Mt. Charleston II: The Revenge

A year ago April, I ended a post with this: "Now don't you go getting too comfortable Charleston. You won this time, but I'll be back. Oh yes, I will be back."


Today, I was back. 

In 2011, I was blissfully unaware of the fact that there's basically zero chance that Mt. Charleston is snow-free and passable in April. Needless to say, I never made it to the peak.

This time around the conditions were far better, but the trek to the top was no picnic. I headed up with fellow Vegas runner Shad, who seems to have run everything worth running in the greater Southern Nevada area -- including, of course, a few passes at Mt. Charleston. We started from Trail Canyon (~7,500ft) just after 8AM, connected to the South Loop trail, pushed all the way to Charleston peak at 11,916ft, and then bombed our way back down the North Loop trail back to Trail Canyon. We found ourselves back at the parking lot after 3 hours and 42 minutes of running (well, running and hiking).

Between the altitude and the elevation gain, the almost-18 miles was pretty damn challenging. But was it worth it? Oh, you bet it was...

Just an hour from the Vegas desert, really

Did Yoda make the trip? You bet.

Snack stop, only slightly worse for the wear

An old airplane wreck near the peak

Successful at 11,916ft

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Bishop High Sierra 50k

Ok, so I'm way behind on posting about the Bishop 50k -- which was back on May 19. But it was a fun race so let's agree to forgive my procrastination and get on with it.

I'm not going to lie, in the few days leading up to the Bishop 50k (and note, I ran the 50k, but there was also a 20 mile, 50 mile, and 100k race) I wasn't really that excited about it. I'd been traveling a lot and the idea of driving five hours up to Bishop rather than sleeping in my own bed wasn't exactly making me giddy. But I'd paid the money, and being the cheap so-and-so that I am, I wasn't going to miss out -- and I'm glad I didn't. Why not? Well, let's count down what makes for a great race...

1. Great people

(Photo: Rose Daly)

We had an awesome group that headed up from Vegas -- I hitched a ride with Casey Harney and we met Shad Mickelberry, Ashlee Homan, and Paul and Rose Daly up there. Better still, all the folks I met at the race (and after) were very cool. If the people at a race suck, it's tough to have a good time -- not the case for the Bishop races so a big check mark here.

2. Organization and course support
I can hop in my car and go pretty much anywhere and go for a run, but what sets a race apart is that somebody's taken the time to mark off the trail and there are friendly faces along the way to keep me from keeling over from dehydration, low salt, and hunger.

Race director Marie Boyd and her crew definitely delivered. The race website was very informative and I felt like I knew where I knew everything I needed to know ahead of the race. Though I struggled occasionally with the pink course ribbons blending into the browning scrub, the course marking was great overall and I had next to no trouble following the trail.

Better still, the aid crews were, in a word, awesome. When I got to aid stations I was attacked by at least one, sometimes two, station volunteers grabbing my bottle to fill it up, asking me what I needed, and then getting me back out on the course as quickly as possible. So a big thanks there!

3. The course

(Photo: Ben Jones)

Obviously, go out and pay money to run a race, you ideally want to be running something cool. I give Bishop mid marks here -- and let me explain. In my short time of trail running I've done some pretty sweet running including a Grand Canyon double crossing and a 47-mile trek through Zion. In addition, I think the Bootleg Canyon trails that I run on a weekly basis here in the Vegas valley (site of the Bootlegger 50k!) -- with their sweet single track and views of Lake Mead -- are killer.

The Bishop course did have some nice views of the Sierras -- definitely a plus. On the downside, the course itself was largely ATV roads rather than single track and there were a bunch of sandy patches that just weren't that fun to run through. Maybe I just need to get back out there again to get a better appreciation, but for now, like I said, I give the course mid marks.

