Silverado Canyon Loop: Training for Chimera

Last Saturday morning I had the pleasure of meeting with a small group of runners signed up for the Chimera 100K and 100M race. The purpose of the meet-up was to do some night running on the terrain we'd be covering on the Chimera course once the sun goes down.

We met at 1AM in the canyon. To get directions to our exact starting point, use these coordinates in Google Maps: 33.74767,-117.5831. Also, here's a map of the loop from trailrunners.org, an extremely helpful website with all kinds of trails mapped out by my buddy LT... Lambert was the one who organized the run, and has done some serious running, in case you can't tell from his website.

There were 9 of us in total in our starting group, and we planned to meet another group at 6:30AM... we would do one 17 mile loop, then the rest of the group would join for a second 17 mile loop. It was a chance to get some good miles in 3 weeks before the race and meet some of the folks we'd be sharing the trails with.

Overall, it was a fantastic run. The climb starts right away on single track through brush, and gains close to 2000 ft of elevation in 2-3 miles. The trail winds and loops, keeping it interesting as you continue to ascend vertically. I was talking with a runner (Cris Francisco) who had done the same trail as part of the Chimera 100K the year prior, but in their case, they had to cover that section in the heat of the day. As Cris pointed out the points at which he had stopped to throw up, I felt glad we'd be covering it in the dark during the actual race.

After the first 2-3 miles we leveled out, then for the next 4 miles followed a fire road over rolling hills. We steadily climbed another 1000 ft vertically, reaching the highest point of the loop at 4800 ft, 10 miles in. From there, it was a 7 mile descent down a winding fire road that became an asphalt road once it hit the bottom of the canyon.

Following the road along the bottom of the canyon, we arrived back at our cars about 4 hours and 10 minutes after we left them, having covered 17 miles and 3900 ft of climbing in the dark.

Checking with the rest of the group, Cris and I decided to continue on with the second loop rather than wait an hour for the 6:30AM start group to arrive... I was feeling cold and slightly weary, and was (rather selfishly) thinking how hard it would be to restart after stopping for an hour. Along with Mike Epler, we decided to push on while the others rested and waited. After restocking our water and fuel, we headed out on loop two.

The second time around was tougher but more gorgeous. This time, our climb out of the canyon beat us up further, but upon reaching the top we were rewarded with deep reds and purples in the sky to the east as the sun came up.

Overall, it was great to run that section of the course, I feel like I am finally getting a good idea of what we will encounter out there. There are still big chunks of the course I have never seen, but that's part of the fun on the day! By night, however, I should be on familiar ground, and that will be nice.

So excited for the race, and looking forward to making new friends! It will be a blast out there.

Dogs: They're on to me

Not all dogs can be as happy as this li'l guy

No really, I mean they are ON to me... literally. Well, at least one dog in our neighborhood is.

How else would you explain the following?

Just a few days after my last post about fences that keep in yappy dogs, I had an encounter with one, except this guy didn't just yap. He growled, ran, and then bit.

His breed was of the Spuds Mckenzie fame; a bull terrier. He ran out of his owner's yard as I passed on the sidewalk in front of his house. The children who lived there were sitting out front having a yard sale, and I smiled at them as I ran by.

Then, I heard them start to yell: "No, Cody, NO!" followed by the unmistakable sound of a dog's growls, and nails on pavement...

Goddammit.

I jumped forward, hesitated, then shot forward again - my hesitation came from the brief wondering if the dog was only chasing me because I was running (I have known dogs such as these), but I quickly decided that running was the better option.

As I ran, he jumped and bit me on the leg. I say "bit", but really, it was more of a nip - literally less than a 1-inch puncture, and enough force to generate some nice bruises that would flower the next day. It was very, very minor.

It was enough to shake me, however - as I jogged a few more feet after the children had called the dog off, the Chihuahua at the next house saw me coming and ran to the fence, yapping... and well, I nearly jumped out of my skin (in fact, for the remained of the run I was very jumpy at the sound of any bark).

After that, I wasn't sure what to do. Really, I wanted to just go home, and was worried if I went back to the house that the dog would run at me again. After thinking a second further however, I knew I had to go back and at least talk with the dog's owners - they needed to know what had happened, and I needed to hear from them what they would do to make sure it would not happen again.

