Kettle moraines.

On a day when 40,000 people ran in the streets of the windy city for the Chicago Marathon, some of us were 150 miles north in the woods of east central Wisconsin for the Glacial Trail Trail Runs near the small town of Greenbush. I arrived with Kim and Keegan on Saturday afternoon at our hotel in Plymouth, just in time for a dinner of chicken and rice and the obligatory pint of Blue Moon (carbs, baby).

Race morning started for me at 4:00 a.m. when sleep decided to leave me to my nervous energy. Today was to be a test of faith and an experiment of the self. It has been only five months since I resumed training coming off last fall's fracture. Pam and I both were starting this event on much lower mileage than in the past. My long runs were 3, 3 1/2, 4, 4 1/2 hours, all on the hilliest trails we can find in this area and at a slow pace. Weekday runs were sporadic and only around 5k or so each. In addition to worrying a bit about being undertrained, my knee has been twinging just from walking for the last few weeks.

The morning air was slightly chilly, in the low 40's, but the day promised sunny skies and highs in the 60's, absolutely ideal conditions. After filling the bottles we drove out to the start at the fire station in Greenbush. We met up with Pam and Ron and headed to the start. Kim and Keegan saw me off at 7:00 as we shuffled off into the sunrise-bathed streets. My biggest concern, the IT band area of my right knee, was already twining within minutes of the start, but my feeling was that as things loosened up the pain would be absorbed for 7 1/2 hours or more, and if not, I would find a way to cope. The first half mile is on roads, from there onto a short stretch of trail that took us through a gorgeous stand of bowered pine, and then onto the Ice Age Trail, where we would spend the next 30 or so miles.

The plan was, per usual, to run the flats and downhills, and power walk the ups, keeping to our training pace, staying hydrated, and eating whenever offered. Got a scare about 5 minutes into the Ice Age Trail when I hit one of the 1000s of rocks and rolled my left ankle. I was able to take it in stride and keep moving, our hill training holding me in good stead as nothing felt injured and the pain minor. A nice way to start the morning and wake up.

Did i mention rocks? This trail is littered with them and demands focus and respect at all times, lest one violate this code and pay with blood.

We hooked up with old ultrarunner at mile 4 who hung with us and kept us occupied with chatter. The first aid station is at mile 7-ate a banana, a few pretzels, and refilled my bottles. I took a succeed cap at about 2 hours just to cover the electrolyte bases. We soaked in the beauty of the trail and felt strong between the 7 mile and Butler Lake aid station at 13.1 miles. The midway point is just beyond this scenic lake and it's here that I got my first twinge of hamstring trouble while descending one of the small hills.

At about the 18 mile mark I started feeling some real tightness in my hammies and Pam's IT band and legs were kicking in. We encouraged each other to stay strong and focused. Despite getting into that semi-meditative state of focusing only on the moment and the trail of front of me, tired legs made it difficult to pick my size 13's up enough to clear every rock. The result was stubbing the toes several times and almost (but not) going down. This resulted in two problems: The first being that each stub was hammering the hell out of my feet, and secondly was that my hamstring would completely seize up, making it tough to even walk without pain. This where my very limited long run experience came in. In my first 50k, at the six hour mark I tripped and went down. My legs were completely locked and cramped. I mentally panicked, thinking my day was over and all the training futile. Struggling to my feet (insert "Chariots of Fire" or some shit) I got to hobbling and miraculously after a minute the muscles bounced back and stretched, allowing me to finish. The lesson was to just keep moving and allow my body to adjust and regulate itself. I'd been there before, and knew what it felt like and how to cope.

At the 20 mile mark the ebbs and flows of energy and mood kicked in. The beauty of the forest helped alleviate the low points. The foliage, while not at peak, was plenty colorful, especially considering that back home things are still green. The last aid station came at about 24 miles, more banana slices and a few rice krispie bars (damn good) helped give a boost to the legs. Pam, the optimist of our team, thought a sub-8 hr. finish was possible, while I, ever the slacker, didn't know where we stood on splits but didn't want to jinx anything, thinking that 8:20 might be more realistic. I have to work on my attitude.

The home stretch was a beautiful power hike/occasional run up and down the hill of the kettle moraine forest, up and down the range of emotion. With three miles left we knew it was in the bag and the adrenaline kicked in. Pam picked up her pace and I followed. The last mile cuts through the pine cathedral where we started and onto the strees of the Greenbush. We walked the hill, always leery of pavement, but ran in the last 1/4 mile, knowing that we had our sub-8. Kim and Keegan were there at the finish and Pam and I crossed the line and collected the sweet finisher's shirts 7 hours 52 minutes after starting this spiritual journey.

What an honor and a blessing to be able to get out and do this, to feel wholly alive and energized. The only thing missing at the finish was Dad. He was there at the QQ finish, almost 2 years ago, just one month after his surgery and cancer prognosis, and on this day I have no doubts it was his spirit that was the sun shining through those trees and illuminating the way. Thanks to Pam for being an awesome partner in trail crime and Kim and Keegan for supporting my lunacy every step of the way. How awesome to see them at the finish. I have to say also, those two bowls of chili were the best I've ever had.

Enough fluff, now the damage: One day later I'm very sore and it's not a walk, but a hobble. The bottom of my right foot is bruised up and the second toe on my left foot is badly purpled and probably broken. Chalk it up as a sacrifice to the trail. It's all worth it and I coulnd't be happier.

I probably need to lose 10 or 15 pounds, do more speedwork, work up more gradually to long runs, figure out what imbalances are leading to these hamstring issues (probably being fat), and do more overall mileage. All things to ponder and work towards. But for today I am a slightly stronger person, changed in some subtle ways. Many lessons learned along the trail and many, many more to learn in my future. The journey continues...