orcas island 2013

Mt Constitution from the ferry.

A few months back, I listened to a podcast interview with James Varner on ultrarunnerpodcast. During the course of the interview, I remember him saying that he wanted the runners in his races to feel all of their emotions during the course of their run. Well, James, mission accomplished.

Let me tell you how it went down.

Joy.
Standing on the deck of the ferry with the sun sparkling on the water was purely joyful. Even as we chatted about the looming Mt Constitution, and the visible powerline track on its northwest side, I was filled with the pure contentment that exploring the wild brings me.

Hope.

The first few miles were effortless. I wondered if this would finally be a strong race for me. The last few months of training have been tough as I've felt myself losing endurance. I took two weeks off to rest, hopeful that this would be what my body needed to grow stronger. I thought that I would maybe be able to run a strong race while still taking the photos that I loved.

A lovely little spot by the dam on Mountain Lake.

Awe.
Orcas Island is a beautiful place. Mountain Lake is no exception, and I felt myself gasping at the sheer beauty of the place. This lovely bridge was one of my favorite spots. This entire section of course was one of the prettiest trails I have run yet.

+

Anxiety.
As we headed back towards the start line and aid station 1, I could feel my anxiety about the pending climb growing. The powerline trail hops up nearly 2,000 feet in two miles. My training as of late has not included these kinds of tough climbs - the trails that have that kind of challenge have been icy and snowy. Would my base from this past year be enough?

Envy.

Powerline kicked my ass.

Let's just say that relying on your months old base is not a good training plan.

And I was extremely envious of the great climbers around me. I just had no power on the hill, and I felt myself having to stop every so often to get my heart rate back under control.

Thankfully I met some great people on the hill - including the legendary Wild Bill - and that helped me when I needed it most.

Despair.
Would the hill ever end? I caught myself looking uphill several times and being overcome with the feeling that I would never reach the top. My legs refused to respond, and I was working very hard just to keep moving. The dark little doubts were creeping in, playing with my head.

Boredom.
There's only so much climbing you can do until you get bored.

And that stupid hill had too much of it.

At least at the top we started to see snow, and then it began to fall on us, and that brought a joy of its own.

Still climbing. The route had a bit of snow but very little ice.

Elation.
Reaching the top of that powerline hill brought such a feeling of elation I could not stop smiling. The section between the top of the hill and the start of the final climb to Mt Constitution was fantastic running, with moss-covered vistas that were soothing for the soul, if not the burning quads. I flew through the forest, feeling strong now that I was not climbing.

Frustration.
Climbing again.

Mother effer.

Any strength I had been feeling. Gone.  I was dizzy on the switchbacks, stopping to recover at every one. My body was betraying me, and I was pissed.

Thank goodness the trail up to the top of Mt Constitution was gorgeous and I could distract myself with its beauty.

Friendliness.

I had the chance to meet quite a few folks on this race, and for me, that may have been the most rewarding part. I had some great chats on the climbs and at the summit of Constitution.

Which helped cushion the sting of having zero view from the top.

Surprise.

Descending down from the summit felt decent, and I spent hardly any time at the second aid station at all. Just past that point was Summit Lake, which surprisingly was frozen. It was so lovely I had to stop and take a couple of photos.

After that, I flew down the trail, feeling fantastic and passing people left and right, stopping only to get a photo of a huge fallen tree that caught my attention.

Pain.

I had been flying.

Truly.

We hit the road, and then started up another trail.  Wait, up?

CRAMP.

I shouted.

"Cramp?" a guy asked as he ran by. 

"Yes," I whimpered.

"I had one that knocked me to the ground," he said. "Don't go to the ground! It makes it worse!"

I had to chuckle a little, but then another spasm ended that.

So there I was, limping and waddling along, trying to figure out how I was going to keep moving forward.

And of course, here are two trees across the trail that I have to get over.

Seriously?

Humor

As I straddled the trees, I started laughing. How ridiculous was this - me, leg cramping, straddling two trees in the dead of winter and unable to get all the way over, miles into a race that most people call me crazy for running...

Perhaps laughter IS the best medicine, because shortly after making it over the tree, my leg quit seizing and was able to start running again.

Mountain Lake.

Anger.
Less than a mile to go, and I am ready to finish. 

Is that another steep mother effing hill?

Are you kidding me?

Yeah, I muttered a few choice words in James' direction.

Gratitude.
Finally, the hill to the finish, the green grass of Camp Moran, the smiling high-five welcome back from James himself. Grateful to be done, grateful to be able to run in these races, grateful to see my friends, grateful for the cold beer on the porch.

Orcas Island, you were fantastic. You challenged me, inspired me, kicked my ass, renewed my love for trails.

You just might see me again.

Course notes:
I had the powerline trail described to me as "unrelenting". Competely accurate. Think 30% - 40% grade -  you are basically climbing straight up a powerline. Side stepping up the climb helped a bit. Mt Constitution was a walk in the park by comparison.  For those that have done Beacon Rock, powerline is hardesty trail, but much longer; Mt Constitution like Hamilton Mtn.

There was snow at the top of the run, but there was a good track and it was fairly wet. No ice to speak of. The trails were in great shape for this time of year.

The distance between the two aid stations was quite far due to the fact that all of the climb was in the middle. I would definitely carry water & more aid with me. I think I struggled with nutrition and definitely with hydration, though that had more to do with the fact that it was a cool day & I didn't feel thirsty than actual available aid. Even with the cool temps, I need to remember to keep drinking.

deception pass 50...{er} 25k.

"You should totally sign up for this race with me."

"Sure," I answer. "Which race?"

