If you haven’t heard, the sexy cougar collector from the Rogue River Valley is directing a new 100 miler in the state of Oregon.  With the demise of one-time race Hundred In The Hood, mid to late September opened up for a new ultra in Oregon and Hal Koerner, owner of the greatest ultrarunning store in the west (I might say the same about you Auburn or Seattle Running Co or Fleet Feet Bend if you put my picture on your wall), jumped on it.  The new Pine To Palm 100, to be held on September 18, is a point-to-point course from Williams, near the southern Oregon coast, to Ashland.  The course looks great, and even includes some peak-bagging in the middle of the night.  I don’t plan to run it, but since I won’t be working Pinheads at Hundred in the Hood, I’ve been lobbying Hal for a remote awesome aid station at P2P.

Did anybody else notice that P2P does not have a volunteer requirement?  Or, as Monkeyboy likes to refer to them, a volunteerism fee.  What?  No forced volunteerism?  How are they going to get volunteers?  Who’s going to work on the trails?  Some of you may recall my first post in the WS synchroblog project last January, when I made a plea to the WS board of directors to Reconsider Mandatory Volunteerism.  If you haven’t read it please go do it now and then come back.  No, I don’t like the concept of mandatory volunteerism.  And, I believe the only way we can end the madness is if WS sets the standard.  I applaud you, Hal, for thinking.  Perhaps you’ll influence future 100 mile RDs to at least think about it before they implement one.  And for those of you who think we should be encouraging runners to give back to the sport by requiring volunteering, please explain to me why shorter trail races don’t have such requirements?  I mean, if we’re going treat ultrarunners like high school kids, why don’t we get them early when they are doing 50Ks, 50 milers, and 100Ks?  Just think about how many more hours of free labor we’d have.  Or why not have a volunteer fee just to get into the big lotteries?  Come on, somebody tell me why I’m wrong.

On January 12, 2010, my brother Chris (a.k.a. BK), will begin a 29-day rafting trip from Lees Ferry through the Grand Canyon to Lake Mead. 297 miles. It will be his fifth time rowing a boat down the river and the third January in a row. In January 2008 my wife and I joined his group for 9 of the 28 days. It was friggin’ cold down in the canyon, and when we hiked out at Hermit Rapids it was difficult to imagine spending 19 more days down there. 9 days was enough for us. Last year, he and his girlfriend Katie (a.k.a. 2P1M or #79 or CB), did the same trip in a single 15-foot raft. Most of us thought that was crazy as the consequences of flipping with only a single boat could be dire.  They didn’t flip. His only flip has been in Lava, one the most feared rapids in the canyon, in 2008 in a 14-foot raft.

BK in Grand Canyon Jan 2008

So what’s so special about this year? BK, who just turned 40 last month, will be going solo. The chances are good that he’ll see other people down there, but in January there aren’t too many others, and it’s possible he’ll go several days without seeing a sole.  The 297 miles normally take about 16-18 days, but in January the days are short and the sun is low so you don’t get many hours on the river each day. 28-29 days is normal for January.  While I can’t imagine not training for 29 days, I can definitely relate to the allure of doing something like this. My bro and I have had many great adventures together. When Chris first told me about this trip, I was a bit shocked. Why go solo? What if you flip? What if you have a medical emergency? Why take the risk? Don’t you enjoy sharing each day’s experience with others? Sharing the excitement of going through a scary rapid? Sitting around the campfire and talking about the day that was and what is coming up the next day. I won’t forget the night before we ran Hance rapid in 2008. I had been on an epic run on the Escalante Route from our camp near Carbon Canyon to Hance. The group had actually let me try to run from camp to camp that day. It was surreal as I watched my group from high above the cliffs near Unkar, in the rafts with all my support, go down the river. I was committed. It felt very lonely in that huge canyon. It took me about 8 hours to go 3-5 river miles. Suffice to say I had a difficult time finding the seldom used route and didn’t make it to camp until well after dark. It was an epic day. The campfire was roaring and it was such a relief to be connected with my people again and them with me. We really didn’t even think about the scary Hance rapid that we had to run first thing in the morning. When we woke up the next morning, we scouted and re-scouted and re-scouted the rapid again. We didn’t start rafting until after noon! Doing all that without sharing with other humans is just something I couldn’t imagine until Chris told me he was going to do this trip solo.

