while you wait for a post of some substance. These folks, Pentatonix, are a family favorite. They also have a new Christmas album coming out any day now. After this song is done, take a listen to Little Drummer Boy or Carol of the Bells. They'll blow you away.
I just let the dog out to fetch the paper. We don't get newspaper delivery anymore and why he fetches the paper is a story for another time.
The day dawned clear and bright, with just about perfect temperatures to go play on a trail someplace. A bunch await discovery and a photo log by me.
But instead, I'm going to go to work. Being self-employed I can say this with a fair degree of assurance; the boss sometimes is a jerk. He's got me working seven days this week, and long days at that.
It's putting the kibosh on my running and my writing, and I would whine more except it also finances both. Still, the inner dude wants to play and is feeling pouty.
While on the flight to Seattle yesterday and back, I had a chance to finish Hal Koerner's Field Guide to Ultrarunning.
Competently written with the assistance of Adam Chase, the guide is well organized from preparation to gear, from training to racing. For those looking for an exciting read into the world of trail ultras, this book will disappoint. At no point does it wax poetic about the trails. Instead, Koerner focused on getting you there, and safely, so you can do the poetic bit yourself. Also, the less romantic bits like eating on the run, handling mud, and where to pee.
One thing that might be misleading to some - this guide is exclusively oriented to trail unltrarunning. Wait, that's not right. It's exclusively oriented to trail racing.
It does not include any ultra road races or 12/24/48 hour events and the unique challenges they pose. If you are intending to try one of those events, you'll need to seek some advice outside the scope of the Field Guide to Ultrarunning.
The book is geared towards ultra-racing more than simply ultrarunning but the principles remain. The cool part about ultrarunning is you really don't need permission or a race entry to go someplace awesome to run. If you've built out the body to handle it and learned how to handle the trails, you have all you need to do an ultra-run, even if you never do an ultra-race.
One pleasant element of the book was Koerner's willingness to use his mistakes as object lessons for the rest of us to learn from. I've maintained that the guy or woman who wins the race isn't always the best runner but the one who makes the least mistakes.
That's how I beat the great Karl Meltzer once and no, it will never happen again.
Anyway, using the real life examples, Koerner does a nice job of showing the results of bad decision-making and, sometimes, just plain bad luck. He offers good advice on how to handle it. When you get to that part of the book, listen. It may save your ultrarunning career.
If you're a marathoner looking to move up, this is a book that should land on your book shelf and be referred to frequently. If you never conceive of doing anything so foolish as an ultra, it's probably not for you.
If you're on the fence, though, get the book. Hal Koerner will lead you through the process, show you it's achievable, and put the tools in your hand to get there.
Once you have the tools, it's up to you to go out and find the poetry on the trail.
We took the kids out yesterday on a recovery run after Wednesday's race and someone thought it would be un to play on the verge of land between the 1st Street houses and the river. We didn't do much of a warm-up, just some light stretching mixed with intermittent shrieking when a largish spider was noted by one of the girls. She didn't do the shrieking - Carmen did. Meanwhile, the boys harassed the spider up the tree. Natch.
We also had flopping, sprinting for the beach, and all the signs that the kids needed to run. Like a puppy that just gets more energy the fitter it gets, the kids keep getting fitter and the extra energy needs an outlet. Running helps - except they get fitter still.
Anyway, we got the kids moving, me running toward the front and Coach Cowdrey keeping an eye on the back of the pack. Maia and Carmen started up a song while they ran while Sam reverted to ‘mountain bike’ mode, chasing up and down the little bumps and dirt mounds. Everyone else pretty much just ran easily.
When the lead group reached the osprey nest, I gave them a choice – keep going and we’d play on trails or head back and maybe do some drills.
Out we went.
I had already planned to pick up the trails out in the bird sanctuary. At the beginning of the season, I only had two girls ready to handle the extra mileage. On this run, eight of the kids made it. They looked a little stunned when I mentioned to them that we had reached our original turn-around point from the second day of practice and we had plenty more time to play.