Megan and I are sitting around enjoying a beer after a Trail Factor run. Our conversations tend to go this way when we are high on endorphins. 

"Deception Pass 50k. You get to run over a bridge."

"I totally want to go run that."

"Cool," she answers. "Let's see if Bunky wants to join us."

And just like that, we've got another race on the calendar.

"Dude, you know that's like close to the Canadian border, don't you?" I ask her a few weeks later when we start to plan the trip.

"Really? I had no idea where it was. But you get to run over a bridge."

Megan has a thing for bridges.

Thankfully for us, we decided the five hour trip was worth it. Because it certainly was.

The view at the start line.

The Deception Pass 50k and 25k is another brilliant race from Rainshadow Running. Now we knew that Rainshadow races have a reputation for being tough. But for some reason, we convinced ourselves that this race would be fairly flat. After all, the highest point was only 400 feet above sea level.

After a few dire warnings about deadly falls, slippery rocks and narrow bridges, we were off. Right away a huge "seagull" swept across Cranberry Lake and landed in a snag just above us...and showed us his beautiful bald eagle head. And just that quickly, I knew I wasn't going to be racing. This was the kind of day that you sit back, relax and take some photos.

Early views of the bridge.

Climbing up to the bridge.

Within the first 2.5 miles, you cross the Deception Pass bridge for the first time, running 180 feet above the water. Sea lions cavort in the water below; later we would see sea kayakers. The experience of running over the bridge was worth the trip alone.

After crossing the bridge, you start out on the first lollipop, running along Bowman beach out to Rosario Head. The trail was somewhat technical and overgrown, and the out and back sections were at times a tight squeeze. But the new and ever increasingly scenic views did not disappoint.

Stink beach.

Sometimes you just have to stop and enjoy where you are at.

A cathedral of trees.

Rosario Head.

After a couple of lollipops, you head back over the bridge for the second half of the race. At this point, I wasn't sure which way I was facing.

Snow capped peaks of the Olympics. I think.

Climbing up Goose Rock.

400 feet above sea level. A much tougher climb than anticipated.

After reaching the top of Goose Rock, you quickly descend and are faced with the choice - 1.5 miles to the finish of the 25k, or another 16 for the 50k. I started off on the 50k path - well, at least I thought I did - but my heart wasn't in it. I called home, trying to decide what to do. And that's when the girl in front of me, Susie, called out that she thought we might be lost.

What.

Sure enough, there were no more marking ribbons. So we backtracked and noticed a pink ribbon high in the tree. And a trail...sort of.

So we followed it. Right into a swamp.

But still, there were ribbons on the other side, so we hopped on through. Crazy route, I thought, but that's part of the challenge, right?

We followed the trail up to a road...wait, what?

Down the way, we saw runners popping out on the road and an obvious sign - so now we knew for sure we had been off course. We wandered down to where they were coming from and realized that this was where our cozy cabins were. The cabins with clean clothes, soft beds...

Backtracking to where we had gone off course, we hit the 25k/50k decision point again - we had added at least a mile. Argh.

Any resolve I had to finish the 50k was gone. But I was at total peace with that decision. My main motivation for this race was to see the trails around Deception Pass, and this I had done. I was not there to race or push hard; not every race has to be about reaching a new PR. Sometimes it is just enough to run, and this was one of those days. I have a feeling that I have a lot more of these days to come.

Susie was determined to soldier on, and I admired her tenacity. After some other folks came to help her towards her goal, I wished her well and headed to the finish line.

Self portrait?

Cranberry Lake.

A bonus of finishing early was that I was able to cheer in Megan and Bunky, as well as loads of other folks.

Megan finishing.

Bunky finishing.

That night we shared our tales of the trails as we camped out with the other folks at the ELC - including Susie. We shared high fives and silly name games with the kiddos. A fine way to round out the day.

The next morning, we were up early for a 30 minute recovery run and a chance to run over the bridge again. I could do that every day, I think.

Recovery run the next day.

The bridge that made it all possible.

klickitat trail

I am afraid I have done you a disservice, dear readers. I'm forever posting photos from the Columbia Gorge featuring deep green forests, cascading waterfalls and neverending climbs. You might think that this is all that the Gorge trails are made of. And while it is true that many of my favorite trails do feature these things, there is much more to the Gorge than just temperate rainforest.

The truth is that much of the Gorge is surrounded by dry plains and scrub reminiscent of California. Just 75 miles from Portland lies the Klickitat Trail, a converted rails to trails project nearly 31 miles in length. As soon as I heard about the trail, I knew it would be one I would have to explore.

Thankfully I roped faithful running buddies Julie & Sarah into joining me this weekend on an out and back from the start point in Lyle, Washington. We had no idea what to expect.

Within a mile of the start, we were drawing in sharp breaths at the beauty of the wild and scenic Klickitat River. Our appreciation for the beauty of the place was quickly replaced with fascination for the tribal fishing we could see on the wild river below us. Turns out that this is a culturally important spot for the Yakama Indians.

Traditional steelhead fishing on the narrows of the Klickitat.

With a gentle grade, the running was fairly easy along this beautiful river. While late fall rains have claimed most of the fall foliage, we could still see sparks of color along the banks.

Enjoying the view.

We decided to turn back at the 8 mile marker; while it was tempting to keep going, we knew we couldn't spend all day on the trail.

We were spared the heavy rain of the day before. Low lying clouds danced across the rocks for us.

Large stands of oak dotted the hillsides. This would be a stunning run in October.

A lone apple tree along the trail. 

Before we knew it, we were back at the car. A full morning of beautiful vistas, good running, better conversation - does life really get any better than that?

More information on the Klickitat Trail.