the how and the why

"They say that to train for and run 100 miles, you always need to know your "why." Without a "why," a reason, you won't finish. What they don't tell you is that some days the "why" doesn't matter. Some days, after you've worked a 50-hour week, after you've already gotten up every single day to run and to train—exhausted, tired, depleted, sore, and discouraged—all that matters is your "how."

~desiree marek
***********
like a poorly marked trail, my 2017 racing schedule could go a lot of different ways.

case in point: i'm signed up for the gorge waterfalls 100k, and in the dec. 3 lottery for the western states 100-mile run.

variables: 
1. i got through the gorge 100k lottery, so i'm in! except it turns out permits for the event aren't approved for the date it's supposed to happen. so i may be out.
2. getting into western states on the first try, with one lottery ticket, is like, uh, hitting the lottery. i mean, some people wait years, with multiple tickets, and still don't get in.

scenarios:
best case: gorge 100k happens on a convenient date, i get into western states, and running gorge springboards me on to an amazing WS100 finish!

worst case:* i don't get into western states, and i have to bow out of gorge because the eventual date conflicts with our long-booked family vacation. 

leaving my 2017 running calendar pretty much...empty.†
***********
options:
assuming the worst-case scenario, i have a post-it full of events that would make 2017 a fantastic year, running-wise (if not otherwise) ...‡

chuckanut 50k — 3/18
miwok 100k — 5/6
orcas island marathon — 5/13
sun mountain 50k — 5/20
western states training camp — 5/27-29
mccall trailrunning classic 40mile — 7/15
white river 50m — 8/5
squamish 50m — 8/19 (update: in.)
***********
why 100:

"Why are you doing this? Seems a bit extreme." ~ a well-intentioned friend

i got into the western states lottery because it's western states — and who knows if i'll get another chance at it. and because it is western states, if i were to beat the odds and get in, i would be all-in. i would find a way to get to the starting line with a fighting chance to finish.

the question is, can i say the same about any other 100?

i. don't. know.

standing here right this second, i'm not sure i can identify my "why," let alone a "how."

what i do know, though, is that the idea is intriguing enough to make me go, "what if?" and "why not?"

next step: let's go.

pine to palm — 9/9
mountain lakes — 9/23
javelina 100 — 10/28
***********
exegesis:

* in the big scheme of things, not really the "worst case"
† almost — i'm definitely signed up for the orcas island 25k on january 28
‡ obviously some of these are mutually exclusive

grieving miel

caution: what follows is not a happy story. 

***********
"if you find somebody to love in this world 
you better hang on tooth and nail 
the wolf is always at the door 
in a new york minute
everything can change"

~ don henley
***********
it went by so fast.

from the time i picked up my cat out of the middle of the street to the time i returned home from the emergency vet clinic, it was little more than an hour.

at 6:30 p.m. i saw headlamps on both sides of the street as i drove up, and thought "runners out for an evening run." i pulled into the driveway and noticed two of the lamps were from guys working on utilities.

on the other side of the street was a young woman, and she was yelling something to me. i started walking toward her and in the next few seconds, everything changed.

"can you help me i don't know what to do i hit a cat."

at that moment my thinking brain shut down to a very low level. 

it was one of our cats, down and writhing on the ground. i hesitated for what seemed like a long time, not sure what to do, not wanting to move her for fear of doing more damage. 

deciding for me, a car rolled up fast, as if it didn't see us, and i frantically waved it off. no choice now, i had to get her out of the middle of the street.

i picked her up and held her against my chest, moving quickly toward the house.

"i'm so sorry i didn't see her she ran right out in front of me."
"it's not your fault."

miel wanted to live, and fought me hard. kicking at the restraint, she dug her claws into my hands. i was afraid of hurting her more, of holding her too tightly, so i set her down in a flower bed. she continued to writhe, and i noticed the blood all over my jacket.