Red Wall Cavern

Chris in his own words:

“This is a tremendous mental challenge and I feel I have prepared myself for something like this over the span of my lifetime. Each big event in my life has been a stepping stone for something even bigger right around the corner. Overnight backpack on Western States trail in the late 70’s with you. Four day backpacking solo in Sierra’s in 8th grade. Two weeks backpacking with you in Oregon. Riding my bike with you from Canada to Mexico at 16. Running my first Marathon at 16. Running my first 50 at American River when I was 18. Climbing Half Dome at 23. El Cap a few years later. Rowing a boat down Grand Canyon for the first time in ‘03. Where’s Waldo for the first time in ‘04. Summiting Denali in ‘05 after 27 days on the mountain. Running my first 100 miler in ‘05. Finishing Western States (the hot year) in ‘06. Removing alcohol from my life in ‘06. Single boat Grand Canyon trip with Katie last year in January. I have known about this solo trip launch date since February 24, 2009. I have prepared my mind specifically for this effort over the last 10 months. I feel ready.  I am most anxious about the unknown. That is what makes this trip so awesome. Twenty nine days alone (a full lunar cycle) is unique. Spending that much time alone in Grand Canyon is bound to be monumental. I was scared last month. Now I am focused and eager to start my journey. I respect the potential danger I face. I am ready to look around the corner at Lee’s Ferry.”

BK Doing A Headstand Near Lee's Ferry

So what are we going to do while he floats down the river for 28 days? We’re going to keep track of him through the SPOT GPS device he’s taking with him. We can track his progress via the map below. He has to push a button to send out a signal that tells us where he is. He expects to do this once a day or maybe a couple times a day if there are huge rapids. Have a great time, bro. We’ll be watching and we’ll be looking forward to hearing lots of stories as you pace me on Cal St at Western States this year. I love you.

February 9, 2010 Update:

Chris has reached South Cove in Lake Mead safe and sound after 297 miles.  Looking forward to hearing the stories.  Hopefully he’ll write a guest post on his adventure.

It was just over one year ago that I decided to jump into the blogging world, and what a year it has been.  I had kicked around several ideas on what type of blog to have, including politics; one of many aspects of ski patrolling; religion (or lack thereof); some nerd topic like computing clusters, databases, or Mac OS X system administration; and even an “I ran four miles today” training diary.  None were really firing me up, or conducting my juices.  But, after listening to Ariana Huffington’s advice to “blog your passion” and looking around the ultra blogosphere it became obvious that it had to be about ultrarunning and Western States 100 in particular.  With my background and connection to the race going back to 1978, it was easy to write content.  Lots of content.  Most of my friends would tell you that I’m obsessed with the race and that they don’t dare question a fact or stat I spout about WS (OD, do your yellow buckles have “One Day” on them?).  The title was easy as I had already been writing a column in my local ski patrol newsletter under the same name.  The platform was also an easy choice, Wordpress, thanks to advice from my friend Lynno.

So, after a few days installing the software, making sure I followed all the Acceptable Use Policies at the University of Oregon, and tweaking the css and php, I started with content I already had including How To Prepare for WS, the WS Trail Description, and my five previously written WS race reports.  Those first two are still very popular reads and I would recommend any first time WS runner read both of them.  I also put in my 1998 climb of El Capitan with my brother Chris, a.k.a. BK (who is about to raft the Grand Canyon solo next month), which had been on my old website.  Yeah, I used to be a climber before becoming obsessed with getting my 10-year WS buckle.

