trail testing salomon sense mantras

My first attempt at a trail running video shot with my phone.

About eight weeks ago, I received a pair of Salomon Sense Mantras to test through my twitter contacts. The timing couldn't have been better. I was on the hunt for a new pair of trail shoes - something lighter than the durable if not bulky Brooks Cascadia, but built to last longer than the Montrail Rogue Racers I had blown through after 50 miles. Twice.

I had given the New Balance MT 110 a shot, but those were not quite enough protection for my feet on the technical rock of the Columbia Gorge (and they were not holding up at all). The Brooks Pure Grit, which had looked promising, were tearing up my heels like no ones business. I wasn't sure that there was a shoe for me out there.

Straight out of the box, I was hopeful. Let's be honest here. They looked cool. Mostly black with just a few red and white accents, they were a welcome change from the current trend to pink out every shoe in sight. They felt light in my hand and on my feet, and the materials looked more durable than most of the lightweight trail shoes on the market.

I did have my reservations. They seemed stiff on the sole - this is not a shoe you're going to bend in half. I wasn't sure what I would think of that. But the upper half of the shoe seemed to move well, so I kept my mind open.

I knew that to find out if they would work, I would have to get them dirty. The next day, I took them out for 8 miles on Leif Erickson Drive, a local Portland spot that is an unimproved gravel road. The surface is easy to run on, but you can start to notice the rocks under your feet with the minimalist shoes. I was pleased to notice that the stiff bottom of the shoe was doing a great job of protecting my feet, but they still managed to feel nimble. They felt great.

This is when the testing began in earnest. I took them to the Columbia Gorge where the trails are technical and the rocks are often slick. They felt fantastic. Loved them on the muddy trails of Forest Park and Tryon Creek, and I even hauled them back to Kentucky to run the roads of the Bourbon Chase Relay. They have performed admirably on every condition I have thrown at them.

One word of caution: the lugs are not super aggressive. Our fall has been relatively dry so far, so I have not been able to test them in the slippery, sucking clay mud of our trails after a few weeks of rain. I think they may slip a bit, and if the rocks are super wet, they do slip (as most trail shoes do). Salomon does make a more aggressive lug on some of their other shoes, so I may pick up a pair of those for those runs in really nasty, wet, slippery conditions, but I honestly feel these shoes will work for 85% of my trail runs.

The true test of a good shoe is whether you would buy a second pair that was not given to you to test.

My next pair is already on order.

Thank you Salomon for letting me test out your shoes!

finding inspiration on the 100 mile crew

If you are lucky, you may be given the opportunity to witness the indomitable spirit that lies inside of us. To know that it lives in those we call friend carries the whisper of the truth that it may dwell within us as well, waiting only for the right moment to be called forth. It is inspiration at the deepest level, and I had the greatest fortune to be able to be a part of what may go down on record as one of the most miserable weekends outdoors ever. And I wouldn't change a minute.

The weekend began under dark skies. With my uncanny ability to worry over the worst possible scenarios, I brooded over the troubling weather reports that predicted inches and inches of rain. I worried that my car would not be able to navigate the rough roads that led up to the start line. Heck, I worried about every possible thing that could go wrong, and then I found ways to double and triple those worries. I was a wreck. And I wasn't even running.

Megan checks in for her first 100. Smiling. Calm. Certainly not a basket case like her crew chief.

As we chatted in the cabin that evening, my mind was going a hundred miles an hour. What if it poured all day? What if it was cold? There was no way I would even start, I told myself. Megan was nuts. No way could I find that strength to toe the start line. That was normal, right? A rational, sane person would look at the impending conditions and call it off. No one would be at the start the next morning...

Except they were. And they had smiles on their faces. They were nervous, yes, but they were also quietly confident. I could feel my own weakness staring me back in my face. I wanted to be like THAT.

The only photo I have of the four of us.

Meeting up with Megan at the second aid station was a stark reminder of how tough it was out there. Eleven miles in, and she was soaked to the bone. Cold. But still able to move well, smile even.  Five minutes in the rain, and we were wet; these runners had been out in it for two hours. And they were nowhere near to calling it a day.

Marta does all the work. I take blurry photos.

The view from the cabin. We watched the rain roll across the lake all morning.

The aid station back at Olallie Lake was a tough one. Runners were coming in hypothermic, and when Megan came in, I had never seen her look so down. She was freezing; her feet were blistered from running through the water. Still, she let us put her back together to the point that she could smile again, even though 74 miles lay between her and the finish. I wanted to be like THAT.

A lovely spot near mile 54.

The bored photographer.

Through the afternoon, the rain actually let up a bit. You know, only a half inch an hour, versus the downpour that had marked the morning. When we saw Megan again at mile 54, she was feeling alright and picking up Marta to pace her seemed to lift her spirits.  We watched runner after runner pull in, most of them still smiling and positive, only a few too hurt to go on. I wanted to be like THAT.

Everyone huddled under the aid station tent.

The respite from the rain did not last, though, and as darkness fell, the rain and wind began to arrive in earnest. Runners reported trees falling behind them on the trail (with just a touch of glee, it seemed). News came down that snow was falling back up at the start line, and a tree had come down on two participants' cars. Even still, folks were coming in full of hope - tired, yes, but with a will to keep on going even as the conditions deteriorated.