"i'm so sorry."
"it's not your fault."
i ran into the house and found a towel in the hall closet. outside again, i threw open the garage door and emptied a cardboard box that was full of something, i don't know what.

miel was where i left her, panting hard. i wrapped the towel around her as gently as i could and lifted her up to put her in the box. she let out a high, painful groan.

i put her in the back seat and headed toward the emergency clinic. i wasn't thinking clearly enough to remember how to get there, but knew generally which direction to head. i figured it would come back to me as i drove.

she panted loudly and it occurred to me she might be too hot with the towel over her, so i rolled down the window. she quieted down and immediately i was afraid she was slipping away, so i started talking to her.

"i'm here miel i'm right here i'm sorry i know you're hurting i'm going to take care of you..."

i didn't tell her everything was going to be okay.

"i'm here miel i'm sorry i know you're hurting i'm not going to leave you...please don't leave me."

she struggled in the box, and i was afraid she was going to throw herself out of it.

"i'm here miel i'm here be still please be still i know you're hurting."

it went on like this for what seemed like a long time.

eventually we pulled up to the vet clinic, and i threw open the back door of the car. the blood was everywhere.

i half-ran with her toward the clinic door, while miel struggled to get out of the box. she was still so strong, still so full of febrile energy. she wanted to live.

i reached the front door and set the box down on the ground, holding her in with one hand, fumbling with the doorknob with the other. it was locked.

i looked higher up the door and there was a buzzer.

a vet tech came and let us in. i stammered out our story, she asked some questions, i gave some one-word answers.

"okay, i'm going to take her back now."

i knew what was going to happen next. every next thing had already played itself out in my head, and there was only one thing left. i reached into the box and gently touched miel's fur.

"goodbye, beautiful."

the doors opened and closed, and i wandered into the bathroom to wash off some of the blood. 

"we need you to sign this here and here and here."

i signed, and sent hurried texts to my wife, who was boarding a plane for london. i barely held it together through a quick call from our daughter.
then i stood against a wall, waiting, sipping water from a dixie cup.

after a while, the vet came out.

"her heart is still beating but i'm not getting any neurological response the xrays showed some significant fractures to her skull at this point i think there's not much left we can do i think we have to euthanize her."

i nodded and sobbed a little.

"so you're okay if we go ahead...?"

i nodded and sobbed some more.

she went back through the doors.

our daughter texted, "please let me know what is going on"

"she's gone"
***********
i drove back home in a fog, accompanied by a low-grade dread something else bad might happen on the way home. it didn't.

our street was quiet and dark as i pulled into the driveway.

it was 7:35 p.m.
***********
the next morning, as usual, the alarm went off at 6:15.

as usual i got up, fed the dogs, and took them for a walk in the rain. we circled the block and inevitably passed the spot where miel was hit.

something was there, in the middle of the street. we waited for a couple cars to pass to go pick it up.

it was miel's collar.

i picked it up and carried it home.

nachtmusik

i haven't been sleeping well these past few nights. 

waking up at 3 or 4, unable to go back to sleep, with mozart ringing in my head.

i don't mind the mozart.

but i paid my sleep-deprived dues when both my children were babies.

#fucktrump
***********
update: the sleep hasn't improved, but the mozart soundtrack is, at least, diversifying.

added now are the overture from don giovani and the requiem mass. these pieces flow into each other seamlessly until i fall back to sleep or give up on sleep and roll out.

i love mozart, but i'd prefer to listen during normal waking hours.

one minute more

"courage is fear holding on a minute longer."

~ george s. patton

***********
a low, dark energy is afoot today, and the world is watching to see what decent people do next.

and while it's tempting to cringe and turn away in disgust, closer to home our children are watching as well.

our daughter, one of the most relentlessly positive people i know, is withdrawn and wary.

our son, a recent high school grad, is half-jokingly saying "the end is nigh."

we honestly don't know what to tell them this morning, because they're too smart to believe pollyanna platitudes.

so, i'm going to tell them this: the world is going to need a lot of brave people today. be one of them.

hold on a minute longer. and a minute more than that. and another. and another.

people we care about are watching.

all the (s)miles

"awesome!"

