Bard Creek/Watrous Gulch

Finally something new to post. On a grey Memorial Day, I took Iris and Murdoch to Watrous Gulch (trailhead at Exit 218 off I-70). There was rain, fog, and graupel on the way, but it was really clearer in the mountains than in Denver. The deep hole golf put in my right ankle has not yet healed completely, but a few days with no water on it helped. The run up Watrous Gulch to the Bard Creek trail is posted as 1 1/4 miles and I'm going to make a guess that it rises 937.5 feet--not to put too fine a point upon it--for an incline of about 14.25% (Pike's Peak is around 11%). Up in 24 minutes, down in 19. There was quite a bit of thunder as we approached the bottom, and quite a bit of both rain and graupel as we began the drive down.

Golf is Not Good Cross Training

I'm still paying the price for eighteen holes of golf over two days last week. It's a bit like running shoes: you may pay the price if you "overdo" it early on. I think I only had nine previous holes (last year) on my Tiger Woods-endorsed Nike shoes. So I have an impressive raw blister on the inside above my right heel. It caused no problems yesterday as I coasted down the hill (wearing flip-flops) on my bike to the downtown library, and then stood up on the pedals up the hill on the way back. And today I wore sandals and took Iris and Murdoch down to the river for a soak in temperatures just slightly lower than the last couple of days. Miranda graduated (salutatorian) from high school last night.

High Altitude Swimming

It hasn't been that long that the Lake County recreation center pool has been open again. Before it closed, I remember sitting with Angel Martino and her sister in the jacuzzi when Angel was training (unsuccessfully) for her fourth (or something) Olympic team the winter of 1999-2000. (Awesome--the truly gifted athlete is not like you or me.) I mentioned earlier the difficulty alternate side breathing is giving me. Not only is breathing to my right side awkward and unnatural to me, it seems to take forever before I get a chance to breathe again. I am trying to turn over faster, which seems to help some. I can't say the problem is massively worse at 10,000', but obviously it's no better. No Angel to be found, but I was sort of looking for the handsome young woman I saw here last time, who swims endlessly, fast, flip turns, IM, and breathes every fifth stroke.

Mt. Zion Revisited

Starting an uphill run at high altitude is like tearing phone books: the hardest part is getting started. Took the whole pack--Iris, Murdoch, Sugar, and Happy--on another tour of Mt. Zion. Today was warmer and more full sun; I definitely felt it on the way up. I believe from the turnaround point you can see the Mt. Massive Golf Course, where this morning I did my golfer impression. Out in 19 minutes, back in 13.

Mt. Zion: Leadville

Every year I forget how long it takes snow to melt, and there is more snow this year than there has been for awhile. The Turquoise Lake road is open (some small rocks on the road on the west side) but there are mounds of snow on the sides and the parking area for the Timberline Lake trailhead is inaccessible. So Iris and Murdoch endured a circumnavigation of the lake and we ended up at the Mt. Zion trailhead. The trail was somewhat muddy in places, and is closed to motorized traffic this time of year. It's plenty steep in places. We ran/walked up to the place where on New Year's 1999 Miranda and I snowshoed, set off some fireworks, and watched the lack of both action and Y2k havoc in Leadville below. Up in 18 minutes, down in 13.

Minimalism at 10,000 Feet

Forest run in Leadville at 10,000'. It's an increasing challenge to run around (rather than through) fences. There's a 60 acre tract that is fenced, at great expense, fencing nothing in and nothing out (think Robert Frost). Took the next door dogs, Sugar and Happy. Now there's a pack. Actually felt rather fatigued setting out on the miniscule upward incline. The fatigue went away in the environment of soft, dry lodgepole pine needles underfoot. Turn-around at the cemetery. More than once Happy cut behind me and almost cut my feet out from under me. Trying to take itty bitty fast light steps. 30 minutes.

