2014 Mt. Diablo Trails Challenge - 50K

     I stopped posting to this blog over a month ago.  Nothing new in that - logging off for a month at a time has been part of my style in the last few years.  I've had to face the fact that my day only has 24 hours, and a small fraction of those must be spent sleeping.  The other 18 or so must be split between a list of elective and non-elective events, similar no doubt to the list that you have compiled, prioritized (or triaged - you know those days), and failed to execute as often as I.

     But, that is not why I stopped posting to this blog.  I stopped posting to this blog, because I was tired of the regular updates about my foot and the recovery process.  I was up one week, and then down the next 2.
     At the end of February, I was settling into my training for the Mt. Diablo 50k, after sitting out the entire fall and most of the winter with my torn (my diagnosis) Plantar Fascia.  In spite of the pain, the training clock was running.

     I don't even recall what the day was, but I was hoping for a 24 - 26 mile training run.  After 15 miles and a clenched fist full of tough climbs and excruciating descents I altered my plan in duress, navigating down trails that would cut the route and head me toward home.  My foot was screaming, both knees were aching from landing wrong on my hobbling stride; I was crippling myself in real-time.

     I called Bec to complain, but she was away from the phone and didn't pick up.  When she called back I was hurting, angry, disappointed, despondent, and the list goes on.  I asked her to come pick me up.  Never had I made this request before, it was lame, I was done.  Done with training for this blasted race; done with running through pain; done with exposing myself in the stupid blog.  She found me a half mile from home - and I took the humiliating ride because it hurt that bad.

     I sat out for 2 weeks.  I was so angry after that run, that I didn't ice, didn't elevate, didn't compress, didn't do anything that would help me heal from a rather brutal beating.  I paid for it over the next few days, and then pulled myself together to start treating the injuries properly.  The rest and treatment paid off.

     A longing to run began to return.  I'm a runner.  I can't not run.  Just over 1 month ago, after sitting out for those 2 weeks, I headed out for what would be a pivotal run.  I ran a familiar route from the house, over the Shell Avenue hill, and up a staggeringly steep fire road behind Alhambra High School.  I was winded at the top. Two weeks had sucked a little life out of my cardio. I paused and looked around to take in the ever-changing beauty of the spring hillsides, then stopped the music and pulled out the earphones as a realization overshadowed me like one of those huge puffy clouds passing in front of a mid-day sun - my foot wasn't hurting.  No pain, at all.

     I twisted my foot about and stomped it a couple times, then started talking to God.  See, He and I chat a lot on these runs.  This was going to be a quick, one-sided chat, but a very poignant one for me.

     "God," I began.

     I knew I had his attention, but I feel it's always good to start off a conversation with unseen beings by addressing them by name.  It helps bystanders.

     "God, thank you, so much, for the opportunity to run.  And, more than that, thank you that I'm up here right now - and my foot doesn't hurt."

     Understand that I have many conversations with God, and I don't like to be presumptuous as we chat.  I'm just little old me, and He's, well, God.  Keeps a person humble if they think on it very long.

     "I don't know what to say, other than thank you.  But, I have a bit of a dilemma here.  I have given up training for the 50k because of my foot.  I'm 4 weeks out from the race, and I'm not sure if I have enough time to get fit for a run that long - no less a race.  But here's what I propose.  If you keep me pain free (or pretty close) for the next 4 weeks, I will train hard to get as close to being prepared as I can.  If you bring back the pain, then I will back off and take it as your plan for me to sit this one out.  And - it's all good.  Whatever happens, it's good.  Your will - Your way"

     I had been vacillating for months between the facets of this decision.  When not in excruciating pain, I could imagine running the necessary distances to get back in shape.  I had been limping just to walk for the previous 5 months.  Actual training for this race was a shot in the dark at best, and only made possible by an overactive ambition.  I had paid for the insurance on my race registration when in a moment of immense optimism I had signed up for the race; I could get the $100 back if I needed to.  I ran in pain for many weeks before the fateful training run that I never finished.  Every run, and probably 7 times a week I asked myself or my wife if I was crazy to be training for this race.  Each time the answer was the same - probably.