Start of 1989 Western States 100 (from WS Archives)

AJW

One of the first WS posts I did was the 1980s WS video trivia contest.  Remember, “As the sage Demosthenes Brito once said: Everyday is not the same and that’s alright by me.”  That trivia contest was followed up with the WS course and Michigan Bluff trivia contests.  WS RD Greg Soderlund jumped in and won the course trivia contest.  Even though some thought it was unfair that an RD should be allowed to answer a trivia contest about his own race, I thought it was cool that Greg participated and swiped a Conduct The Juices t-shirt from my friend AJW.  Speaking of AJW, how much fun did we have with him?  Remember the Top Ten Signs You May Be AJW, the Ten Year Bet, or the Jizzle Wizzle Mile?   Thank you, AJW, for being such a good sport and for providing me with so much material.

Then there was the WS Synchroblog Project, which proved to be wildly successful, if you measure success in terms of visits.  I spent a lot of time researching and interviewing people for my five posts and I’m proud of each of them:

• End Mandatory Volunteerism
• WS Family
• The Haggin Cup (I think this was my best of the five).
• The River Crossing
• On the Origin of Pacers

Dr Richard Barsaleau on Liftaway at Cougar Rock (from teviscup.org)

Thanks to my fellow synchrobloggers Bryon Powell, Scott Dunlap, Sean Meissner, and AJW for going along with my crazy idea.  Only time will tell if we really made any impact, but the whole project was a lot of fun and I’ll always remember those synchroblog days, getting up and watching the frenzy.  What a blast.

Humor also played a huge role in conducting my juices.  Remember all the top ten lists including the top ten signs you may be AJW, things you might hear at RVR, reasons why Twietmeyer retired, or the things my wife loves about me, to name a few.  Or the Legend of Ticer, the Oregon Naming Conventions, or the crazy Leadville 100 race report I wrote for lowercase (and his retort)?

lowercase in front of his prized Selleck

I never thought I could do this all by myself and I’m grateful to all my guest posters.  Remember when lowercase (Lewis Taylor) stepped in and guest blogged while we were at Michigan Bluff training for a week?  He blogged daily, trying to duplicate our training in Eugene.  Cougarbait, Twiet, SLF, my wife Laurie, Robert Blair, Lynn Nelson, and White Trash also provided great content.  Thanks to each of you.

We also covered several controversial topics.  One thing my friend lowercase and I discussed before starting this blog was how the best thing about our sport is that everybody is positive.  At the same time, one of the not so good things about our sport is that everybody is positive.  It’s almost as though it is taboo to criticize a race, a runner, or any aspect of our sport.  Even if a race sucked, the race reports are almost universally positive.  Why? Is it because most of us are volunteers and we don’t want to criticize volunteerism?  I say bullshit.  Our sport is experiencing serious growing pains.  If we can’t objectively analyze races or other aspects of our sport, then we’ll have a difficult time improving.  I’m not one to shy away from controversy or a little heat and we had several good conversations.  We fired some people up with Cougarbait’s Why Max King won’t win WS; Twiet’s Course Changes; my Sportsmanship, 1687, and Lottery Season posts.

On a more somber note, we came together as a community and remembered the great northwest ultrarunning legend, Dave Terry, who we lost unexpectedly in September.  May you rest in peace, Dave.   We’ll be running in your memory at Chuckanut 50K this coming March.

There were many other posts, but that’s enough links for you to read for a few weeks and I think hits the highlights of the first year.  I’ll go one more year at this blogging thing and then re-evaluate.  When the juices stop flowing I’ll stop.  Until then, let me know what you think or if you have ideas on topics that should be addressed.

Here’s to a great ultrarunning year in 2010.  Western States is less than six months away.  Get training.