that's the first word i ever said to phil kochik, the day i ducked my head inside the running shop he was setting up in seattle.

seven hills hadn't even opened yet~~its walls and shelves were nearly bare~~but phil invited me in to look around anyway.

that was 2012, and i was a neophyte runner of roads. for me, unpaved trails were literally undiscovered country. i had no idea of the countless miles and adventures just around the corner.

this month seven hills celebrated its 4th anniversary. 

in the intervening years, one of the most inspiring aspects of the shop is the community that has grown up around it. 

seven hills has hosted some of the greatest runners in human history, along with a who's-who of FKT and OKT explorers. the shop has sponsored remarkable athletes from across the pacific northwest, and has been equally supportive of mid- to back-of-the-pack runners.

the people who have gravitated to "team seven hills" fit no particular demographic, save one: a willingness to throw themselves at adventure.

whether it's their first first trail run or their first 100-miler, volunteering at an aid station or crewing for friends, these folks radiate a warm joie de vivre you want to bask in every chance you get.

photo of madcap hilarity courtesy of glenn tachiyama.

i'm not sure where my running would have taken me if seven hills hadn't moved into our neighborhood (not far, i suspect). but to whatever degree i'm now more than a pedestrian weekend jogger, i owe it to this shop and the extraordinary people i've met because of it.

i am, as noted many times before, endlessly grateful.

this week phil announced he extended the shop's lease another two years.

awesome.

...and the pursuit of human decency

"there's no difference between trump and clinton."

~ a former colleague mansplaining politics to two intelligent women
***********
big mistake, dude.

evidently you've managed to convince yourself hillary clinton and donald trump are equivalent "because they both lie."


in doing so, you proudly flaunt your horrific failure of judgment.

you have a wife and daughter, right? 

so, let me ask you, would you feel safe leaving either of them alone in a room with trump? 

more importantly, do you think they would feel safe?

if you're honest, the answer to both questions is "no." 

cynically stating there's no difference between the confessed sex offender and the flawed candidate who has spent years fighting for women's rights (while fighting her own battles against misogyny), demeans the women in your life. 

worse, your failure to differentiate between them actually increases the chance the women you care about will be physically assaulted by men who share trump's view that women are just a collection of body parts to be rated and grabbed, whenever.

it comes to this: i wouldn't allow my daughter in your home.

think fast

i'm not fast.

but once in a while i feel fast, and that's almost the same thing.

saturday was one of those days.

in addition to a rare top-10 finish, i had an even rarer negative split in the second half of the race. 

which is to say i covered the first 6.1 miles in ~59 minutes, and the final 7.2 miles at a faster-pace ~1:03:30.

i'll take that any day.

paradise valley half marathon:

2:02:27

8/55 (overall)

1/3 (M 50-59)

shoes:

altra lone peak 3.0

song stuck in my head the entire time: "funknroll" ~ prince

***********

other uninteresting notes

weather.com said there was a 100% chance of precipitation before and during the race. they were half-right. it poured while we were standing around waiting for the start. but by race time, the rain was pretty much over. regardless, there was a lot of ponding on the trails. after daintily skipping around the first few puddles (as always), i went through the middle the rest of the way. once your feet are wet, they're wet® after all.

the "i don't fall down" lone peak 3.0.

runners were falling down all over the place. wet rocks/roots and non-grippy shoes are a tough combination. the LP 3.0s were having none of that. i never even slipped, let alone fell. if you're looking for a wet/winter shoe, these will treat you well for distances up to (and probably beyond) 50k.

they're also great for non-rainy and technical terrain. i mean, obviously.

oh! there was a bear warning at the trailhead. "bears recently sighted nearby," or words to that effect. if there were, in fact, bears nearby they at least had the good sense not to come out in the rain.

many thanks to the proprietors and volunteers at northwest trail runs. this was a fun track and a fine inaugural event at the paradise valley conservation area. always good to find new places to run!

earthy goodness

not my smoothie. my smoothie was neither art-directed 
nor sprinkled with paprika.