So, that's what I did - some people may think that was not enough, but I just was not comfortable reporting the dog to Animal Services based on the minor level of the encounter - it just hadn't been that serious, and while the dog had apparently been excited enough to take a snap at me, it withdrew pretty quickly and had seemed entirely spurned on by my running... once I stopped, he was no longer interested. All in all, I did not think he presented enough of a threat to report.

The incident has, however, made me consider what to do if actually attacked by a dog - it's one of those situations where you think you know what to do, but really don't.

So, here's the scoop - what to do if you have a run-in with an aggressive dog (the article was published on Good Morning America, and has similar recommendations as those of dog trainers who have also published advice online).

What To Do If You Encounter a Seemingly Aggressive Dog:

1. Stand still. If you keep approaching, the dog will interpret this as an attack
2. Don't make eye contact. This is a challenge to the dog
3. Don't smile. The dog thinks you are "baring your teeth" at him. This is an invitation to fight.
4. Wait for the dog's owner to come and restrain the dog
5. Respect the dog's wishes! If the dog is barking and growling, he is expressing his definite displeasure with your actions. Don't push the envelope. Most dogs make good on their warnings!

What To Do If You Are Attacked by a Dog:

1. Don't move! You cannot outrun a dog, no matter how fast you are. Running only provokes an angry dog.
2. Look away. Staring an aggressive dog in the eyes is a challenge.
3. Use a soft, soothing tone of voice. Loud, angry-sounding words and screaming only spur on the dog.
4. Keep your arms to your side, with your fingers curled in so the dog can't bite them.
5. If he bites you, DO NOT PULL AWAY. This only spurs the dog on. Remain calm. Try to ram a stick, broom handle, etc down the dog's throat to make him gag and let you go. Don't hit the dog. Again, that just makes the situation worse.
6. If you are on the ground, curl into a fetal position. Cover your head and neck. Lay perfectly still. Usually a still target is boring to the dog and they will retreat.

I hope this advice is helpful, but I'll admit the advice regarding "What to Do if You Are Attacked By a Dog" seems very hard to follow. Our natural instinct is to run, to fight back, and to yell; but this article (and other dog training articles online) tell us that those behaviors are not the best response.

Interesting stuff. I'll try my best to avoid any attacks in the future by slowing down if I hear a dog getting too aggressive, or not contained - usually I just run right by and hope for the best (as evidenced by my "Ode to the Fence" where I just HOPE that the fence will hold).

Now, I understand that hoping for the best isn't good enough - I've got to use my eyes and ears to make sure I don't get in the way of an aggressive dog. And yeah, it sucks that we have to worry about this, but it's better than getting "nipped" in the back of the leg... or worse!

Running through lunch

Today I decided to start taking advantage of my new LA Fitness gym membership and squeeze in a few extra miles on my lunch break, with very positive results.

When I've tried to do this with other gyms it's been too rushed and a little stressful, but this gym is close enough that I can get there within ten minutes, and changed within three.

Today I ran for 45 minutes on the treadmill, getting 5 miles in. All told, I was back at work inside of 80 minutes, and considering this included me getting hopelessly lost as I tried to make my way back though the hall of mirrors and corridors they call a cardio-wing in search of the women's locker rooms, I think that was pretty slick. Next time, I can probably shave that down to a 75-minute-or-less round trip.

Not only was it a great way to get a few extra miles in, but it invigorated my spirit, and I went into my 1PM meeting fresh and energized.

Easy, light, and smooth

This morning as I ran around the neighborhood I felt myself pushing to keep up the pace. I'm not the fastest runner out there, so as I strive to improve my strategy has been to take my usual workouts, then build on them so they are longer and faster.

Pushing to go faster this morning did not come easily, as it can on some days. As my mind registered this, I thought of an article read just yesterday via Chris McDougall's blog - it was a short piece he wrote for Outside magazine entitled Christopher McDougall's Top 4 Running Tips.

McDougall provides 4 good tips (listed in reverse order from 4-1) but it was the last that stayed with me, as it did when I read it for the first time in his book.