4. Competition

(Photo: Rose Daly)

Local Vegas runner Josh Brimhall (owner of Red Rock Running Company) was slated to go out for the 100k race, but he had to pull out at the last minute. The 100k course record holder Jorge Maravilla was there, but he dropped down to the 50k and treated it as a fun run, finishing in 7:03 (his 100k record is 9:40). Over the years, the race has attracted other significant talent as well -- notably Ann Trason holds the 50-mile record from back in 2003.

I'll be honest though, as a severe novice, it's cool to see great runners lining up at the start, but I don't really mind a less competitive race. My fellow Las Vegas runner, the ass kicker who goes by Shad, ran a solid race and won the 50k in 4:49. I ran my best 50k to date (otherwise known as my second 50k) and took third at 5:14.

5. Fun goodies
Yes, it does make a difference what goodies a race gives out. I'm no sponsored runner and the idea of getting free stuff (even when it's baked into the price of your race entry...) is still pretty awesome to me. So here's the deal with the Bishop goodies... The pre-race dinner was included and it was actually a darn tasty meal, +1. The local Sage to Summit store gave us a $10 no-strings-attached coupon that I used to get some new socks, +1 there too.

The race shirt... umm... well... it's very... pink. It's really, really pink. I mean it's like "view through a pinhole solar-eclipse style so you don't burn your retinas" pink. Had I known, I probably would have asked for a small and given it to my wife. Will I ever wear it? I won't say "never," but know this: If I do where it, you will know, wherever you are, because it is that bright and that pink.

The bottom line
The entry fee and five-hour drive out to Bishop turned out to be very well worth it. Would I run it again? There are soooo many great races that I would like to run, so I'm not sure that I'll be running too many non-local races multiple times, but if I don't have something on my schedule near there next year I could definitely see myself going out again -- maybe next time for the 50-mile or 100k course. Of course there's a caveat with that -- Marie Boyd is retiring as race director, so it will be interesting to see who will pick up the reigns and whether they'll be able to do the outstanding organizational job that she did.

And one final thought to leave you with... It's never a bad time when you can find the energy for a karate kick mid-race.

(Photo: Ben Jones)

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Ouachita Trail 50 Race Story and Some Lessons

As the late-morning sun filtered through the trees at mile 29, I realized that the race had really just started for me. It was at that point, as I guzzled water to help force a gel down my throat, that I realized that I’d rather eat bark off a tree than choke down another Montana Huckleberry flavored Hammer gel (no offense Hammer, but you know how it is). Three miles later, after grabbing some pretzels and Coke from an aid station, my knee, which had been giving me trouble for a few months, stiffened up and felt like somebody was hammering a chisel into it – with gusto. I limped along for a few minutes before I got some range of motion back and was able to painfully stagger forward. Four miles later, as the afternoon shadows set in and made the blue blazes on the trees tough to spot at a glance, I managed to hop off the trail and suddenly find myself in the midst of a forest that looked exactly the same in every direction.

Ok, to be fair, there was plenty that got me to that point at mile 29. Though the elevation profile of the race isn’t particularly intimidating, it makes sure to abuse you right from the start. After a few miles of easy pavement running, the trail snakes you up to Pinnacle Mountain. This isn’t really a mountain as far as mountains go, but what it lacks in height it makes up for in vertical wrath. There’re no switchbacks here. There’s no easing your way into the climb. Instead, the Ouachita Trail spits you out into a field of large boulders which runners are forced to climb, scramble, and otherwise stumble up in order to summit Pinnacle. And if the climb doesn’t manage to get your quads pumping, the descent on a similarly technical field of boulders was bound to get the job done.

At the top of Pinnacle. Courtesy of Arkansas Outside.

With something like 1,000 feet of the climbing in the rearview, one might be tempted to think that the next 43 miles would be cruising. Not so fast. Literally. Roots, rocks, and the undulating trail make for some very technical running that provides ample opportunity to stub, bang, trip, slip, tweak and otherwise abuse your feet, ankles, and anything else that’s unlucky enough to smash into the ground when your footing gives way. A magnet for spills, I did manage to fall twice, but luckily both were painless.

