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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