Embracing the suck

A recent entry by Geoff Roes on his blog "Fumbling Towards Endurance" touches on challenges in training and mental hurdles, something I've been considering a lot lately. 

Here's an excerpt from Geoff's Feb. 12th, 2011 blog entry (a bit long, but it takes you through Geoff's thought process in recent training):

"This has been my routine for the past week: Hang around the house all morning waiting for the wind to die down. Finally head out for my run around 2:00 when the wind has invariably picked up even higher. Get really frustrated as soon as I hit the trail because all of the "work" I did to break a trail the day before has been trumped by the wind. Finally come to peace with the conditions and accept that I will be breaking through knee deep drifts for the entire run. And then after about 30 minutes I begin to even relish the difficulty that the wind has created. I start to really enjoy the effort it takes to push each step through 12+ inches of snow with a 22" platform attached to my foot. I start to notice that every step feels like I'm going up a steep hill. The more I tune into this the more I enjoy it."

I love this entry from Geoff for a few reasons, but mostly because it's so easy to relate to.

The Self-Coaching Challenge

Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about the challenges one faces when one is self-coached.

I'm self-coached (so, I don’t have a coach or local running group that I check in and train with), and I'd assume that most of us are. I actively seek input and advice on running and training via the Internet and Ultralist, and occasionally meet with a friend to run – but more often than not, it's just me, which is usually just fine - in fact, I prefer it to any other scenario.

Being self-coached is nice because it gives you flexibility – after all, you don’t have anyone else’s schedule to work around, and can decide how often, where, and for how long you run. Obviously, this is incredibly convenient when you already have a full schedule... and you can't beat the $0 price tag.

However... there are also times when being self-coached is not as great.

When Your Body Demands a Break

When you don't let your body take a break every now and again, it will demand a break from you. The body can do this via injury, like a pulled or strained muscle, or it can do it via fatigue.

Fatigue was the case during my run this morning. I had planned to do close to 25 miles but ended up doing about 20, with significant walking breaks.

The sun rising over Los Angles two hours into my run

When starting my run that morning, I found I lacked my normal sense of quiet focus. My mind kept wandering (not in a good way), and I was consistently challenged to keep up my pace. Often, I didn't even try to keep pace, and found myself walking more frequently and on sections that were not even challenging. After about 2 hours, I felt like throwing in the towel and going off to get a cup of coffee somewhere.

But, I stuck with it - to some degree, anyway. By slowing my pace and taking more walking breaks I lowered my overall mileage and intensity, but I hung in there for the full allotted time. Additionally, I decided that if I couldn't run the whole course at a good pace, I'd focus on certain sections of the trail to run hard (ok fine, medium-hard), with slower running in between.

And while all that was going on, I was considering why I was feeling so crappy.

Looking back over the last few weeks, it's not all that surprising. Recently I've been making a special effort to train more consistently, which essentially means the following:

 - running hills with nearly every workout

 - running at a faster pace through every workout

 - more frequent workouts during the week

In addition to that, I had pumped up my mileage in the last week and it was over 5 weeks since the last time I had taken a break from my weekend long run.

To sum it all up, I was pooped.

I contemplated this during my run-walk-run-walk-amble-run. I had already decided to take it easier than I intended - it was just too hard to do otherwise - but I was feeling guilty about it. I wasn't sure that "taking it easy" was justified. I wasn't sure if I should be pushing through the resistance or listening to my body.

Winners don't "take it easy" - do they?

 

Road up to Griffith Park Observatory

Sure, it's not always easy, I told myself sternly, but it won't be easy during the 2nd half of that 50 or 100 miler either. You'll feel a LOT like walking then. Are you just going to give up then, too? Ease up on the pace? Walk the whole thing? Decide to go home mid-way?

But... I'm tired, a small voice in my head said. My stern inner voice was silent at this, but I swear I could hear it rolling it's eyes.

As already noted, I ended up listening to my body - or in other words, I took the easy way out. Still feel like a wuss about that one. Still kinda don't care though, in light of all the other training I've been doing. Still feeling a little tired.

All this debate and self-berating can be avoided, however, with one simple solution: by scheduling breaks into training in the form of "recovery weeks". I don't typically do this very well (or at all), but recovery weeks are an essential part of training, as told by coaches and runners with far more experience than me.