today's smoothie tastes good, but it smells a little earthy...

organic frozen mixed berries
organic frozen mango
organic banana
organic canned pumpkin
peach slices
peanut butter w flax & chia seeds
plain goat yogurt
coconut water

i'm pretty sure it's the pumpkin giving it the mushroomy, french bordeaux nose. or maybe the peanut butter. or the combination thereof. 

regardless, if this concoction doesn't get me past a 10:30 a.m. urge to eat canada, i don't know what will.

update

1125 hours: i'm not hungry yet. colleagues are breathing a collective sigh of relief.

blend grind liquify frappé

representative smoothie. your smoothie may vary.
see your own damn smoothie for details.

today's smoothie:

organic banana
organic+home-grown apple
organic mango
organic yogurt
organic açai purée
organic mint leaves
kombucha
pineapple juice

healthy+delicious.

personal note

for years my weekday breakfast routine consisted of coffee, fresh fruit, and a protein bar. this combination always got the job done, but recently began to feel, uh, deeply unsatisfying. i needed a change. 

this may take some fine-tuning, but if today's smoothie is any indication, i'm well on my way to living forever.

update

0930 hours: i am famished. why? my smoothie totaled up to almost 20 oz. if i ate/drank all its ingredients individually, i'm pretty sure i'd feel unbearably full. more research required. 

1030 hours: am prepared to eat my own arm, or a passing colleague. there must be a combination of ingredients that will compose a healthy and longer-lasting smoothie. this weekend's grocery run may be expensive.

1130 hours: "hangry" is an actual thing. must remember not to conference call when "hangry." even if some colleagues deserve to be beaten with their own dismembered arm(s). after which i will eat said arm(s).

1155 hours: i have a paralyzing headache...it's possible i may have waited too long to eat lunch. also, it's likely too late to steal the lunches in the break room refrigerator, as surely some colleagues will be gathering there. it may be best if i leave the office now.

1230 hours: just spent $31 at one of the local food trucks. the missus will not be pleased.

1240 hours: after eating just one of my lunches i am unbearably full. why?? (and not-for-nothing, what am i going to do with the rest of these lunches??)

1440 hours: still full. so as not to waste them, i will put my additional lunches up for grabs in the lunchroom.

1638 hours: famished. additional lunches are long-gone, swarmed by locusts disguised as colleagues. apparently they thought i was serious when i offered them my extra food. may have to revert to previous plan of eating one of them.
***********
epilogue

i may have passed out from hunger. because suddenly it's time to head for home and dinner, which i will make myself from all the things in the house. as far as i know, no colleagues were cannibalized.
***********
it took two years to drag our smoothie maker from the depths of the pantry into the light of day. loving wife asked why it took me so long to get around to using it. 

i don't know...apparently i just wasn't ready.

i'm ready now.

moving forward

representative kitchen. your kitchen may vary.
see your kitchen for details.

"we are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.” 
~ charles bukowski
***********
we're making some changes around here.

it starts in the master bathroom. instead of standing on subflooring and moving-blankets, we're now standing on heated ceramic tile. we figured nearly three years of the former was long enough. 

fine print: there's also a new shower, new (old-but-restored) clawfoot tub, and new double vanity. so we can see how tired we look in not one but two mirrors. 

new washer and dryer. this washer actually gets stuff clean.

moving on to the living room, we now have built-in cabinetry to store (hide) stuff. also, a big wine rack. i may have buried the lede in the previous sentences. because, wine.

in the kitchen, i recently began using the ninja smoothie maker i received as a christmas gift two years ago. turns out i like smoothies. and there are recipes.

after getting grossed out by the coffee maker purchased three years ago, i've moved on to a french press. it'll get cleaned every day, as opposed to once in three years. also, after some trial and error, the new thing makes good coffee.

other recent and/or proposed changes: 
the missus has a new job. now with more travel! yay? 

the girl begins her sophomore year of high school today. now with new start-times! instead of a manageable 7:45 a.m. drop-off, it's now 8:45. how this is remotely workable for working parents, i have no idea.