We crosses the ditch the Corps of Engineers dug, I guess to help salmon, walking across the large watermelon-sized river rock. Once on the other side, I led them out, dodging around the scrub trees, under limbs, between saplings.
They kids loved it. “It’s real trailrunning!” came drifting up. We came out of the small wooded section into the sunlight and ran for a few more minutes before it was time to head back. None of the kids wanted to turn back for the school, a clear sign that the run was a success.
There were some adventures. Coach Cowdrey and the group behind me found a rattlesnake. Wisely, no one poked at it. Still, Coach Cowdrey had them turning a little early and then went to join up with us. To avoid the snake, we came back along the alleys. I had the group that wore down and we walked back in – the kids discovered that trailrunning is a little tougher on the legs and got tuckered out a bit faster.
All in all, we arrived at the school two minutes late, a bit dusty, a bit sweaty, and happy.
I was at the Pomeroy meet for District 9 yesterday. I have a couple of posts over at InlandXC.
Also, I am back to working seven days a week for the foreseeable future. Blogging may get light. Never fear, I'll find something to put up. Might be cat pictures, though. Or interesting (to me) links.
Like this one from Laura Fleshman - Do I Look Like a Man?
Short answer - No.
Longer answer - Heck no.
Go read it and form your own opinion.
Figured out what I needed for the novel. Anger, lots of it. Used to be addicted to the stuff, beat it once. Potent as hell, and hard as hell to control.
So can I run and write this novel at the same time? Running puts me in a happy place.
I dunno.
I toured Eagle Creek Park Sunday, I took off from here. The little paved trail on the left is the Blue Trail, 4.0 miles. Paved? Dirt?
Dirt, definitely dirt.
I took an hour and a half, doing a run/walk around the Red Loop (see the little sign?) which runs the perimeter of the park. Total length is about 6.75 miles per the guide.
The first hints of the fall season, glimpsed across the lake.
There is a causeway that leads out to a bird sanctuary. Photographers set up cameras to take pictures of the wildlife. In the meantime, I watched a pair of cardinals playing in the brush. I think it's been twenty years or more since I've seen cardinals.
For those that live around me in the Lewis-Clark Valley, the green surprises and delights.
I have a knack for finding single track. Usually, it happens by accident and involves missing turns. I call this creative navigation. Others call it getting lost. Either way, it's Bonus! miles.
No classes today, so in the time between checking out and heading for the airport, I went and played at Eagle Creek Park about 15 miles outside of Indianapolis.
No exploration would be complete without the random discovery or two. About four miles into the run/walk, I found that cool little thing that moves a run from pleasant to darned memorable. Since there’s a road into the same spot, I think you could skip the running portion, if you were so inclined.
I cleared a parking lot, ducked back into the woods and found a group of people Going Ape. Go Ape is a company that offers the daring (and the wannabe daring) a chance to run a zipline, walk a rope bridge (where were they when I was writing Trail?), and climb through a tunnel in the sky. Very, very cool.
Safety first. Go Ape staff teach the customers how to strap in, clip on, and land safely.
In my usual bashful manner, I meandered over to a young man, Joe by name, who maintained a diligent observation on the people twenty feet above him, alternating encouraging comments, advice, and congratulations as the adventurers passed over head.
The staff at Go Ape starts everyone off with a safety course, but even that looked entertaining. They did a great job of prepping the folks while teaching them what they needed for safety – tying off, snapping on, and breathing. The last made me smile.
Joe, watching the ascent. The person in the picture crossed a zipline,, completed a second into the net, and then climbed tot he platform with the rope bridge.
Joe was at the first station, where the customers climb a tree and being their aerial antics. I wandered the venue, interrupting the run, for about ten minutes.
According to Joe, his favorites are the ones that come in, well beyond their comfort level, but discover the gumption to tackle the ropes and lines and bridges anyway. Joe loved watching the confidence grow and the joy that these particular customers showed.
“I wish it could be free,” said Joe. I’m not sure that the company would agree but the prices didn’t seem too out of whack for what they offered.