By giving myself "easy" weeks every 4-5 weeks and allowing my body and mind some time to recover, I can better avoid injury and burnout while also avoiding the feeling of "slacking  off" during training when my body just shuts down.

More of the trails at Griffith Park

I'll try this from now on... and continue to make note of how my mind and body is feeling with each workout. I'd like to keep on pushing in training but I want to be sure I'm not pushing too hard... when your only coach is yourself, it can be so hard to know how well you are walking that line.

More miles

Was somewhat struck by the idea tonight that if I want to get better, I need to add in more miles. This is a somewhat shocking theory, I understand. More on this later. It's a pretty radical concept so will need some thorough eking-out before being tested.

No really, I think I need to add more miles.

Running as Play?

This morning as I ran round my neighborhood on something of my normal route, it occurred to me that my legs felt tired. This was not a surprise - I had run 13 miles over steep terrain the day prior, and 8 miles per morning for the two days before that. Such miles are paltry for some, but not for me, and my legs were looking for a little break.

Still, I had decided to add the Sunday morning run in to get a few more miles, so when my mind registered the fatigue, it was noted, then dismissed as any other passing thought.

I live in a residential neighborhood with lots of narrow, winding streets and some steep climbs and descents - nothing tricky, but still interesting enough that you can map out various routes and add in (or leave out) extra climbs as desired without having to wander too far from home. This morning I was planning on running a hilly 4-mile loop twice.

After completing one loop and turning right to head up for the 2nd, my mind was struck by a thought, and I smiled. My legs were tired, but as I chugged up the hill I thought "I wonder if I can negative split the 2nd loop..." I smiled again to myself, pushed up and over the first hill, then began to speed down the back of it and from there, into the straightaway of another residential street.

I felt great (or course, downhills will do that for you), but more than that, I felt lighthearted. For as many runs as I've been on in my lifetime, I am frequently struck by how running brings out the kid in me. More often than not on morning runs I will find myself charging down a dark street an the middle of the road, feeling like a kid on my first bike looking around at the landscape whizzing by as the voice in my mind yells "Wheeeeeeeeeee!" I love the sense of fun, the feeling of play, of begin young at heart, and free, and alive. In those moments I feel lucky and in love with my life.

It was that feeling this morning that took my mind back to an article from earlier in the week regarding the value of this very thing - an example of what the author called "adult play". Sounds risqué, but what "adult play" refers to are activities where adults allow themselves to play, or to do something for the experience and joy of it rather than for "work" or a qualitative result.

"Stop right there," I hear you say. "You can't tell me running has nothing to do with a qualitative result. If that were the case, why all this talk of times, training, and getting faster?"

Ok - you've got a point there. But running can be both, can't it? There's joy to be found in traveling over trails and roads and up and down hills, and in the feeling of sweating and sprinting as the world flies by and thoughts move freely through the mind... but that said, many of us also find it fun to get a good result.

It's fun to get faster, more fit; to accomplish what we could not have just months before. In that sense, it's work, and certainly results-focused, but it is still intertwined with fun in a way that integral to it's longevity. If it did not have fun at it's heart, and at times, bursting from the seams... the training would not be worth it. At least, not for long.

The fun is the thing.

But enough about that, and back to the article. This article (by Joe Robinson) is called The Key To Happiness: A Taboo for Adults? and explores the notion that adults focus too much on activities that are deemed productive and rational, while activities of leisure or "personal expressiveness" that do not work towards an external result are seen as "taboo".

While the article does tend to make this trend (if you can call it a trend or even believe it exists at all) sound more black and white than it may actually be, it makes some statements that I found hard to argue.

For example, it is Robinson's belief that play activities are most important in helping us have more meaningful and rewarding lives. Here is one section in particular that jumped out:

Studies show that play reflects more of who you are than your work. When you're engaged in activities of "personal expressiveness," ones that are self-chosen and that reflect intrinsic goals, you're operating from the "true self," says Alan Waterman of the College of New Jersey.

In another part Robinson describes people he met while researching his book, which centers around folks who participate in these personally enriching activities.

Everyone I met had dramatically upgraded self-esteem and a sense of self anchored by something that's supposed to be worthless.