     I paused to wait for a reply, yet the stillness was not split by a peal of thunder, nor the hillsides shaken by His voice.  I started the music.  I resumed running, and waited for the answer to play out.

     I upheld my end of the bargain.  I picked up my training as if I had never quit, as if I had been training for months, and the race was only 4 weeks away.  In competitive running and training lingo, this would be referred to as - Stupid.  My next 3 runs were flush with hills, and each over 20 miles.  I took one week to taper and my long run was 12 miles - a week before the race.  My foot was not hurting me on my runs; after the run and at other times, yes, I was doing a lot of treatment with anti-inflammatories and ice to manage the pain, but I could run over 25 miles without so much as a limp.

     Race day, Saturday 4/19/2014, I toed the line with 157 other runners, shivering in the cool dawn, crowding into patches of sunlight to stay warm.  A driving beat set to Braveheart style bagpipe music, pumped from the loudspeakers after the 10 second countdown.  A herd of half dressed humanity was unleashed on the Diablo foothills.

     My personal goal, 11 months ago, was to finish the 2014 50k in the top 10.  I have finished 15th and 19th in the past.  This morning I had modified that goal to simply - finish.

     My friend, Matt Fowler, had crushed me with kindness by offering, not only to drive me to the start so that Bec and the girls could sleep in, but also to meet me at mile 24 and pace me to the finish.  Having never run with a pacer, I was not prepared for the psychological boost it would provide.  Just having a friend to chat with, and someone to share my discomforts was liberating.  My last 7 miles had always been the worst.  Today they were my best.   I managed to move up several positions as I passed one racer after another - suffering just a little more than I was.

     Cramps were an issue at the half-way point and near the end, but nothing like in years past.  I consumed enough calories throughout the run to sustain the typical  human for several days and enough electrolytes to make the Dead Sea jealous, and drank several liters of colored liquid labeled innocuously as, "energy drink," though I suspect you could run your car on the stuff.

     The first year I ran this race my time was 6 hours: 29 minutes in the blazing heat; and 5 hours: 50 minutes last year.  Today - 6 hours: 6 minutes.  To say I'm pleased would be understatement.  With a minimum of training hours, I managed to run 31.1 miles in spectacular time.

    My place?  Well, not so spectacular.  The field was extremely competitive, and fulfilling my objective of finishing in the top 10 would have been - amazing.  As we were running up the first few hills, it became obvious that I was not ready to run with the big dogs, and a serenity settled over me as I reminded myself to "run my own race."  I was happy, but I was not amazing.  I finished in 34th place.

     In the time that I had finished 19th last year - 25 racers had already finished today.  10th place today came across the line in 5 hours and 13 minutes.

     I sit and smile to myself.  Could I have pulled 5:13 out of my running hat if I had trained all year as I had planned to?

     I sit and continue to smile.  The answer to that question is the answer to the "What if?" that has plagued the unfortunate for ages.  And yet I don't feel unfortunate.  I am blessed.  My God answered my prayer 4 weeks ago with His version of, "Sure, why not."

     Thanks.  I really enjoyed running today.  I sincerely appreciate it.

Sunrises

Saturday I almost beat the sun to Briones peak.  I left the Mt. Wanda staging area on my bike in the dark, though a glow in the eastern sky indicated that the race was on.  I could leave in the middle of the night and sit atop the summit to gloat over my rival as it peeks over the horizon.  But that isn't sport - so I offer my competitor a minor handicap.   I sleep in a little.  

About 10 minutes from the summit - I'm not going to
make it in time...

But once I'm out of bed, the odds begin swinging rapidly in the sun's favor.  An extra minute spent looking for arm-warmers or low tire pressure can give the orb a distinct advantage.  Galileo may rest in peace, I understand that my solar rival is actually doing nothing at all, merely pouring energy into the ether as our planet rotates my little town and Briones Regional Park in its general direction.  I on the other hand, dogged by the passive inevitability of an inanimate rival, must  haul myself and a bike 1500' up and along rutted trails.  I sweat, while it simply shines.  The sky grows brighter the higher I climb, and on a good morning, the clouds ignite overhead with the radiant heat of the sun flaring across the local atmosphere.  If I time it just right, I reach the peak a few minutes before the sun does. Saturday I slept in about 5 minutes too long.