Go Ape is expanding – they have seven locations right now, three in the Midwest, three in the Mid-Atlantic, and one lonely spot in Myrtle Beach – but they seem to be infilling the current country, not expanding west toward me.
Rats.
Tunnel to the left, a zip line, a bridge, and probably more that I don't recognize. There's a long zip line to the right out of the picture. One person that looked nervous at the start nearly jumped off on the last zip line. What a hoot!
One grandson, Jeffrey, is ready right now and would have an absolute blast. I’m not too sure that Marie would buy in, but I think that Kaylyn and Emma would shriek at the chance when they get a smidge bigger. The others need a little growth before we figure that out.
Still, a cool thing to watch and made the run. The park is beautiful (I’ll post some pictures and an article tomorrow sometime) and the weather perfect for a hike, but watching the joy on the faces of everyone pushing a boundary or two made it quite the excellent little hike.
Well, heck, that went entirely too fast, though I think my brain is now in total overload.
Spending sixteen hours with one of the best selling authors in America - Dave Farland aka Dave Wolverton - while he goes over the ins and outs of writing and publishing is like a brief visit to the Olympic Training Center for athletes. A nice taste of what might be, but only if I put in the time, effort, and energy.
I took pages and pages of notes that I'll have to organize and review, then get it locked in.
In the meantime, I need to figure out dinner.
Last night, I found a small Greek restaurant, family run and warm, filled with friends. I'm not sure I want to work that hard to find another restaurant, so I might resort to whatever I can walk to.
The Greek restaurant is going to make an appearance in a book someday. If you come across a line about the kind of place where you lose daughters to the smiling waiters with ridiculous good looks, that'll be the place.
Me, I got lost in the lamb cutlets, red wine, and a great conversation with one of the other patrons.
I'm in Indianapolis for a writing seminar for the next couple of days, and, since I hate to visit places without learning a thing or two, I perused the catalog inside the hotel room (Hampton Inn, btw, and nice) for local attractions.
Among them, the Benjamin Harrison home, the Statehouse, assorted sports venues, the Speedway, the National Track and Field Hall of Fame Museum . . .
Huh?
I thought the T&F museum was in The Armory in New York City. Fast interest search confirmed it. It was moved from Indy to New York in 2002.
So, now I have a mystery to solve.
Goodie.
If you were interested in my book Finishing Kick, I'm offering a giveaway at Goodreads. If I set it up right, you should be able to click the Enter to Win button.
Giveaway ends October 07, 2014.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.
And tell your friends too, please. Thanks! Paul Duffau
Headed out to Troy yesterday to visit with grandkids, but took an hour off to run the Troy Rail Trail. I've run the length of it from Troy to Kendrick once each way. About eight or nine miles is on private land (I have permission from the owners) and I'll put that stretch up the next time I run it - probably next summer.
This jaunt was just to the chainlink gate about three miles down the trail. The chainlink is new; I think the old rusted barbed wire didn't suffice anymore beaten nearly flat and easy to step over.
Early part of the trail, just past the gate at the trailhead.
Driving directions: follow Highway 8 east from Moscow to Troy. Pass through Troy, go past the turn-off for Highway 99, and continue another 200 yards or so to the next right hand turn. Turn in there. You'll see the water treatment plant there. That is the trail head. Parking is limited.
The powers that be paved the first bit of trail but the gravel picks up just before the gate. If you were to head back to Moscow, you could do the entirety of it on pavement. I suspect that eventually, if the disputes with the private owners can be smoothed over, they'll pave all the way to Kendrick. Nothing says communing with nature like an asphalt trail through the woods.
The trail is slightly downhill the whole way out and there is no hill, not even a hint of one. From the open meadow were the trail starts, to the gate, the I enjoyed smooth sailing. I did have to switch from side to side occasionally on the trail to stay out of the deeper gravel. Once clear of the meadow, I followed next to the creek as it wound its way to Kendrick and the Little Palouse River.