Not to give the impression that this race was anything less than a fantastic experience. Rain the prior day had ushered in cooler temperatures – high 60s and low 70s, absolutely perfect running weather from the perspective of this desert rat. As I’m no longer used to living somewhere where flora with any sense is willing to live, being surrounded by the lush green of the forest was food for the soul. And a largely well-organized race with some great aid-station volunteers and a race crew of my own (Jackie and Shelley!) that was on it, made for a really great day of running.

Not that any of that does anything in the moment to cushion the blow of suddenly realizing that you’re not on the trail and there is no one else anywhere nearby.

A final charge for the finish line

I’m not going to lie, I was minutes away from throwing a tantrum when I lost the trail. I’m no expert outdoorsman nor do I know a lick about the Arkansas wilderness – save a bit of research I did on the Ouachita Trail to prepare for the race. But with aching legs and the whispers of panic in the back of my head, I did my best to retrace my steps and, with equal parts luck and determination, managed to get back on track after losing 10 minutes or so.

Relief washed over me as I kicked back into gear and my lungs started pumping the pine-tinted air again. I hit an aid station a few miles later and fueled up with some oranges, pretzels, and more Coke – a lot of Coke. Mile 42. Four more miles to the East Pinnacle parking lot where I’d see my crew again. Skrillex’s “Kyoto” came on. I turned up the volume on my Shuffle. When it finished, I played it again. I played it five times in a row. East Pinnacle parking lot. More oranges, more Coke, a Biofreeze bath from my crew. Mile 46. The final miles of the race shifted to mostly pavement. After humping technical trails all day I felt like I was flying. 7:30 pace. 6:45 pace. It was a great race but I was ready to be done.

Crew chief Jackie

I crossed the finish line at nine hours and 11 minutes in ninth place. I was greeted by race director Chrissy Ferguson who congratulated me and hung the porcelain race medal around my neck. At that point I was more than ready to dig into the burger and dog barbeque.

It was a darn fun race and a great way to break my way into the 50-mile category. But in the aftermath, it’s time to autopsy to figure out what went right and wrong. Because, hey, if we’re going to improve at anything, we have to know where we can improve, right? So here goes.

Crew lieutenant Shelley

What went right…

• Salt. This has been a significant issue for me on any effort above four hours and actually hung me up for about a half hour at Phantom Ranch when I was doing the Grand Canyon R2R2R. At the time, I didn’t know that salt was the issue, but at this point I’ve figured out that if my stomach feels like it wants to crawl out of my mouth, it’s likely a salt issue. Now I stay ahead of it, taking at least one tab per hour. During this race, I started out taking one/hour and upped that to one/45 minutes later in the race. Miracle of miracles, no nausea issues.          
• Food. Yes, I did get sick of the Montana Huckleberry Hammer gels that were at the aid stations, but to be fair, part of that was because I was tossing them back aggressively right from the start. I combined those with gels, chews, and the Ginsting waffles that I brought and then switched over to handfuls of pretzels, orange slices, Coke, Gatorade, and Heed from the aid stations later in the race when I couldn’t stomach the energy foods anymore. I was shooting for 200 calories/hour and I’m not sure that I quite got there, but I wasn’t too far off. Upshot: No bonk.          
• Crew. When I ran my first ultra (the awesome Bootlegger 50k), I had no idea what to really tell Jackie to do as my crew. During the race, I mostly zipped by her (I also bonked hard in that race). This time, I had bags ready to go and I let Jackie and Shelley know what was in there and what I might need. I also prepared for the aid-station stops well in advance so I knew exactly what I needed by the time I reached them. Better still, when I could, I let them know what I’d need at the next aid station so that they could have it out and ready.          
• Music. I rarely train with music, so it was on a bit of a whim that I decided to buy a Shuffle and race with music. Great decision. Still probably won’t train with music – as my high school wrestling coach said, you don’t want to distract yourself from the pain of training because you need to know how to overcome it – but for keeping motivated and moving during a race, it was great. And, man, those new Shuffles couldn’t be better for clipping on a hat and having the whole setup out of your way. It also helped that I took a while to set up a great playlist – songs that were indispensable: Skrillex, “Kyoto”; Nappy Roots, “Good Day”; The Roots, “The Fire”; and RobotDojo, “Robot’s Lament.” I don’t want to take anything away from my enjoyment of Eric Johnson’s “Cliffs of Dover,” but I got lost while that song was on. May have to take that off for future races. Just saying.