the boy is (allegedly) going to join the navy. we've seen no steps toward this goal thus far, but one thing is certain: he won't be living at home playing video games.

i stopped eating potato chips for a while.

that's about it for now. tune in next week for another episode of "omg, seriously? i want the last sixty seconds of my life back, jerk!"

peak outrage

“i don't know about other people, but when i wake up in the morning and put my shoes on, i think, jesus christ, now what?”
~charles bukowski
***********
just when you think you can't be more outraged by the very existence of the gop presidential nominee, you accidently glance at the day's headlines and realize you were wrong.

we've reached a point in our little experiment in democracy where the republican candidate for president can overtly threaten gun violence against his political opponent and somehow stay in the race.

we've reached a point where, instead of spurning their out-of-control candidate, elected gop officials insist he was joking.

note to apologists: this is not how decent people behave.

to review: 

during the gop national convention (if by "convention" you mean "dumpster fire stoked by angry, unintelligible mob"), delegates chanted "jail her," "kill her," and other christian-y, family values things.

one of the candidate's advisors (a new hampshire state representative) said the political opponent should be shot for treason.

the nominee and his campaign manager (if by "campaign manager" you mean soul-dead driver of the spiritual hearse) sought to delegitimize their opponent's certain victory in november by claiming the election is rigged.

and, most recently, the candidate said that a victory by his opponent would be so horrible, "second amendment people" might have to do something about her.

this, as thomas friedman writes, is how people get killed.

note to apologists II: you can't have it both ways.

establishment republicans can't say they love america and endorse this nominee.
conservative christians can't proclaim they love jesus but will vote for this heretic.
flag-wavers can't wrap themselves in the constitution and say this guy will defend it.

at this point, there are no more lines to cross.

"if she gets to pick, if she gets to pick her judges, nothing you can do, folks. although the second amendment people, maybe there is, i don't know."

~ the leader of today's gop 

bonk #WR50

the volcano abides.

"hey, how did your race go?!"
"not so great. i had to drop down to the marathon distance."
"um...there's no marathon distance at white river."
"now you tell me..."
***********
some days you're the wind shield. some days you're the guy who starts his race report with a metaphor.

today, i'm that guy.

the stomach trouble started very early (mile 15), and i decided it was because i downed a gel at about mile 13. i've sworn off gels, mostly, on the theory that they make me want to puke.

still, feeling a little depleted by the long first climb at white river, surely i could get away with one harmless huma.

ha! 

by the time i got to the corral pass aid station (mile 16.9) i was in full-on damage control mode. 
stomach: bad.
fuel levels: bad.
running form: bad.
overall status: bad.

i ate as much real food as i could handle at the AS, telling myself it would flip me upright over the next couple miles. that the bad was temporary and the good was still ahead. that soon i would be floating along in the zone whilst the miles flew by.

ha!

didn't happen.

the next 11 miles were an exercise in almost-but-not-quite puking, nearly tripping over all the rocks and roots, and a shameful failure to enjoy a perfect running day.

but the first 15 miles, man...the course was spectacular, temperatures were in the 60s, and i was cruising along easily with friends. life was good.

then?

question without an answer: why was i carrying gels at all?
answer: because i'm an idiot (how 'bout that, there was an answer after all).

by the time i got to the aid station at buck creek (mile 27.2), there was no question what would happen next. spotting some nice people around a clip board, i walked over and said, "i resign."

i must've looked pretty sour, because none of them tried to talk me out of it.

and just like that, i registered my first DNF.
***********
over the next several minutes i walked back to my car, cleaned myself up, and changed clothes.

not long after that my friend ian and i plopped ourselves down in chairs by the finish line and waited to cheer on our friends. 

eventually this bad day became a good day because lots of our friends were running and all of them finished.

in the big scheme of things, that's all that matters (well, that, and "NO MORE GELS EVER").

congrats, friends.
***********
white river 50 mile

DNF

shoes:

pearl-izumi trail n2, v3

song stuck in my head while i was still feeling good: 

"when i stop dreaming" ~ don henley

relax #WR50

sometimes you can turn a bad run into a good run by "relaxing into it."

in my case this entails slowing down, paying attention to my breathing, and not paying too much attention to whatever distance i set out to do.

i'm going to be doing a lot of relaxing at white river 50.

vive la vie

just one more morning

i had to wake up with the blues
pulled myself out of bed

put on my walking shoes
went up on the mountain

to see what i could see
the whole world was falling

right down in front of me

~ gregg allman
***********

My wife and I visited Nice, FR, in 2013. 