It is lottery season. Ultra lottery season, that is. With the biggies WS, Massanutten, and Miwok already done and Way Too Cool, Wasatch, CCC, Hardrock, and others still to come, there have been some very happy people and many more disappointed people. This whole lottery business is fascinating. Some races still do first-come, first-served, but there seems to be a common belief that lotteries are somehow more fair. For example, whereas getting into Way Too Cool used to favor those with some technical savvy and a fast internet connection as you had to be on the computer at 8:00am (or 7:53am a few years back when it opened early, uh oh) and get all your info entered and credit card approved within minutes, the new lottery levels the playing field. Or at least that’s what race organizers think. If you get selected, then you probably think the lottery is fair. However, if you’re one of the many who don’t get selected, you might think otherwise.

Not all ultra lotteries are the same. Some like Hardrock and Wasatch are weighted, so people with more finishes or presumably a better chance of finishing, have volunteered at the race, or have lost in previous lotteries, have a greater chance of being selected. Others like WS (until next year), Miwok, and Way Too Cool give equal weight to all entries (whether qualified or serious about entering or not, but I digress). But, regardless of whether it is weighted or not, the lottery process must be trusted. Participants need to believe that the process is not rigged or otherwise pre-determined. When WS used to pull names out of a GUBrew bucket it was clear that the selection process was not rigged. People would go up and draw names. The person drawing couldn’t see the names on the sheets of paper, and no names were ever pulled twice. However, we couldn’t know for sure that our name was in the bucket.  With their new process, that issue still remains, plus now they are reliant on a random selection algorithm on a computer in some machine room in sky daddy knows where.  Transparent and open?  Not so much.  Fair?  Depends on whether you think lotteries should be weighted.

Massanutten uses a very creative, open, transparent, and random process. As entries come in, they are assigned a random number between 0 and 999. 180 names are drawn from those entrants. The seed is based on the last three digits of the Dow Jones Industrial Average at the close of lottery day. The person with that number is selected, and if the DOW closes up, the next 179 people on the list get selected. If the DOW closes down, the previous 179 people get selected (see process here). Creative, transparent, and open? Absolutely. Fair?  Again, only if you think lotteries shouldn’t be weighted.

My wife recently forwarded me a short story written by Shirley Jackson in 1948 for The New Yorker magazine, appropriately titled The Lottery. She had first read it in high school, but not being very literary or someone who went to the same school as President Barack Obama, I had never read this story before. It’s good. If you haven’t read it, I suggest you take a few minutes and read it first before coming back to this post (link here).

So what do you think? Pretty dark story, huh? Obviously in this lottery, unlike our race lotteries, you do not want to get selected. But similar to our lotteries, it’s easy to think there is nothing wrong until you are (or aren’t) the chosen one. Poor Mrs Hutchison grew up in this small town and had most likely participated in many lotteries, presumably never complaining until she is selected in the lottery. I can hear her cries of, “It’s not fair.” echoing across the land as this ultra lottery season continues.

I would never suggest there is only one right way to select a field for races, but open and transparent are characteristics I believe must be considered important. Fair is much more difficult to define.

What say you?

Guest Post by Robert Blair

Robert Blair is a “two time loser” when it comes to 100 mile races.  He entered AC100, which was cancelled by the largest fire in L.A. history, and the Chimera 100, which was ultimately cancelled after 7-8 hours due to severe and unsafe weather.  Here’s the Southern Californian’s report about Chimera, which was his first 100 mile start.

Ever wonder, like I did, why there are not more 100 mile ultra marathons scheduled, even in a “warm” state like California, in the month of December?

Wonder no further. Just look to the running of the 2009 Chimera 100K and 100 mile races, which started and ended (for everyone) this past Saturday, December 12^th at Bluejay campground in the Cleveland National Forest, between San Juan Capistrano and Lake Elsinore, CA.

The Chimera 100 website states that, “The Chimera is a beast from Greek mythology.  According to Homer it is part goat, part lion, and part serpent.   The question remains, which is the Chimera - the ultra-runner or the mountain?”

This year, unfortunately, the Chimera was neither the ultra runner nor the mountain, but the weather.

Is This Southern California?

After the runners were out for about 7 hours, the Forest Service and Race Director, in conjunction, cancelled the race due to the worsening weather conditions on the course.