What went not so right…

•  It is trail running after all. I’m lucky enough to live in an area where there is some very technical trail running. That means that I should be well prepared for all but the most technical trails anywhere I run. This doesn’t work out that well, however, if I only hit those trails once per week. Spending more time honing my actual trail-running skills by, ummm, running on trails, will no doubt help on future races.          
• Shoes. I’m loathe to badmouth my Inov8 Roclite 295s. They were my first true trail shoe and they’ve been with me for some momentous moments in my nascent trail-running career. Golden Hills trail marathon, Grand Canyon R2R2R, Bootlegger 50k, 47-mile trek through Zion, and now the Ouachita Trail 50 – it was all the Roclites. Not to mention countless miles of training. However, the toe box on the Roclites is really big and for a naturally clumsy chap like myself, that makes stumbles and falls a near guarantee. For whatever reason, I also end up with a blood blister on my left big toe almost without fail on anything over 20 miles. And while they have great traction from the big lugs on the sole, they are awful for running on pavement. So, with much love, retirement for the Roclites is right around the corner and I’ll be looking elsewhere for my next trail shoe. 
• Navigation. I’m not really sure whether there was a way to prevent myself from going off trail and getting lost. Because of how technical the trail was, it was crucial for me to keep my eyes on the trail to keep from doing a face-plant. I saved at least two other runners from getting lost when I yelled them down as I watched them trot off in the wrong direction and my crew overheard at least a few other runners complaining about how tough it was to keep on the trail at some points. On the other hand, I could be much better prepared for how to handle going off trail. As it was, I immediately started trotting around trying to find the trail again. Bad idea. In seconds I had no idea where I was when I first realized that I was off course. If I had at least marked that spot somehow I could have systematically traced my way back to the trail. As it was, I got really lucky. It probably wouldn’t hurt for me to brush up on some wilderness navigation skills.          
• Crew. My crew was awesome and I did a better job preparing them for what I needed. What I didn’t do was think about what they might need. I don’t know how other runners do it, but next time I’ll plan to have some food/snacks packed for the crew. I’m quite sure this isn’t the only race that provides relatively little opportunity for crew to shoot off and get food and a hungry crew is not a focused crew. Or a happy one. Or one that is very likely to agree to follow you around for 50 miles again in the future.

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Iron Supplements

For a while I had been randomly mixing lifting and other cross-training into my run training. There was no science to it, and frankly really very little thought at all up until the day of when I'd muse, "I think I'll [squat / deadlift / cycle] today." That, of course, meant that there was no strategizing with regard to what exercises would make the most sense, what weight I should use, or how the lifting fit in with my running.

More recently, I'd laid off lifting altogether and had been focusing almost solely on running, with just the occasional bit of stationary cycling mixed in when necessary for injury purposes.

But now, it's time to start lifting again. So I made Dave Koppenheffer of Powerhouse Psychology (also, as you might guess, my brother) my official weight coach. Dave's not a runner, he's a power lifter. He doesn't even like running. But if I had any doubts as to whether he'll do a brilliant job directing the weight-lifting portion of my training, he smashed those doubts with his introduction to the lifting plan that he designed for me.

