The Carkeek 12 Hour Race is a Seattle gem held every Halloween season, and it's The Hardest 12 Hour Out There. Period. If you haven't run it (or even if you have!), mark your calendars and be sure to join the fun. Here's a taste of the 2010 race;
Friday, March 25, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Running Blind : Chuckanut Strikes Again
Last year I had a rough day at Chuckanut 50k, one of my favorite races around. We had just had twins and I hadn't really been training at all.... this year was even rougher. Apparently shingles stays with you for a while. They said 4-6 weeks of recovery, and I guess the docs are pretty wise. My body was just depleted from the start. Add to that the fact that I had to run in glasses (normally I wear contacts, as I'm very blind), as I still have a shingles-related eye infection that's on the mend. Running in glasses is amazingly tough! Wow, I really don't know how folks do it. Dealing with lenses constantly fogging up in the woods, no peripheral vision, etc.- I felt like I was stopped more than I was running. Anyway, it was probably a bit ambitious to even toe the starting line, but I'm happy I gave it a go despite the end result.
I'm not one for detailed race reports, but here's a semi-quickie. I started very unlike myself a bit back in the pack to force myself to start slowly and conservatively. This worked fine and I got more than a handful of comments from friends that wondered why I wasn't sprinting out at the front of the pack (something I really really love to do). The first 6 on the flat Interurban trail went alright, then it's onto singletrack for a bit. This is when my glasses began to fog up and my pace became that of a snail's. I then felt fantastic running strong up the 3 miles of Cleator Road and made up a lot of ground climbing fast with easy footing and clear vision. The ridge trail ruined me. Without peripheral vision and with foggy vision, picking through the footing and twists and turns was a true challenge. Despite eating and drinking regularly, my body also began reminding me of its general depletion going into the race. I considered bailing at the 2nd to last aid station (bottom of Chinscraper), but told myself I had to give myself until the next aid station to attempt to feel better. After shuffling those 4.5 or so miles, I felt far worse and was officially done at mile 25 or so. I've never dropped at Chuckanut and actually never dropped at a 50k, but on Saturday it was the right call. Sometimes our bodies are healthy; sometimes they're not. This makes me abundantly thankful for all the healthy times.
Big thanks to Krissy and Ellen for putting on another fantastic race this year! It was amazing to see/hear about the incredibly fast competition (both men's and women's) at the front of the pack, and I know this race will just be better every year. The weather was idyllic, and despite my less than perfect run, I was still really happy to be out on the trails with so many friends. Now, time to lick my wounds and get back on the horse.
I'm not one for detailed race reports, but here's a semi-quickie. I started very unlike myself a bit back in the pack to force myself to start slowly and conservatively. This worked fine and I got more than a handful of comments from friends that wondered why I wasn't sprinting out at the front of the pack (something I really really love to do). The first 6 on the flat Interurban trail went alright, then it's onto singletrack for a bit. This is when my glasses began to fog up and my pace became that of a snail's. I then felt fantastic running strong up the 3 miles of Cleator Road and made up a lot of ground climbing fast with easy footing and clear vision. The ridge trail ruined me. Without peripheral vision and with foggy vision, picking through the footing and twists and turns was a true challenge. Despite eating and drinking regularly, my body also began reminding me of its general depletion going into the race. I considered bailing at the 2nd to last aid station (bottom of Chinscraper), but told myself I had to give myself until the next aid station to attempt to feel better. After shuffling those 4.5 or so miles, I felt far worse and was officially done at mile 25 or so. I've never dropped at Chuckanut and actually never dropped at a 50k, but on Saturday it was the right call. Sometimes our bodies are healthy; sometimes they're not. This makes me abundantly thankful for all the healthy times.
Big thanks to Krissy and Ellen for putting on another fantastic race this year! It was amazing to see/hear about the incredibly fast competition (both men's and women's) at the front of the pack, and I know this race will just be better every year. The weather was idyllic, and despite my less than perfect run, I was still really happy to be out on the trails with so many friends. Now, time to lick my wounds and get back on the horse.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
On the Roof
I love roofing- I mean the act of actually laying shingles on a roof, not so much the material. I haven't done it in years, but was thinking about it lately as I've been down and out with a terrible case of shingles for well over a week now. This has been an odd malady, and one I've never had before, but it's been truly crippling. My shingles outbreak happened on my face and scalp, and has somehow even manifested into a strange eye infection (I'm the current star of the optometrist's office with the "hey you've gotta come see this case..." condition). Shingles is common in people over 60. I am not over 60, and I would wish this on no one. Anyway, after good care from my docs and my lovely family I'm finally on the upswing so that's encouraging. However, I feel like a slug after not being able to run for this period of time, and am just itching to be back on the trails, even for just a few miles. I know it will come soon though.
And then there's the other kind of shingles- the kind on the roof. When I was living on the coast in MS and rebuilding homes after Katrina, roofing was always my favorite task. As my operation grew larger, I wasn't able to do as much hands on work on the ground as I did in the beginning, but I remember still getting out from time to time to "slap a roof on." Often it'd be a free Saturday afternoon or something, and I'd grab a buddy, load up the big truck with shingles, and head out to a nearby job site to slap a new roof on. There was something really therapeutic about the rhythm of the pop, pop of the nail gun, and I loved the challenge of hauling shingles just as fast as I could up the ladder and to the peak of the roof over and over and over. Baking on a tarry roof in that summer afternoon MS sun was somehow relaxing for me, and a break from the hubbub of running what had become a large operation day to day. Anyway, while "shingles" to me right now equates to sickness, I know that as the itchy scabs fade and I'm back in the swing of life, the thought of shingles will once again put me up on a roof, happily sweating away.
And then there's the other kind of shingles- the kind on the roof. When I was living on the coast in MS and rebuilding homes after Katrina, roofing was always my favorite task. As my operation grew larger, I wasn't able to do as much hands on work on the ground as I did in the beginning, but I remember still getting out from time to time to "slap a roof on." Often it'd be a free Saturday afternoon or something, and I'd grab a buddy, load up the big truck with shingles, and head out to a nearby job site to slap a new roof on. There was something really therapeutic about the rhythm of the pop, pop of the nail gun, and I loved the challenge of hauling shingles just as fast as I could up the ladder and to the peak of the roof over and over and over. Baking on a tarry roof in that summer afternoon MS sun was somehow relaxing for me, and a break from the hubbub of running what had become a large operation day to day. Anyway, while "shingles" to me right now equates to sickness, I know that as the itchy scabs fade and I'm back in the swing of life, the thought of shingles will once again put me up on a roof, happily sweating away.
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