Runners had experienced extreme wind, cold and rain on certain sections, and an even stronger and colder storm was predicted for the late afternoon and evening, with snow levels dropping to 5,000 feet (500-700 feet below two of the peaks that 100 mile runners would have to run up to three more times during the afternoon, night and/or following morning).

However disappointing, it was the right call to make. Some runners, who had made it past the 28.5 mile Maple Springs aid station before the race was called, were able to run all the way to the Silverado aid station at approximately mile 38.2.

Brandon Adame made it there a few minutes before me.  I made it there, along with Flaco Mendoza a few yards behind, in 8 hours flat.  I thought that was alright, given I was also carrying a few extra pounds of water in my thoroughly drenched “Gore-Tex” Montrail shoes, “Dry-Max” (right!) socks, and my “rain proof” Columbia jacket/shell and hat, and “rainproof” Red Ledge pants.  The Columbia rainproof hat was actually pretty good! J

What I enjoyed and appreciated most about this year’s race, besides my excellent crew of Cheryl Zwarkowski, and Jose Hernandez (who would have been my pacer had I gotten to mile 62) were the absolutely kind and giving volunteers at the start/finish, and all the aid stations we arrived at in between, and the stretches of the race I ran with other runners.

Miles 1 through 21 with 20 year old Cavin Miller, living in Southern California going to school, but originally from Cool, CA, or another similar town, that I forget the name of, that borders the Western States 100 mile course.

We’d met and ran together on a training run 5-6 weeks before, with Cavin just carrying one water bottle the 26 miles from Bluejay to Santiago Peak and back (there was a water drop that he would use at miles 5 and 21), and me planning on running 40 that day, carrying a full, 3 liter Camelback, two 22 oz. hand helds, and two more full in the back of my Camelback.

Miles 9 through 34, with Brandon Adame, who’d beaten me by 34 minutes in August’s Mt. Disappointment race, and in other races this year as well, and who I had hopes of finishing ahead of in this race as a good measure of my improvement.  By race time, due to the impending weather, I had decided I didn’t care if I placed ahead of or behind Brandon, or anyone for that matter.  I wanted to run a good race and hoped that I, and all runners, reached the finish line safely.

Looking Good

When Brandon caught up with me at mile 9 (he’d passed me at mile 3-4, but was one of several runners who took a wrong turn at a confusing junction on the 9 mile loop at the beginning of the race) we had the greatest time, just marveling at the weather, and talking about our racing in the past year, and talking about what was upcoming on the course in this particular race. By mile 23, it seemed to me that Brandon would again be stronger than me on this day.

At each downhill he pulled away 100-300 yards, only for me to catch up again on the next uphill, because he was removing a small rock from his shoe or taking a “restroom” stop, or he just was taking it easy and running conservatively early in the race.

By mile 34, just before we got to the turnoff for the 3.2 mile, rocky,  single track to Silverado Canyon (mile 38.2), Brandon had pulled ahead of me,. probably for good, because my quads were already starting to not feel so good.

Brandon called me the next morning to ask how I was feeling. He said he was going to go on a 10 mile run. I told him the only places I was walking to on Sunday would be my couch to maybe catch part of a football game with my four and a half year old son, Benji, or to my backyard, to secure a flowering pear tree I had recently planted that had almost been ripped away by the wind from the latest storm. I live two hours north of the Chimera.

Miles 14 through 38.2 with Adalberto “Flaco” Mendoza, who had given his time all late spring and summer, running, and sharing his advice, with me and my friend Jose Hernandez, on all sections of the AC100 course.

Jose, Anibal Corsi, Carlos (Flaco’s usual pacer, and close friend, for 100 mile races), and I, had special, long sleeved shirts made for us to wear during the 2009 AC100 that read “Team Flaco Mendoza”, out of respect for Flaco and all of the time he had given to us during the year, and also because the AC100 RDs had unceremoniously, but legally, sent back his check, which was truly in the mail on the very day that the AC RDs had closed the race on June 1^st and allowed no further entry.