Here's what he had to say:

"My goal is to help build strength for injury prevention and muscle explosiveness and endurance. ... [On] uphills when your stride shortens because it feels like you're running in quicksand -- that feeling comes from weakness in the hams and hips. Hopefully we can cure some of that. ... My theory is this: long distance runners aren't considered explosive athletes, but in my opinion that's false... The ultimate goal is to bridge the gap between explosiveness and muscle fatigue."

I'm no expert, but that makes a lot of sense to me. What makes even more sense is that the program Dave has designed for me revolves around low-rep, high-weight exercises that will emphasize the fast-twitch muscle fibers that don't get as much work during long running sessions. My hope -- basically echoing Dave's words -- is that this will balance out my fitness, provide additional stability, and help cut down on injuries.

At this point, I've knocked out week one of the program, a power session consisting of nine sets of high-weight, three-rep box squats -- an exercise that Dave has picked out specifically for its applicability to the running muscle groups -- followed by a final set where I knocked out as many reps as I could (I managed 14).

Of course maybe most important as far as a trainer or coach goes, Dave has said that he plans to be very flexible to focus in on what seems to be working and shed the things that aren't working. So on that note... it's time to GET SOME!


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2012

No, this isn't a review of a bad movie, nor is it my New Years Eve plans.

The last possible race on my 2011 calendar was the Las Vegas Rock 'n Roll half marathon. I've run it the past two years and had a lot of fun with it, but this year the half marathon is $150. That's insane. So I won't be running it. Oh well, I'm sure they're not crying their eyes out at the for-profit Rock 'n Roll that they won't be getting my entry fee -- the marathon is already sold out and the half almost certainly will as well. Besides, they'll get me for the San Diego Rock 'n Roll in June. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

In any case, with 2011 essentially over running-wise, it's time to start thinking about 2012.

My first race is already set: The Houston Marathon in January. Now that I've done my complaining about how expensive the Rock 'n Roll series is, I should admit that Houston will probably go down as the most expensive entry fee I'll ever pay. I (stupidly) missed the date for the lottery and my mom and friends got in, which meant that I could miss out or pony up for the charity entry. I took the latter route. My bank account's reaction: "Ouch!"

It'll be a fun race though -- it's a road race and very flat, so I can see if I still have any speed chops left now that I've turned my attention more towards trial and ultra races. Also, the Olympic trials for the marathon will be taking place the day before the commoners run the course.

Choices, choices, choices
My main goal for 2012 is to run my first 50-mile race. I figure that April is a pretty good month to target for scheduling that race and I've got a few on my radar.

American River 50-mile - I've never heard of this race (not that I'm a grizzled vet that knows all the major races), but it looks like a really good one. The race is in Auburn, CA, not surprisingly right along the American River. A big upshot is that the race is run by the Norcal Ultras, who ran the Golden Hills Marathon that I really enjoyed. Downsides include that it's on the pricier side ($165) and there's a decent amount of pavement on the course.

Lake Sonoma 50 mile - I love the Sonoma region of CA and from the pictures this looks like a beautiful course. It also looks like a tough course (10,500 ft of climb). The course is an out-and-back which isn't totally ideal. Also, the 2011 race was cancelled due to flooding. It looks like that's the only time that's happened, but still, that would really suck to get all my training in and then have the race cancelled.

Zane Grey Highline 50 mile - This is in Arizona and I've heard a lot of talk about this race -- it's known for being particularly challenging. An advantage is that I know a bunch of people that have run this so I can get a pretty good idea of what to expect. However, I'm not totally sure that this is the right race for my first 50.

Mokelumne River 50 mile - Definitely never heard of this one, but it looks like a really cool course. It's in Comanche Lake, CA in the Sierra Nevadas. This looks like a ridiculously hard course with 11,639 ft of climbing. It's also an out-and-back. Particularly concerning is the fact that the time limit is 12.5 hours -- I'm honestly not sure that with that amount of climbing that I'd be able to hit that limit. This race is a dark horse contender, but it's on the list...