Another recent piece of media that touches on this idea is a Christopher McDougall speech at TEDxPennQuarter. In this clip Chris opens with a story from the NYC Marathon then goes on the cover themes from his book "Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Super Athletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen." 

Towards the end Chris talks the audience about the importance of getting back to the basics of running as it was in older times.

"We've got to... stop focusing on urban marathons, where you know, if you do 4:00:00 you suck, but if you got 3:59:99, you're awesome, because you qualified for another race, and we've got to get back to that sense of playfulness and joyfulness, and I would say, nakedness, that has made the Tarahumara one of the most healthy an serene cultures of our time" Chris says.

The material was familiar, yet I nodded as I watched, for it still resonated. Running serves many purposes - as a fitness tool, a de-stressor, a means of getting from A to B, as a challenge, and as a job (for some arguably lucky folks). But as play?

Abso-freakin-lutely.

It's with a feeling of play that we will sometimes pick a point or a hill on the not-too-distant horizon and say "I wonder if I can run to that point." It's with a feeling of play that we will glance out the window, throw on the shoes, and take off down the road with no real idea of where we're going except that we are moving forward on our feet. It's with a feeling of play that we will sometimes look at our fellow runner or pacer and say "Race you to the top of the hill!" And it was with that same feeling of play that I had smiled mischievously and dared myself to negative split the loop, knowing there was no training goal scheduled in that workout other than to cover the miles. It was for the fun of it, that's all... the challenge... and the fun.

We are accused of acting like kids when we do or say things such things... or at least, I have. In retrospect, seems like that's not such a bad thing.

I enjoy acting like a kid, and don't get to do it that much, but maybe need to work on doing it more. For now, I'm glad to be able to do so in those precious minutes of running through the dark streets, leaping over curbs and charging up and down hills in what can feel like an inane effort to beat a goal that was set just a few minutes prior.

I did negative split the loop. Then, like a kid, I gave little "Whoo-hoo!" cheer, then giggled to myself in the street.

Progress

The following dialog came to me as I was running over the trails in local Griffith Park in Los Feliz. While closer to the city than I typically like, I have a soft spot for these trails as they were the first I experienced in my ultra-career, and gave me a taste of how trail running differed from road running.

I enjoying going back there now not only for the hills and the views, but also as it's fun to see how far I've come.... which is never more apparent than when I tackle a particular hill or piece of landscape that I used to have to walk up, chest heaving for air all the way...


Whose Legs Are These?
Whose legs are these?

They can't be my legs.

Strong, sure, moving forward with certainty and confidence... climbing one set of hills, then looking for more.
Hey - whose legs are these? Anyone? Anyone recognize these legs? They look familiar... yet, there's a freshness there that suggests they are brand new. And that subtle bounce, in each step, a bounce - that's something I've not seen before, no, not with these legs.

But, when did this happen? How did they get here, these legs that feel like they could go for miles?

They could use a tan, that's for sure - and a shave too, please, while we're at it. But, below the surface, there lies a strength that cannot be argued.

Look here, at this calf - it's hard as a rock. And there, on the left, another one just like it.
And these feet - well, the feet have seen better days. Only seven toenails between them, and with heels that have clearly not seen a pumice stone in years... yes, the feet, I recognize. But these legs - there's something that feels distinctly different about these legs.
Tell me, please: whose are these legs?
Well, they are my legs - and they have carried me over many mountains.

They have carried me in the early morning, in the dead of night, and in the light of day.
Over asphalt and rocky trails, through snow, and sand, and mud.
Over fallen trees, along dried-up creek beds, and around neighbors' garbage cans.
In front of the yapping, frothing mouths of fenced-in dogs - and dogs that were not fenced-in.
Up sheer cliff faces and over mossy logs bridging running streams, then into the steams themselves.

I'll take responsibility for these legs.

I have pushed and pummeled them, I have coaxed them and cursed at them. I have dragged them out of bed (and vice-versa) at 3AM on a Saturday morning, when in younger days we would have only just been staggering home... together, we have climbed peaks I would have never dreamed I'd climb, much less run.

I have pushed these legs to go farther and faster than ever before, and they have responded
These are my legs, and I'll take them now
It's only 8AM here, and there is still much time
to run.