The "Long" Run

Like the short run, this one goes down the hill to the Platte, but there it turns north, past the flagship REI store, and continues, traditionally, clockwise, first past Elitch's on the east side, turning around by Mile High Stadium and then south past the Children's Museum on the west. I have always thought of it as a paradoxically rural setting, populated by runners, bikers, dog walkers, bums, ducks, and geese. Iris and Murdoch actually scared me on a cold, sleety day in the fall. Even Iris, who doesn't swim as enthusiastically and energetically as Murdoch became obsessed with a beaver. The dogs were no threat to the beaver, but their single-minded pursuit of it--as they ignored my screaming at them--made me worried they'd become hypothermic and drown. (They didn't. But I have never seen the normally stylish Iris look smaller, wetter, or dirtier.) Anyway, after Murdoch's recent encounter with the Doggie Police, no place looks as friendly and innocent as it did. I nervously let them swim for a minute or two anyway. 41 minutes.

This Just In: I Run Alone

It turns out that the date of the Ascent coincides with the time when my daughter is expected to be at college and make nice with the other newbies, take placement tests, and meet with her advisor. Oh well, as other fathers know, that is what fathers do: they take one for the team.

New Running Chic

New Running Chic

You heard it here first: Reality Man declares that filmy synthetic shorts, with their lack of pockets and unavoidable funk when sweaty, are so over. The New Running Chic for the new century will be all cotton shorts, preferably from Target and preferably well-used. Extra tip--one word: boxers.

More Minimalism

Check out the suggestion for such joint-friendly cross-trainining as pool running.

Oklahoma Runner -- Feature Article

Mother's Day

Trying to make the same things as last year, with the knowledge gained last year from (another) former girlfriend: really force the water out of the spinach.

Results got good marks: still a little soupy and formless, however.
50 Friends Club Cookbook -- Eggs and Cheese -- Spinach Souffle

Short holiday walk in flip-flops with Iris and Murdoch.

Other Minimalists

It turns out that others have interested themselves in "minimalist training." I will pass them along as I find them.
Marathon Training, Running & Racing: Long Distance Running & Training and Racing Schedules for

The Short Route

Ran what shall come to be known as "The Short Route" with Iris and Murdoch this morning. It can start off in one of two main ways: down the hill to 29th and across the 15th St. bridge, or down 32nd to the 20th St. bridge. Then, it's either north or south, respectively on the Platte bike path, and up whichever way we did not come down. The distance is laughably small, except for the minimalist runner. Ever mindful of the Doggie Police, especially on a Saturday, albeit a somewhat bleak and overcast one, I allowed Murdoch to float tethered for a few moments at one of the artificial rock outcroppings. Iris disdained the opportunity. Miranda looked at this blog, pronounced it "cute," and asked me if I expected anyone other than those I told about it ever to view it. The forthrightness of the young.

The--benign--grade up from the Platte. 

Sight of Murdoch's arrest 5/5/05 

Iris and Murdoch at Herman Lake 

Cross Training

The best part of any day--beyond turning on the computer and having the first cup of coffee--is an excursion with Iris and Murdoch. Today, after yesterday's debacle with the Doggie Police, was away (as I took it) from their purview. This meant in the direction--north--on the Platte away from gentrification and toward dereliction. We headed across the 20th St. bridge and down into Cuernavaca Park, across the bridge over the Platte, and on toward--whatever. This section is distinctly non-upscale--RTD--the bus people--and FedEx have locations here. We ran by Hispanic vagrants--they have the idea that dogs respond to "tsk" sounds being made at them--and turned around at the--former, unfortunately--site of "Bob's Big Ass Burgers." Despite yesterday's rather expensive encounter with the Doggie Police, Iris and Murdoch got a short swim and we all took, as is my intention, what I have read described as "recuperative walking breaks." Out in 19 min., back in 23. As I said: minimalist.