Leona Divide 50 mile - This is another race where I know a lot of folks that have run it -- and done quite well. Looks like a fun race and well organized which is a definite plus. Another out-and-back course (maybe I should stop worrying about that...). Tough course for sure, but not quite as tough as some of the others above (8,900ft of climb). This is the current front runner (so to say).

I'm guessing I'll have to make up my mind pretty soon because these races all have pretty limited fields. At this point I'm leaning toward Sonoma or Leana Divide, but if anyone reading this has some sage thoughts (or, heck, not so sage...) feel free to share.

Everything else...
Getting a 50-mile that I'm excited about is my main focus for planning 2012, so filling in everything else will just be a matter of finding some fun races (and not being too bummed if I miss out on some). Like I said above, I've already got Houston in January and I'll be in San Diego in June. I'm sure I'll schedule another race with my crazy, marathon-running mom (in addition to Houston). 

On top of that, I'll definitely be peppering additional ultra races in there. Right now, the Chuckanut in Washington in March is high on my list (that'd necessitate a late-April 50-mile). Depending on how the 50-mile in April goes, I might head back out to Berkeley next fall to hit the Firetrails 50. I had a great time running the Golden Hills Trail Marathon and wouldn't mind bumping up in that event.

A little help from my friends
Of course, the most fun is when I get to run a race with friends or family -- or run a race near where friends live. That's why I'm doing Houston and San Diego. So if you happen to be reading this and have an itch to do a trail race (ok, any race...) with me, LET'S GET IT ON!


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Bootlegger 50K: Race Report and 6 Things I Learned

Crossing the finish

Though my trip to the Grand Canyon for the double-rim crossing was an ultra distance, Bootlegger was my much-anticipated first actual ultra race. And it didn't disappoint.

First things first though. The folks at Red Rock Running Company and a horde of awesome volunteers made this a really great race. The trail was well marked, organization was good, race website was awesome, aid stations were on point, and the swag was killer.

And I have to give a big shout out to my awesome crew chief -- my wife, Jackie. Sure this was only a 50K and I probably didn't need a crew, but it was really cool to have her there and she was great. Plus, a familiar face at an aid station is a nice psychological boost!

A clutch of really solid runners from Arizona came up for the race and rocked it. James Bonnett grabbed the W with a 4:09 finish. I wasn't too far behind (cough, cough) at 5:17. That scored me a 13th place finish, which I wasn't too disappointed with for my first shot at an ultra-distance race.

Rather than trudge my way through a blow-by-blow recap of the race, I figured I'd distill it down to a few "lessons learned" from the race.

1. If you want to post a killer time, don't punish your legs weeks before the race.
Tapering is common knowledge. That is, in the weeks leading up to a race, you reduce your training to make sure your legs are fresh and ready to go. I didn't do that this time around. Exactly two weeks ago, I did a 42-mile double crossing of the Grand Canyon. Two weeks ago. That's 14 days. You don't have to be a runner to know that that's not tapering.

Oh well. Would I have done it differently? Not a chance. The Bootlegger race was awesome, and I wanted to do my best. But running the Grand Canyon? That's something that's a huge privilege and I'm damn glad I did it, even if it did mean that I didn't put up the best time I could have at Bootlegger.

2. Go out amped, get slammed.
I was so excited for this race. So excited. That's great, but it also meant that I completely ignored sticking to a sober racing strategy. I bombed down the short downhill that started the race, ate up the 1,000-foot climb into the canyon, and was logging 7:30 and 8-minute miles through the flatter sections. My split on the first 15+ mile loop was around 2:20. That's roughly a 9-minute-mile pace, which is no joke for a runner of my caliber when you've got around 2,000 feet of climbing.

The result? I got owned by the second lap. I did a bunch of walking on the initial climb, more walking on the backside climbing, and my legs felt like they were running through molasses even on the flat sections. I had hoped to run either an even effort or even negative splits -- not even close. My second loop was around 40 minutes slower, putting my second-lap pace at around 11 minutes per mile.

