Back from the BoiZe

Great weekend with my in-laws.

Met Trumps' new child.

Had a great century from Boi to Emmett to Horsebend and back. Felt good.

Cooled down on Sunday with a 16 mi climb up Bogus. Fun.

My belly stills hurts. Actually, it has changed acutely.

I am signed up for Leadville. Now I need to get the lead out of my belly!

Tank Heaven for little Grills

I love Boise!
Like Paris in the past, Boise is not just a place.
It is a symbol, the incarnation of who I am.
In Boise, I grew into who I am. Medical provider, ultrarunner, husband.

Running in the foothills makes me so content. I cut my teeth on this granite soil. Looking down on Hull's gulch and the Treasure Valley brings back such memories. Trails beckon some new, some with myriad memories, strewn across the hills like dirty pearl necklaces.

I am thankful to have this long weekend off, to be able to visit friends and family, to have a future to dream about in Durango, Colorado.

[the title: my favorite sign ever, in Boise, of course]

The Bell Curve

I grew up in a liberal arts family.
Science and math were casually dismissed as foreign, unimportant or something about which to have distrust.

When in HS or so, I began hearing of this bell curve. This powerful entity that so simply reduced all populations to this perfectly circumscribed distribution. Tyranny of Republicanism, I shouted. How can you dictate how people will fall on a mathematical model? Growing up in an insulated, extemely well educated town, I thought for sure the bell curve was a lie. I had never even met someone who was "stupid!"

Fast forward some years. After taking physics, AKA applied mathematics, I realized the power, the beauty, the usefulness of calculus.

When I began taking my pre-med classes, I found myself for the first time at the far right of the curve, rather than in the plump apogee of its wide girth.

Drinking from the garden hose in medical school, studying my gluteus maximus off, I had a realization. You are always on a bell curve. In each given subpopulation, there is again a bell curve. When at one point you were at the far right, suddenly in a new group, you could be at the far left! Med school offered a huge realization that your position on the curve changes dependent on the population.

As a runner, in particular, an ultrarunner, I routinely accomplish objectives as part of my training that are lifelong bucket listers for others. I run a marathon every weekend.

I have always known that I was not a particularly physiologically gifted athlete. Sure, I can suffer through interminable runs and sometimes even do them faster than at snail's pace. However, I have always been well aware that I was not endowed with freakishly awesome physiology.

Intellectual knowledge of a fact is one thing. To be slapped in the face, roughly, in a raw manner, experientially, is another matter entirely.

Last weekend, I ran with JG. Young, motivated, intelligent and a hard-worker. Yes, all those things that I am not!

As my buddy Geof and I raggedly panted, WALKING up the 10-15% grade, JG slowly but effortlessly floated up the hill.

We all know that there are Lance Armstrongs, Tergats and others out there with insane physiology but it is a different thing entirely to be on the same hill and see what it really means.

I am firmly ensconced on the bell curve not at a ragged end but so sadly, right in the center. Mediocrity. A curse.

At least I have a lot of company though!

Hundred in da Hood

Saturday AM, I toed the line at 0500 in the cold and dark. My partner Geof and I were ready to blast off at the pace of a banana slug.

Olga said "go", holding the official race time keeper which looked suspiciously like a beat-up Timex.

Geof and I have become friends and evolved into running partners. He's perfect: ruggedly handsome, self-deprecating and reliable. We run well together- but he always beats me at the end!

We ran well once the sun came up. As always, it was trying to run at a good pace with flashlights.

I never feel good in races. In fact, if I just don't feel bad, that's good.

I kept feeling strong and motivated. Geof and I kept reining each other in, thinking of the 100 miles to go.

I would lead him on the flats and down hills and he would lead me on the uphills.

Geof apparently grew up in same toxic soup that I had. He was a master at self-deprecation- just like me. The best defense is an offense. Insult yourself before anyone else can! We both excel at this and passed the time insulting ourselves for the other's enjoyment. What can I say? We're both givers!

The day was sunny and quite cool.

We ran well to mile 28. I had already had two bouts of diarrhea. The second time, I had to wipe my arse with my running hat because I had lost my T.P. I had literally become a shithead.

Geof and I teamed up with powerful Pam. We talked the miles away. Except for a moment of mental weakness around 40, I continued to feel strong and positive- a rarity for myself.

We were welcomed by Craig Thornley et al at the mile 45 aid station. He always does a great job and knows what to do. The bad news was Lemiti was not to be a true AS and we had over 10 miles to go to the next aid.

The day became increasingly hot. Geof and I kept running and running and running. My Garmin watch told me that maybe we hadnt missed the next aid station but my empty water bottles, gel flask and Geof's increasingly negative, worried and gruff utterances said otherwise!

Finally, when we were both out of water and food, and getting increasingly upset, we stumbled onto a dirt road and an AS.

We were at mile 58. The route had not been marked correctly and the first 12 or so people had missed the 55 mile AS. We had run 13 miles without aid.

Geof was feeling bad but he had two great crew to help. His loving wife was sacrificing her time on her birthday. Also, Joe Grant was there to pace him. Joe is a jedi runner who just kicked some arse with scott jurek at the run around Mt Blanc.