It is a city of great natural and cultural beauty, a place you could feel connected to and comfortable in no matter where you are from. In our time there the locals were welcoming and gracious; they helped us with our (very) limited grasp of their language, and spoke to us in ours when it was clear we were clueless. 

The city buzzed with the energy of the Ironman Triathlon coinciding with our stay; the Promenade des Anglais was full of sponsors and vendors and running gear and smiling people. Thousands of miles from Seattle, I felt completely at home. 

Today, in the anguished hours following another vile, insensate attack on the concept of civilization itself, I wonder how we humans have managed not to wipe ourselves out of existence. We've had plenty of chances over the millennia, and yet like cats with far more than nine lives, somehow we manage to hang on. How? 

I think it's because when things are at their intolerable worst, there are still people who remain civilized. They don't turn into snarling animals, they don't indulge their worst impulses, and they don't make a bad situation worse. They gather themselves and their loved ones and their dignity and their humanity, and they say, "Nope. Not gonna respond to barbarism by becoming a barbarian. Not gonna kowtow to the ignorant by burning libraries. Not gonna bow to the artless by setting fire to the Louvre. Nope. Not gonna happen. Not on my watch." 

We humans are a strange bunch. We are the only species that commits atrocities against our fellow creatures, and the only one to build universities and hospitals and museums. We run great distances, create works of miraculous beauty, send people into space, and occasionally cure cancer. 

We also kill each other in great numbers, without reason or regret. The disconnect is inexplicable. 

We live in dangerous times ~ but taking the long view, humans have endured much worse. Our ancestors would shake their heads in wonder at our first-world fear worship. A moment's reflection may be in order any time we see someone shouting at the rain and calling it a tsunami.

***********

Stay steady, friends. Breathe. Know that things may get worse before they get better. 

Our job, our tiny contribution to history, is to make sure they do get better.

#vivelafrance

taylor made #WR50

all shoes go in, some don't come out.

at a respectable day spa, an hour-long mud bath costs, like, $95 bucks.

at the taylor mountain 50k, six hours in the mud is free, along with a creek crossing (3x, free) nearly 5,000 feet of climbing (free), and PBR at the aid stations (free*).

i ran the half marathon here in 2013, and remember thinking the course was fairly easy. clearly there were things about it i forgot.

i mean, i remembered the creek, but forgot about the significant climbing immediately afterward. i remembered the mud, but forgot about THE MUD.

the 50k course consists of two trips around the half-marathon course, plus once around the 5-milers' loop. thanks to mother nature and the good folks at evergreen trail runs, each loop felt continually changing and challenging. 

the most remarkable thing about this day, though, was how unremarkable it was.

to be clear, taylor mtn. 50k is a good, fun test; under any circumstances a worthy end in-and-of itself. but i didn't run it for that.

this 50k and my other recent long event (the teanaway marathon) were really build-up; training runs for #WR50 . 

even after training for #gw100k, i still haven't wrapped my head around such distances being stepping stones to something much longer.

if i intend to contemplate the limits currently whispered by the wackos in the back of my brain, i should probably get with the program.

(* gift with purchase, with entry-fee. restrictions apply. see store for details.)

***********

taylor mountain 50k

6:05:37

34/55 (overall)

3/5 (M 50-59)

shoes:

merrell all out peak

song stuck in my head the entire time: none ~ program overridden by lengthy conversation with remarkable local ultrarunner mike mahanay.