In time it became clear that continuing the race was dangerous. Somewhere around 9:30 pm, the race directors called it, and when Megan finally returned to mile 71, we had to tell her it was over. I have no doubt in my mind that she would have finished the race, even though most of us would have called it a day long before mile 71. Yeah, I wanted to be like THAT.

Done.

In the end, it was not her spirit that could be broken. It was not her toughness, or her determination. Just the darn weather. And she was not the only one. All of those runners had the courage to sign up, to start, to continue, and to call it a day when the conditions, either of the course of their own bodies, were too severe to go on. But their will, their heart, their courage - that was all strong. Witnessing their battles, being a part of their journey, touched me in a way that is hard to put in to words. Seeing what is possible in others reveals what may be possible in yourself. I am inspired to push myself more, to go even deeper down that rabbit hole to see what I am capable of accomplishing.

So to all who put themselves out there for the Mountain Lakes 100, thank you. You were truly an inspiration.

an act of defiance

Down at nearly sea level. Not for long.

Just the other day, a college friend posted that it was the 20th anniversary of River Phoenix's death. Not his epic performance in Stand By Me, or his appearance on my much loved Seventeen magazine cover. No, it had been 20 years since his death that still managed to shock me long after the teenage crush had faded. While the wrinkles beneath my eyes and the children that insist on growing up have made me feel my years lately, this really made me feel old.

What's the perfect remedy for feeling old?

Trail. It's always trail. (Or a whole lot of beer and tequila. But that's a whole other story.)

My ultra patient running buddy Julie agreed to take on Mt Defiance with me. The Portland Hikers guide says this about it: "The Mount Defiance Hike is well-known as the most difficult hike in the Gorge."

They are not kidding.

It started innocently enough. Some lovely waterfalls. A little climb accentuated by the wide open expanses of the Columbia Gorge.

And then it starts to get serious.

I was in death march mode before mile 2.  Thankfully some lovely views helped to lessen the pain. Pay attention to Dog Mountain, that dome shaped monolith.

My legs were not having it. In rebellion, my mind decided that playing "B-Double E-Double R-U-N" on repeat would be an appropriate punishment. I was losing the mental battle.

She was on a mission today.

I would do my best Anton Krupicka impression and place my hands on my knees, attempting to power climb, but more often than not, I would just stop and heave in a breath or two. Every once in awhile I would remember to soak it all in.

I tried to not listen when Julie would tell me the pathetically small amount of climbing her Garmin was registering.

Yep, I was stalling on the climb.

At points the trail was crazy steep.

"Dog Mountain is just a little girly mountain now!"

Knee deep in self pity, we reached a clearing. Instant joy. The power of the mind is awesome. All of the exhaustion, pain and self doubt was gone. My body could suddenly move.

Well, at least for 1/2 a mile.

Mt Rainier and Mt Adams

Mt Adams

I never realized I could do panoramas with the iPhone. Please excuse my overuse of them for the next few adventures.

A bit more painful climbing, and we reached the summit at 4959 feet - complete with radio tower.

Conquered.

We lingered a bit and then started the jello-leg journey back down the mountain.

This will always be how I think of Julie on these runs.

And now, as I reflect on the journey, my legs pleasantly burning with the memory of the miles, I don't feel quite as aged. There's a lot of life to be lived if you are bold enough to go out and seize it. On to the next adventure!

Now I wonder what the most difficult hike outside of the Gorge might be...Julie?

About the hike: http://www.portlandhikersfieldguide.org/wiki/Mount_Defiance_from_Columbia_River_Hike

on the road to spokane

Worked my second relay in as many weeks. 

I haven't been on a road trip to Spokane in many, many years. Once again, I am blown away by how much I love the rolling brown hills and plains of Eastern Washington.  I really need to learn how to master the art of pulling over at the right spot...

Such an amazing week working the race. 

Morning on the Spokane River. Dang, that water is cold. Listening to the bald eagles, a midnight swim. Yeah, lots of memories.

Sunrise at the start line.

Looking out over the valley from the top of Mt Spokane.

I don't know. I thought it looked cool.

Driving west through the Columbia Gorge is drop dead gorgeous.

cascade lakes relay 2013 - from the other side

For the past five years, I've made the trek to Diamond Lake to run one of the most scenic and challenging relays out there. Over the years, I've come to love every nook and cranny of the course - from the morning mist rising from Diamond Lake to the baking red glare of the cinder roads.

This year I experience the race in a whole new way - from the perspective of staff. At times exhausting, exhilarating and often hilarious, I felt myself growing as the hours progressed, and here, on the other side, I feel changed. It's hard to explain.

Still, I had my camera, and while I had limited opportunities to capture the beauty of the race I call home, I found a few moments when I had to stop my car and lift my lens.

olallie lake

Great place to spend the weekend. Wanted more photos but ran out of time to hike.

mt hood 50 from the aid station

Didn't have much time to bring out the camera at the Mt Hood 50 the other day. Just a couple of shots I enjoyed. The meadow was breathtaking in the early morning fog.

Working that aid station was one of the most rewarding things I have done in a long time. If you want to feel helpful, volunteer at an ultra!

The early start

The meadow at the ranger station

Buddies. Jason just realized he brought two right shoes.

Waiting.