The steel bones of the old trestles over the creek still stand but the wood rotted way long ago. On this stretch, concrete, cold and gray, overlays the surface of the trestles, a modern interruption into a trail good for reminiscing. Between trestles, it's easy to let the mind wander and the eyes to drift to the sides, picturing the hillsides of the creek
I took a time out to walk out on a fallen tree so I could take a picture of the creek as it quietly burbled past. The bark was slick with morning dew and mosses. The banks of the waterway were overgrown with grasses on the east bank and shaded by trees on the west.
About two miles down trail, a wild apple tree grows at the verge on the east side, fruit well formed, and turning red. I've run this trails a half dozen times before but never that this time of year. Fresh, ripe apples are a pleasant surprise. There was another tree, closer to the trailhead but the fruit looked small and hard. Since I'm making a return trip this way, I decided I'd snag an apple on the way back.
Tuned back into the easy lope that carries me out to the turnaround, I note another pair of producing fruit trees. It's easy to imagine an engineer standing in the locomotive, finishing the apple from his meager lunch - a hard boiled egg, maybe, with a hard biscuit. A bit of cheese if he was lucky. The coffee would be hot and black. Done with the apple, he'd fling it out the window.
And some of those thrown away cores took root and grew.
A half mile from the turnaround, I met three ladies out hiking, then another three, and, at the turn, a group of seven waiting for their friends. A baker's dozen ladies, all into their fifties and most well beyond, out for a six or seven mile hike. Very cool ladies and we chatted and shared a laugh, a small joke at my expense, before I turned back.
All the downhill becomes uphill obviously. The grade is not steep but the change in effort is noticeable. The change in direction altered the perspective in lighting. It helped with the pictures, limiting some of the washing out of colors.
The sun started to heat the air. When I rolled out at the top, temps hovered in the mid-forties. By the time I reached the halfway point, it was into the mid-fifties. Now I built a good sweat though I kept the pace down.
As planned, I stopped at the apple tree. Windfall apples scattered across the trail, and I noticed a branch broken that I hadn't before. An impatient bear had broken a branch, not waiting for the normal release. She gorged and then marked the location as hers. I didn't think that she would miss a singleton apple, so I found one that looked tasty.
I didn't want to eat it and try to run, so I carried it in one hand and the camera in the other.
The only excitement arrived with a loud crack as something quite large moved in the woods next to me. I stopped to search for the animal that broke the limb. Nothing, but given I knew a bear lived nearby, kept scanning while I walked.
My best guess would be white-tail deer as my experience with bears has always involved much cracking of branches and deadfall, not a single large crack. Bears appear disinclined to dodge things. Likewise, moose tend to go through rather than around. It may have been an elk as I saw signs of them. In the end, it was something big and mysterious, a reminder that trailrunners should stay alert.
Round-trip was a smidge over an hour but I wasn't hustling and I didn't stop my watch when I took pictures.
I'll try to get the whole trail done next year as I mentioned and I'll GPS it as well.
Until then, run gently.
Ps. The apple tasted delicious, a bit of sweet and a touch of tart with very crisp flesh.
Lincoln Middle School, in Clarkston, held their annual Lancer Invite for cross country yesterday. Without the high schools, the atmosphere was a little more relaxed and the officials a touch less formal.
The other thing missing - no individual awards, ribbons, etc. Several of the coaches commented on it, and favorably. I know that we've been working with our kids to divorce the running from the racing, and the racing from the results. We've gone so far as to ban watches on athletes during the race. They can get their times later.
I don't think the kids actually missed it. They knew how they did and where they placed. When they weren't racing, they were cheering, not just for their own teams. Heck, most of the coaches were cheering for everybody, in between coaching their own kids as they went by.
Middle school is a terrific age to work with - there's enthusiasm and hope. Most of these kids don't care at this point if they're really fast or not. They have friends on the team, and they're doing this cross country thing together.
They may not even admit that they like it, but judging by smiles afterwards, they do.
I'm a big fan of competition and most of the kids are, too. But I'm not a fan of awards. The medal or ribbon changes the emphasis from competing to see who's best to doing well enough to earn some bling. It devalues the effort of the less physically gifted kids who work just as hard, and leaves the gifted kids with the idea that not gaining a medal is a form of disgrace. The awards value the result, not the race.