I complained a lot, filled up on human interaction, and took off slowly.

Geof and Joe passed me about 1/2 mile from the turnaround at Breitenbush.

Geof and I had run 58 miles together. The rest of the race, I would be alone.

I continued to feel awesome. I came into mile 75 AS where I was sposed to pick up my pacer, Mike Hall. Unfortunately, I was outrunning my predictions for when I would arrive at this AS. I left word for ham radio operators to try to find Erica and Mike so they wouldn't come here.

Erica had repeatedly asked if she could crew me. I feel guilty having her sacrifice her day so she can see me every two hours. I asked her to come see me at mile 75. She passed the day hiking with the babies. Yeah.

A short mile or so after this AS, I dramatically slowed, feeling quite human. I was passed by a guy and then didnt see another runner for about 15 miles. Mark Tanaka passed me at the 91 mile AS. From about mile 80, I was walking. I kept doing the "ultra math" and reasoned that I could walk the whole time and still finish under 24 hours. This had been my goal. For the first time ever in a race, I felt contentment. I was totally happy with myself, didnt mind getting passed- as long as I finished under 24! I went from 10th place to 14th by the finish line.

It became quite cold- around 33o. My teeth were chattering. I finished at 20:53.

This was a huge PR for me. Although I could have run more the last 20 miles and probably kept 10th place and finished just under 20 hours, I was so content.

What is living?

Feeling pensive today.

I just found out my friend, Dave Terry, died unexpectantly on the 13rd of September. Dave was an amazing ultrarunner. He was gifted with a great attitude, longevity in the sport and a love for his work. He was always so very humble, supportive and engaging.

I am sad that I did not get to run with him as he was injured of late.

Unfortunately, he did not make my last Scotch-tasting party, so here's to you!

He died young. It is little consolation but he lived life to its fullest.

Mothers and friends are always telling me to be careful with my life, be careful with my body, my joints.

Live life in a bubble- you may die on the couch from the undiagnosed aortic aneurysm that ruptures.

Live life without abandon and you walk off the highest peak.

Run the life out of your knees doing ultras, you may need a total knee replacement.

Sit on the couch and munch M & Ms, that same total knee is looking you in the eye.


So my compromise, live life to the fullest, but say your prayers, eat your wheaties, wear your helmet and seat belt, then kick ass.

Mt. Hood circumnavigation

Against my better judgment, I decided to run around Hood, only one week after my 100k effort. Mike Hall and I slept at timberline the night before. Mike is a colleague and friend from work. He is a man of few words. He is an Ironman and marathoner but a ultra neophyte. We ate at the brew pub, Ice Axe, the night before. I fell asleep after two stouts assisted with the carbo load. We woke at 4 AM. I slammed a recovery drink and diligently slirped down some Wasp vomit. This “new” Japanese product is amino acids cultivated from WASP gastic juices- called VESPA. These wasps are known to fly at high speed up to 50 miles a day. I thought it was worth a try to see if it truly led to glycogen sparing and increased fat burning. At 5 dollars a slurp though, I was very skeptical.
I felt strong from the beginning physically. No sore or tired muscles. My lower abdomen did not hurt very much. Mentally, I was not committed. I felt like my focus was not there. If Mike had not been with me, I would have probably not started or would have turned around very early. I got a little motivation when I ran into Mike Burke at Timberline. I got a little excited, thinking about future runs and races.
Mike and I made fairly good time to mile 15. Once we passed the meadow where I took a wrong turn two weeks ago, I finally was content running. The meadows were gorgeous despite not being at their peak. We made excellent time to Elliot. We lost at least 30 minutes while we scoped out a safe descent. We attempted to take the original descent. It cliffed out with a scrabble on loose rock and dust. It probably would have been safe to ascend, from the CCQ direction. We finally found the Mazama rope and got down safely. I suddenly lost my umph and got pretty tired at the marathon mark. I think I used up some mental and physical energy with the Eliot crossing then it started to heat up. Oh, that and I had run 27 miles already and 100k the week before!

Mike and I slogged on. Making reasonable time. We finished at 12:30. Mike did a wonderful job for his first 40 miler. He never complained. For me, I was reacquainted with the humility that can only come from doing something exceedlingly arduous.

Where's Waldo- August 22, 2009

Showed up the night before, early for a change. The prior entire year, I had had no “fire in the belly” for this race as my running partner, Geoff, would say. Last year’s brutal heat and the competitive field made me see this as an onerous training run. I actually got motivated the night before, finally. Woke and slammed some calories. Felt ok early on with cool temps. The day slowly warmed but was very reasonable. I could not run my normal pace from early on. Lots of training at a slow pace and a sore lower abdomen conspired to cause an unnatural, slightly painful stride. After the PCT 50 miler, I developed chronic lower abdominal muscle pain and it had not yet gone away. I felt strong otherwise and ran my own, slow race. An uggy belly hit me at 47 miles, and lasted most of the race. My goal was to finish initially at 11 hrs, then 11:30, then 12:00. I could not run fast enough due to my sluggish core and leg turnover. I finished in 12:30. Overall, a good day. I ran my own pace and had no problems that I could have prevented- except maybe if I tapered!