Even when Ben Hian and others dropped out of the AC100 for various reasons, the AC RDs would not let Flaco (a previous 2^nd place finisher at AC, and I think even a 2^nd place finisher one year at Badwater) into the race.

That is when we decided to make and wear the shirts. We would have Flaco in the AC100; we would be running for him!

The 2009 AC100, as you know, was eventually cancelled, so I would be wearing my “Team Flaco Mendoza” shirt over an Underarmour “coldgear” one, and under a rainproof shell for the Chimera 100 mile.

Before the race, Jose told me that Flaco had injured his foot on a night run two weeks before, but if that was the case, it sure didn’t seem like it in this race.

Flaco caught up with Brandon and me at the Trabuco Trailhead aid station, (about mile 14?) wearing only shorts, shoes and a long sleeve shirt, under a very wet and whirling Hefty trash bag.

“Hace muy frio, Roberto!” he said. (It is very cold). “La lluvia y el viento, no son muy simpaticos, tambien.” (And the rain and wind are not very nice either.)

“No, no they are not, Flaco.  Flaco! You do not have a waterproof rain jacket?”

“No, no, mi amigo. Solamente tengo este.”  (I only have this, he said, looking down at his less than reliable Hefty bag poncho).

“Well, if you need one, I have an extra in my drop bag at Maple Springs at mile 29.  I’ll tell them to give it to you.”

“No, no mi amigo. Hace frio, pero esta bien.”

“OK, but if you change your mind, Flaco, the jacket is yours!”

From mile 14 through 34, Flaco shadowed Brandon and me, never farther than 100 or so yards behind.  Each time Brandon and I would quicken our pace for a stretch, and look back, expecting to have dropped the 58 year old Flaco Mendoza behind, there he was, with his Hefty bag poncho, whirling above his waist, in the wind, cold and wet, undefeatable, tireless, like the great ultra runner that he is, injured or not.

My greatest honor was to be running down what would be the last 3.2 miles of this race, down the Silverado trial, with Flaco, only 40-50 yards behind.  As my quads felt a little “less than happy” going down this trail, and I thought that Flaco surely could pass me if he wanted to, the thought did cross my mind that maybe Flaco was just staying behind me to make sure I was OK. He had run many 100s before, but this was my first one.

“Bien hecho (good job!), Flaco. Bien hecho!” I told him.

“Bien hecho a usted, tambien, Roberto. Bien hecho,  Muchisimas gracias!

So humble, this man.

When we got to the Silverado aid station I was ready to tell my great crew, Cheryl, that it was no question, I would be changing into a new pair of socks and another pair of shoes. Please get the foot powder out.  Even if my feet can only be dry for an hour or so while running from Silverado back to Maple Springs at mile 45.4, I’ll take it. I’m changing my shoes and socks at mile 62 as well.

“But where is the chair?” I asked Cheryl.

“Robert, I have some unfavorable news.  Due to weather and an even stronger approaching storm, the race is cancelled.”

Trabuco AS Blown Up

Forty-eight hours after the race, my two and a half year old daughter, Shana, still beats me in a footrace from the fireplace in our living room to where our kitchen begins.  We held a second heat and, in what gives new meaning to the nefarious term “two time loser” Shana beats me again.

“But I still have a faster first step!” I brag to my wife.  She shouts back that it’s because I was the one who said “ready, set, go” and I left out the “set” part, but please, please, believe me, that’s not true.  Well…it kind of is.

I awaken this morning at 3AM (still on race day schedule I guess).

I walk down, and up, the stairs without much of the soreness that accompanies those trips in the previous 2 days.  I eat my standard Cool Mint Chocolate Clif Bar, a banana with a glass of water, and those “Juice Plus” pills my wife had me start taking late last year.

“Yeah,” I think to myself smugly, “I’m feelin’ pretty good.”

I have grand hopes of not getting “chicked” again today, and being able to beat my two and a half year old daughter in a race…at least…to the front door.