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Events:Stone Cat 50 Mile Trail Race November 6, 2010 Middlesex Fells Trail Race December 4, 2010 AMC Mountaineering Committee Ice Program Winter 2011 AMC Mountaineering Committee Rock Program Spring 2011 Pictures:AlbumRunning Data:20102009 2008 |
Mon, 30 May 2011I've had a couple of spectacular weekends recently. Kevin Pilgrim is the closest friend I have ever had. We met when we were about seven, maybe younger. Between the ages of 12 and 18 we were practically inseparable. We spent the summer after our senior year in high school traveling in Europe and Morocco visiting faimly and many places without family. In 1989 I was released from Syrian police custody, having overstayed my visa, only after pleading that I was to be best man at Kevin's wedding in rural Indiana three days later. I arrived at 4 am and was fitted for a rented tuxedo the day of the wedding. Returning to Berkeley, California, I lived Harry Potter-like in Kevin and his new wife Jane's front closet for a couple of months while he was a PhD student. On my own wedding night 19 years ago Kevin drank a bit too much, and I helped him walk it off through the streets of Somerville, Massachusetts. We have kept intermittently in touch, but have not seen each other since then. Kevin came to Cambridge two weeks ago for a conference at the Clay Institute. I picked him up Saturday morning and he accompanied us to Connie's volunteer job in Wellesley and riding lesson in Derry, New Hampshire. I wont dwell on details, but it was a classic experience. There are some people in everone's life from whom you can be absent for decades but are as if they had always been right beside you when you see them again. Sorry that sentence sucked so badly. Read it over a few times. I'm sure it will make sense. Last Sunday I resolved to go for a run. This was non-trivial. Several months ago I auspiciously ended the off season with a 17-mile run. That went so well that I tried to extend it to 20 miles on March 26. At about mile 7 my Illiotibial Bands on both sides began to give me some pain. I ended up walking the 7 miles home from mile 9. To make matters worse, the temperatures were below freezing, and since I was on the beach there was a stiff coastal breeze. When I got home I found my left thumb was white and wooden. I had managed to avoid frostbite though a season of ice climbing in New Hampshire only to get it at home in the Spring. I ran very little in the early Spring nursing my IT bands. There were a couple of beautiful foggy pre-dawn mornings but very little else until the Seven Sisters Trail Race last month. That race was brutally difficult and I ended with a pace that was slower than a careless walk over even ground. My legs hurt for days. View Bike-Run-Bike, May 22, 2011 in a larger map Last weekend, however, I felt great. Connie had a dress rehearsal for her dance recital, so I drove her and Carol there with my bike on the back of the car. The bike is now fully functional except for brakes. I rode to the Sheepfold enterance of the Middlesex Fells. The work I did on the bike over the winter has really paid off. The hubs have been cleaned and regreased and the bearings replaced. I replaced all spokes and trued the wheels to better than I have previously seen them. The rear one is still questionable. I have also replaced the chain and cassette. All of this decreased friction appears to have resulted in about a 50% improvement in speed for a given effort. I dropped the bike at Sheepforld and began running the Skyline Trail. Since I was well warmed up from the ride, I may have started out too fast. I finished the first loop much faster than usual for a multiloop run of Skyline. My left IT band was beginning to ache but not badly so I started out for a milder second loop. The ache got worse and I developed an occasional sharp pain on the lateral side of my right knee. I decided to switch to the less rugged and shorter Reservor Trail and slowed to a brisk walk. I made it back to the bike after running and walking about 14 miles. Since riding required a bent knee, it didn't aggravate the IT bands, and I made the six mile trip home without incident. Carol and Connie filled my Memorial Day/Birthday weekend with climbing, cooking, wine, and dinner out while I tossed in an hour of hill repeats. Soon every day will be a holiday. Sat, 14 May 2011
My problem is that I like to climb even when I haven't bothered to find a partner or bring a crash pad for bouldering. When I climb without protection, I'm no great soloist deliberately attempting a climb well within my ablities with determination and focus; I'm a gumby out of his depth. That's what I was today. Connie went, as usual on Saturday mornings, to her volunteer job at Bina Farm, a therapeutic riding program for kids with disabilities. The program operates on Saturdays at the Dana Hall School in Wellesley. This is very conveniently located for me to climb at Hammond Pond in Newton until my forearms fail. Today I tried to complete the 5.7 No Reverse Traverse of the Lower Wall. This route consists of a nice horizontal crack that moves gradually up the Lower Wall and descends again at the other end. After falling twice under relatively safe conditions, I climbed back up to the horizontal crack and kept going. While attempting to rest in a lieback of a big vertical crack, my legs began to shake, and my forearms warned of imminent disaster. Unhappy with the height I tried to downclimb the crack, slipped off, and fell about 8 feet to the ground. Luckily no harm was done, but I expect next time I show up at Hammond Pond I'll have a crash pad or a partner to belay, spot, or call 911. Sat, 09 Apr 2011Having realized mid-winter that the therapeutic riding program Connie assists is a short drive from the crags at Hammond Pond, I decided to get some Spring climbing in there. I've only climbed at Hammond a couple of times. The rock is puddingstone, the state rock of Massachusetts. This is basically a sedimentary