I don't relish riding the trails in complete darkness, even with my lights.  Let's just say that the rustling along the trail is easier to ignore when there's a little daylight.  The time between the sky's first glow giving at least a silhouette to the trees and the time of a visible sunrise varies across the seasons, but is generally enough time to get from the park entrance to the highest points in the park - If I hurry. 

This accomplishment is made simpler in the winter, since from the perspective of Briones Peak, the elevation of the eastern horizon is greater toward the south.  In the summer, the sun rises, albeit much earlier in the morning, to the north of Mt. Diablo where the horizon is lower and less obscured.  Toward the end of Autumn the sun is rising nearly right between the 2 peaks, and finally as winter sends the rising sun furthest to the south, the sun actually rises just south of the mountain after climbing the Diablo foothills.

But only from this vantage point...  Everything I've just described is only true as viewed from one place on earth - the summits of Briones Regional Park.

The following pictures were taken on Sunday morning on my 12 mile run through the Carquinez Strait Headlands.  You can see - though obscured by clouds along the horizon - that the sun is rising to the left or north of the mountain, while above in the pictures from Saturday, the sun rises to the right or south.

Looking East

Looking North-East 30 minutes later

This picture actually looks a little bit like winter.  By the end of my run on Sunday, the marine layer had moved in to completely obscure the sky, and the temperature actually seemed to drop as the morning dawned.  But no rain.  The drought continues.

Welcome Back

The sun was up before I reached Briones Peak - I felt somewhat disappointed.  The last quarter mile of trail up and over the top leads south-east so instead of seeing Mt. Diablo back-lit by the glowing embers of a new day, I was dazzled, stumbling blindly across the ridge.  Saturday dawned a warm morning for January, so by the time the sun was up, I was already sweating and feeling over-dressed.  It was 37 degrees when I drove away from the house, but after sweating up hills for an hour I found I had overdressed.  The tights were too much after a 5 mile run with 1000' of elevation gain, and I found shorts to be quite comfortable as I transitioned to the mountain bike.  I didn't regret the change.  Run, Bike, Sweat, Burn.  No rain in months and, alas, none in the forcast, so the trails are quite nice.  It got up to 70 degrees.

I think I can announce that I am officially running again.  So far so good anyway.  I've been experimenting with some short slow runs, and have been hesitant to make any bold statements.

With a hand-full of 5 mile runs and solid 9.5 mile run over the last couple weeks, I feel I may be back in the sport.  All the research I've perused regarding "coming back" from an injury reflects a cautious, slow, measured approach - in direct opposition to my inclination.  I'm all eagerness to be back running and the odds of me over-doing it are great.  My cardio is already there and my legs are catching up fast since I've been peddling away the miles during my recovery, and though my Plantar Fasciitis is still in slow retreat, the running doesn't seem to be affecting it one way or the other; all of which means that I'm likely to start running faster and further than I should - before I should.

With a little patience, in a few weeks all of the residual pain from the plantar fascia should be completely replaced with the standard assortment of hard earned sore muscles.

I can't remember where I said it - and it may have been here in this blog, I haven't gone back to check - but it came out so naturally that it surprised even me.  I was chatting with someone about my recovery and all the running I had missed, and frankly feeling a little morose.  My comment was, "I've missed a lot of sunrises."  And it has occurred to me that part of running, for me, is experiencing the raw natural world.  The sunrise is mine when I'm running.  The wildflowers are mine.  The startled deer and coyote are mine.  The scent of a sea breeze still hanging in the air on a foggy morning is mine.  I share them with God alone.  I've missed those times of running through His garden with Him.  Sometimes we chat, but most times we just run along together enjoying each other's company.  I think Saturday morning in that dazzling burst he said, "Welcome back."