A little later, I swam at the Ashland Recreation Center. My workout is minimal and tries to adhere to the dictates of totalimmersion.net: sleek, long, fish-like, mindful, relying on feeling, rather than muscling the water. I swim 200m with my fists closed--there are Fistgloves offered on the site for $9.95, but I find that closing my fists seems to work fine and does not cause my arm to tense. The idea here is to allow the body to discover that it is not an open hand pulling the body through the water but rather a sleek body slipping by a hand holding its place in the water that is the goal. But I'm just a novice; see the words and videos available through the site for the words of the masters. I have also managed to get over the self-consciousness of doing what seemed like dorky drills. What I do has to do with rolling from side to side and then staying in the "sweet spot." This is essentially swimming on one's side with the upper arm resting relaxed on your hip. Sideways swimming makes you swim more like a fish and less like a barge. And the drills seem to help me be more comfortable breathing to my right. For nearly all my life I have been a left side only breather: unbalanced. Alternating breathing sides makes you more balanced, but also means you are taking fewer breaths. About this, more later.

Where to Begin?

Perhaps the saga should begin yesterday, when I took the rowdy brother-sister chow mix pair Iris and Murdoch on a minimalist run. I live in Highland (high land, get it?) so the first part of the run is downhill toward the Platte River, which has been running high lately, but where, normally, at least Murdoch, the beefier, hydrophilic male, swims. It was fast and high yesterday, but--unfortunately--I unleashed them for a swim. Out of nowhere, at a disarmingly leisurely, insouciant pace pedaled the Doggie Police. I issued the usual plea for clemency and got the usual response: one ticket instead of two. (It's Murdoch who will, this time, have the arrest on his record.) The whole episode had a collegial, perfunctory aspect to it--pure business, no lecture--and it seemed that the DP was relieved to encounter someone who actually produced an ID and was not rude, defensive, or abusive.

I take these things better than I used to. It's no one's fault, really, and am I going to submit to fear of committing a victimless crime? For the record, the only part of the run worthy of the name is the return ascent, which might gain a couple of hundred feet over 3/4 of a mile.

Prologue

It began the end of last summer when my daughter and I met a couple of guys at the top of Mt. Antero who said they did the Pikes Peak Ascent half marathon a few weeks earlier. One of them got my attention when he said "And you can power walk it and still get a good time." Hmmm. So I proposed to Miranda that we make the Ascent our 14er for this summer. She's no runner, and I haven't done much running for years, but she assented.

I'm 56, never had a major injury (just the broken clavicle and ribs when I tried to combine mountain biking with holding a fly rod), and, according to a (former) girl friend "not an ounce of fat on me." That may not be true, but I'm pretty thin. In my distant thirties, I did one marathon, one triathlon at half the Ironman distance, and a few half marathons. I was never unprepared or embarrassed, but never trained as hard as the pundits said one should. I think a 1:35 half marathon at altitude was probably my best result. Miranda's going to go to Grinnell, to which we took a high speed road trip a few weeks back. She suggested we do a 5k to benefit Heifer International. I had not done a race in years--and actually never a race as short as 5k--but I did a 26:05, and in the friendly, funky atmosphere of this race, would have won my age group if I'd run 46 seconds faster (unrealistic). Currently, I'm swimming one to five times a week, doing very short (400-500m) workouts, trying to apply the Zen wisdom of totalimmersion.net.

The Pikes Peak Ascent half marathon is a monster: you ascend 7,815' in 13.32 miles, starting at 6,295'. The organizers suggest you train for it as you would for a tough flatland marathon, and that you plan to take a half hour longer than you would for a marathon. You have 6 1/2 hours to finish the race, or you're not an official finisher (there are intermediate cut-offs, too) and you don't get your finisher fleece jacket. It's a tough ticket, too. I had it on my calendar to sign up the beginning of March, and the race filled in just a few days!

But we're in, and I'd once again like to be prepared and unembarrassed. But I don't see monomaniacal preparation in my future. This blog will let you know how, and what, I'm doing, and how I eventually do on August 20.