rock loaded with round pebbles resembling the fruit in a Christmas pudding. At Hammond Pond, behind the Mall at Chestnut Hill, it fractures forming steep (but not really vertical faces) and cracks that range in width from body width to too small to jamb fingers into. In some places the pebbles stick out of the rock or have fallen out leaving pebble-shaped voids. Both of these make excellent hand and footholds. I have found the grades at Hammond to be severely sandbagged. In climber usage, 'to sandbag' is to do anything that misleads others into a false sence of ease or security. At Hammond I have fallen off of routes graded at 5.1. Granted I am not one of the world's great climbers, and I'm definitely new to puddingstone, but a 5.1 to my mind should be essentially stairs, steep stairs with no handrail to be sure, but stairs nonetheless. Technical expertise should not be an issue on 5.1; route-finding should be obvious to the neophyte; on 5.1 it shouldn't matter that your climbing shoes are the ones you bought as a rank beginner 5 years ago. Anyone with full use of arms and legs should be able to successfully climb 5.1. I fell on 5.1 last time I was here, banging my tailbone into a tree trunk no less. This is why I approached the No Reverse Traverse (5.7) with some trepidation. This route is long enough to provide a good workout and technical enough to learn some new technique on. At the same time it stays close to the ground. A traverse is a sideways climb rather than a vertical one. The top of the arc of the No Reverse Traverse is about 15-20 feet above the ground as it crosses the entire 80 feet or so of Hammond Pond's Lower Wall. I felt comfortable climbing this without harness, rope, belayer, or crash pad. After warming up on three of the easiest routes in the bouldering area called the Alcove uphill from the Lower Wall, I got started at the far right side of the traverse. I was able to climb about 25 feet to the left and slightly upward until I reached Hidden Magic (5.7). I was crossing hands in a horizontal hand crack and stepping through with my feet occasionally stretching to reach vertical cracks to jamb toes into. I ran out of footholds near Hidden Magic and relied on handholds. Whenever this happens to me I'm rarely far from falling. I got myself into a relatively safe position and slid face-in down the rock. After a short break I tried the left end which is separated from the main crag by a giant crack called Old Tree (5.2). I climbed about 15 feet up this crack stopping at a spot where I could shove my whole body into the crack. I grabbed onto very good holds to the left and swung my body out onto the face reaching for toeholds below. Just then my phone rang. Since I was out here in order to give Connie a ride to Wellesley I had to respond relatively soon. I found a solid rest and listened to the voicemail. After consulting with Carol briefly about dinner I was able to continue to the left and down to the bottom of the crag. All that was left was the middle. Of that section, the left part looked easier but higher up. The consequences of a fall might include failing to pick Connie up on time and a trip to the hospital, but failure seemed less likely. The right hand part looked tougher, but since it was lower I was confident that I could survive a slide down the rock without medical attention. I climbed up a pair of cracks on the middle right with left hand and foot in Free and Easy (5.4) and right hand and foot in Flutterby (5.6) until I reached the horizontal hand crack. I was able to move out across the face where I had previously fallen to the other side of Hidden Magic. I was able to downclimb this time rather than sliding down the face. In an effort to try the higher easy-seeming section to the left, I began to set up a rappel above that section of the face. My plan, which later succumbed to better judgment, was to rappel down to the hand crack; wrap the rappel brake lines around my leg (I had neglected to bring a sling to make a rappel back-up); and complete the traverse while on rappel. I figured a fall would result only in a pendulum rather than a plummet. Of course a fall could also result in the brake lines unwrapping from my leg and... Temporarily giving up on the Lower Wall I turned to the Upper Wall. Here I climbed the 5.1 I had previousy fallen on. About 10 feet up I was out of obvious holds (5.1, my ass) that were not covered with moss. I recalled Connie studying for a recent AP Biology test. Mosses are unable to transport water well and, like humans, have flagelated sperm and therefore need a moist environment to reproduce. These combine to restrict moss to damper areas. I momentarily considerd stepping on the mosses. I felt bad for them both for their small stature and their romantic difficulties. Given the likely dampness of the mossy environment, a note of self-preservation also entered into the decision not to use the mossy holds. I stepped high onto a waist-level hold and mantled to the top of the climb. It's always good to climb something you have previously fallen on. I ended the outing by joining a New England Orienteering Club meet that had a start and finish line very near the Lower Wall. I had brought very worn out running shoes for the approach to the crag and ran the course in these, at least until I failed to find the 7th control and bailed on the whole thing in order to pick up Connie on time. It felt like our first real Spring weekend day, and the rest of the season promises to be full of puddingstone sadbags. Mon, 17 Jan 2011
Cross-Country Skiing with Connie
Connie and I headed out at 9 this Martin Luther King, Jr. day for a morning of cross-country skiing. Having not cross-country skied for a couple of years, it took a while to get comfortable again with the diagonal stride, but it more or less came back. We took a liesurely 2 hours to explore the groomed track. View Weston Ski Track with Connie, January 17, 2011 in a larger map Wed, 12 Jan 2011
Ice Program Leaders Weekend - My First Ice Lead!