A Movie

I haven't made a movie in a long time. All of the good movie makers cost money, and the ones that come free with windows are frustrating at best.  But, I've put together a very simple one of today's ride.

My in-laws gave me a small video recorder for Christmas and today it got its first bike ride.  I will make a handful of adjustments in the future, but here's a sample of the first attempt.

You will be watching my descent from Table Top, just east of Briones Peak, heading north down Spengler trail.  I would have inserted some sort of cartoonish whapping noise when the branch hits me in the head, but alas, I only get one audio track at a time... See paragraph 1 above.

Enjoy.

Not Dead

My absence from writing in this blog may leave the reader wondering if my injuries were fatal after all.  After 2 crashes, I must admit that I spent some time away from the bike.

But the true cyclist, like the true runner, is addicted to the sport and time off is a heavy burden to bear.  And no, my foot has not healed, so running is still not an option.

I admit that I have not sat astride my road bike since I stepped off it battered and beat and tossed it into a friends car for a short ride back to my truck.  I still have significant scars and the one last scab on my elbow just disappeared the other day after my shower.

But I have been cycling.  The cash I've been hiding for well over a year in anticipation of a new road bike got spent on a sweet mountain bike.  Yes, the GT has been relegated to a parts supplier after many miles together.

She's a Specialized Stump Jumper FSR with Fox full suspension, a mix of Shimano XTR and Sram components, dropper saddle, and more levers and adjustments than I can keep up with.  It's far more bike than I can ever do justice to, but I'm loving it anyway.

I've been out on it close to a dozen times, since my hand recovered enough to support my weight, and frankly haven't missed the road bike too much.  I still look at the roadies and shake my head thinking, "boy that looks dangerous."  I think I still have some recovering to do.

MTB Cross Training

Since my foot is taking its sweet ol' time to recover, I've ramped up my cycling to keep the legs and lungs from going into hibernation.

Here is the picture sequence I took at the top of my first climb on Saturday morning.  It's that time of year when the sun rises like a volcano between the twin Mt. Diablo peaks - as viewed from Briones.

Project Completed

The project is finally done.
Siding, Roof, Soffits, and a thousand other tangential projects that either sachet'd or shouldered themselves in alongside the big one.

Ella's new window completed

Gianna's new window completed

Re-coat on patio (because the construction work destroyed the last one), new patio step (because I got the new coating on the last one), finished siding and roof

Only 4 or 5 years later... The front porch gets stained.  That's 3 colors layered to look like a "natural" surface.

Cute huh?

What to do with those ugly pipes?

The flowers and leaves are scroll-cut out of an old aluminum street sign.  Ella, myself and finally the artist, Bec, had a hand in these details.

Ouch!

I've completed no additional work on the house since my last posting.  Nada.

Pinnacles National Monument

Instead, for 4 days we went... um, well we went...Away - let's just call it away.  You can't exactly call anything that happens inside the confines of a Thousand Trails "Campground" camping.  Meals prepared for you if you like, restrooms cleaned daily, multiple swimming pools, and a convenience store with not a single tent in sight aren't exactly included in the traditional definition of camping.  However, sleeping in a real bed and watching movies until early morning with my wife sure beats the inflatable mattress and fluttering tent flaps that ordinarily supplement the Family Camping routine.

**I must digress and assuage any doubt that I retain the outdoors gene.  I do.  I'm currently planning with a group of men for a 1 week assault on the 200+ mile long John Muir Trail from Yosemite to Mt. Whitney scheduled for some time next summer.  I'm fairly certain no restrooms will be found along that trail.**

But as I was saying, my family escaped the Bay Area for nearly 4 days. I slept-in every single day, upon which I found my daughters crowding Bec and I out of our own bed for possibly the first time in my life.  We swam in the pool twice, crawled around in caves, and watched a Civil War Reenactment - all spontaneously and with no great thought to schedule (other than the comment "if we don't get moving - the place will be closed before we get there").



We were south of Silicon Valley - just outside of Hollister, CA - a second choice after our Yosemite campground was closed for the Rim Fire spectacle.  The campground was in the middle of what I call the California Desert.  This corner of the Central Valley is characteristically fertile, providing spectacular yet paradoxical vistas.  The bright secondary colors of farms and vineyards are denoted and sustained by the strategic placement of one simple additive - water.