3. Fuel, fuel, FUEL!

Cruising into an aid station

I generally try to take in around 250 calories per hour on efforts of three hours or longer. I whiffed on this badly in today's race. Why? Part of it was that cold temps early in the race seemed to sap my appetite. The brisk pace that I set at the outset of the race also made it more difficult to eat (mistakes often compound on themselves).

By the last two aid stations (roughly four hours in), I had taken in around 600 calories. Why is this a problem? The early intensity likely ate up a significant chunk of my glycogen stores and so it would surprise me not one bit if my late sluggishness had a lot to do with being low on fuel.

I gorged on pretzels, bananas, and Coke in the last two aid stations, which no doubt helped me on the last seven miles, but it would've been great to have done that earlier.

4. Downhill > Uphill
Downhill running can do a number on your legs, but I'd heard again and again that it's tough to gain too much of an advantage by being a bomb uphill runner, but sharp downhill chops can make a big difference. I saw that borne out today. Not surprisingly, I got passed while struggling up the climb into the canyon on the second lap and runners further back made up significant distance on me. But after cresting the peak I launched into some pretty quick downhill running that put me back ahead of the fella that passed me and left those closing in in the dust (well, except for one woman who ended up dusting me a few miles later).

5. You'll be warmer than you think.
I live in Las Vegas, which means that through September I'm still wrangling with 100-degree-plus temperatures. Since my blood has thinned out from years of living here, it also means that I'm not much of a fan of colder temperatures. For that reason, my immediate reaction to a chilly forecast is to layer up. But I've learned -- after doing that many times -- that I rarely end up being nearly as cold as I think I'll be once I start running. In fact, I generally end up overheating, sweating, and looking for the closest place to stash my heavier duds.

Though the forecast was for crisp 37-degree, wind-chilled temps for the morning of the race, I opted to go out with shorts, a short-sleeve shirt, thin running sleeves, and light gloves. Except for the gloves -- I ended up not being able to feel my fingers for much of the race -- it was a good call. I was plenty warm while temps were still cool and the sleeves were quick and easy to shed when it warmed up a bit.

6. Leave it all out there.
I made some mistakes today. My performance was probably hurt by the Grand Canyon voyage. Two of my goals were to run even or negative splits and finish in under five hours (the other was to just finish) and I didn't hit either. However, when I finished, I didn't have anything left in the tank. I'd put it all on the course. Perhaps I could have done better, but when you give it your all, there's not too much more that you can ask of yourself.

Loved the race, but happy to be done

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Running Las Vegas: Cottonwood Valley

You're in Las Vegas. Maybe you live here (like me) or maybe you're just in town for a visit. You're sick of the blaring lights of The Strip and you're looking for respite from the asphalt. You're in luck -- you don't have to go far to get in some awesome single-track running that will make you feel like you're light-years away from the madness of Vegas.

Blue Diamond Highway. Also known as Route 160. Also known as Widow Maker Highway. Hop on that and go west. Keep going. Go past where the housing developments end. You'll come to where Route 159 breaks off to head to Red Rock Canyon. Stay on 160, go about five miles further and on your right you'll see a parking lot with bathrooms. That's your spot.

If you're there on a weekend, you'll likely see a bunch of cars in the parking lot -- most of them are mountain bikers. Don't worry, you'll occasionally have to dodge a biker, but the trail system is vast enough that you'll be mostly left alone.

There are some rudimentary trail maps at the parking lot. They're of pretty limited use. I'm sure you can find some better maps online, but, frankly, it's not really that necessary. Just hop out there on one of the trails and get going. One of the great things about running in the desert is that it's very hard to get lost (if you're smart, pay attention to your surroundings, bla, bla, bla).

What else do you need to know? Not much. The trails aren't very technical at all, the scenery is amazing, and there is a lot to explore. So what are you waiting for? Go get some.


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