So those were my views on my Sunday morning run.  Well, actually it turned into more of a Sunday morning walk, hobble, limp, run, walk, hobble, run...you get the idea.  The Plantar Fasciitis that I've been staving off for weeks finally had its way with me.  My left foot was sore out of the gate and only grew worse as I went. I only managed 12 miles in about 2 hours and alas, even that has left me in severe pain and off my feet as much as possible for the rest of the day.  Packing the truck was interesting.  It was a bad run which probably should have been omitted.  But as usual, if nothing else, it afforded some beautiful views of California awakening.

No - you've never heard of Paicines.  There is a small store in the distance at the town intersection, which was a "short run" midpoint option for my out and back run.  I never even made it that far.  The town line was far enough for me.

Vineyards on the hillsides

Not sure what's growing here.  One of the fields was carrots.  I couldn't help pulling one of the stray plants along the road - and sure enough.  Even this city boy can identify a carrot.

The road skirts these fields all the way around to the base of the far hills.  Our campground is approx. 2 miles beyond the right side of the picture.

Ahead of Schedule

September was supposed to be the month I install the roof.

Roof's done.  I'm now a month ahead of schedule.

I hired Ben's Roofing - a roofing contractor I use regularly and they did a great job.  I stopped feeling guilty on the first day they were up there.  I saw all of the things I certainly would have missed or thought of too late and was content to have taken my road less traveled.

They make it look so easy.

That was easy.

Soffits and soffit vent are going in.

Ella found a use for some of the wierd shapes dropped from the various fascia cuts.

My Sunday morning run was so beautiful - I had to take some pictures.  I got in 19 miles with 2500' of elevation gain between 5:30 and 8:30 - and then made it to church by 9:30.  But I could have run the hills all morning.  A coyote and I sized each other up as I climbed the single track.  As I got closer I realized there was a second one scouting around in a small canyon just beyond the first.  They were beautiful, large, and healthy.  These seemed a happy pair - not the scrawny sort often seen slinking across the trails.

More Roof Work - Plus a Sunday Morning Run

After a long afternoon on the roof, it's not unusual for the neighbors to look up and see me sitting on the plywood watching the stars come out.  It was during one of those tranquil moments that I finally figured out how to resolve the troublesome transition between the roof at the rear of the house, the laundry room roof, and the roof over the living room.  On Wednesday, Gary came over and helped me sort through a few roof issues, but by the end of our interview we still hadn't conceptualized a modification for this section.

Then, in the diminishing light I saw it as clearly as if it had already been built.  I stood up and climbed down off the roof.  

This was my biggest challenge of the week - How to get that transition right - because it has never been right.  The biggest problem with this configuration is - which direction to run the shingles?  If you look at the far left of the picture, you see what looks like a hip.  But if you follow that "hip" down the roof to the right, it blends back into the plane of the roof.  So which direction do you run the shingles?

Roughing in the framing

The new section looks like an airplane wing - and is now on the same "plane" as the rear roof.  Now there really will be a hip.

 

Compare this with the first picture above - I know, it's hard to see the difference - but this configuration can now be shingled conventionally.

It's getting to the point where there are about as many original sheets of plywood as new ones.  If you look closely you can see the small steel gussets I've conscripted into service as reinforcement between sheets - between rafters.  I installed blocks with screws between any new sheets.

Saturday's work...1x8 fascia boards.

Ella actually helped hold one end of some of those more ornery fascia boards.  

Fascias almost done.  Still missing that little triangle piece, but they are all drawn up and sitting on the table saw ready to be cut and installed some afternoon this week.

12 mile run this morning. Humid, but beautiful.

So this week should see the completion of the preparation of the roof.  All of the sheeting is now done, and I only have a couple of straight runs of fascia to install.  The small rear transition gable still needs a piece of plywood installed and I need to cut out the old step flashing, but when that's done - I should be done raining saw dust on the patio - hopefully for a very long time.