A couple of months ago I volunteered to serve as an assistant in this year's AMC Boston Chapter Mountaineering Committee's Ice Climbing Program. So far, in that capacity, I went to the two introductory lectures for incoming students and helped test them for basic belaying ability. That's been a chance to meet or reconnect with other climbers including Aaron and Kristian who, like me were students in the same program in earlier years. This past weekend was the Ice Program Leaders Weekend, an opportunity for ice climbers involved in the program to get together in the White Mountains and climb in a relaxed and social atmosphere before the actual teaching weekends. It was important for me to leave the car at home for my wife and daghter, so Aaron and Kristian let me join them for the ride up, and more generously, for two days of climbing. We left Cambridge at 6 pm on Friday and had dinner at the Moat in North Conway. Gotta love a smokehouse and brewery that serves a homemade vegan buger. Unfortunately, the lack of snow up there is hurting everyone's business. Over dinner we discussed climbing options for the next day and settled on the famously beautiful Pinnacle Gully in Mount Washington's Huntington Ravine. View Pinnacle Gully Climb, January 8, 2011 in a larger map When we arrived at the Harvard Cabin we met up with Sara, who we knew from the Ice Program two years ago and an earlier avalanche rescue class. Sara ran the Chicago Marathon this year in 3:20 and is planning to run Boston and her first ultra this season. I avoided the freezing cold sleeping loft and slept on the dining table downstairs in front of the stove. I don't envy the skiers who had to listen to me snore all night and then deal with Aaron, Kristian, Sara, and I packing up for an alpine start Saturday morning at 5:30. Sara was heading to the Harvard High Cabin to meet up with other friends of ours: Rich, and Marcia. Rich is the caretaker this winter for the High Cabin, and his girlfriend, Marcia was an assistant in the Ice Program two years ago. Aaron, Kristian, Sara, and I ate a huge breakfast at the Pinkham Notch Visitors' Center, signed in the climbers register and set a hard pace up the steep Tuckerman Ravine Trail. The trail was ice with a thin layer of snow and quite treacherous. Within minutes we were sweating and stripping off layers of clothing in the 20 degree cold. We eventually reached the turn for the Huntington Ravine Fire Road and the High Cabin. It was a huge pleasure to see Rich and Marcia again after two years. They were busy with a large group of French-speaking climbers who were staying there for a class in the bottom of the ravine, so after a quick round of greetings we added weatherproof outer layers and headed out for the ravine. What little snow there was in Huntingon Ravine was hardened by the wind, so there was not much post-holing, and I never bothered to put on gaiters. The steep hard snow made for a significant threat of long sliding falls, and I probably should have put on crampons long before I did. As we hiked higher up onto the fan, a field of talus boulders at the base of our climb, we reached a section of hard avalanche debris that was easier to walk on. Pinnacle Gully is famous as the most 'esthetic' climb in Huntington Ravine. It's not the hardest, longest, or most dangerous; it's the most beautiful. This is, of course, not to suggest that Pinnacle is without difficulty, distance, or danger, but these are not extreme. Pinnacle Gully is rated grade 3 ice for its steep first pitch. The second two are usually low angle snow. This weekend, in the relative lack of snow, unbeknownst to us the second two pitches were also ice and steeper than expected. We let a guide and his two clients climb ahead of us. With each stick of the guide's pick a small shower of tiny ice crystals sprinkled down on us. When the clients followed, their less precise placements dropped much larger ice chunks on us. More than once, I was grateful for the helmet I was wearing. 
Aaron was the only one of us with lead experience on ice, so he set off on the first pitch with me belaying. We were using two half ropes. The ice was great but fairly steep and sustained. After a few minutes we got the call that Aaron had set up an anchor and wanted to be taken off belay. I took him off, and he took up the excess rope. I climbed with Kristian right after. Aaron had placed more protection on my rope, so while I was removing ice screws, Kristian passed me. I arrived at a crowded belay, and we discussed next steps. We decided that Kristian would lead the next pitch. We retied into the ropes, and Kristian led away. Again, I followed first. On the second pitch we began to hear water running behind the ice. Kristian found a group of three fixed pitons which he used for protection, but avoided using them for the belay anchor. At Kristian's anchor, I was feeling strong, and we decided that I would lead the third pitch. All went well, but if I did it again, I would do a few things differently. First, I placed my first screw about 10 feet above the belay. That's fine, but given that a fall here might be 20 feet, I should have probably attached it with a screamer rather than a regular runner to reduce the potential force of a fall on the screw. I think I did a good job of keeping the two ropes from tangling. I did however use the entire rope. When Aaron called up to tell me that I had 10 meters left, I should have immediately found a place to build an anchor. Instead, I tried to reach a nice relatively flat snowfield above. There was not enough rope, and I ended up building the third belay at an incredibly awkward ice bulge. The ground there as not even flat, so I stood crouched on steep wet ice while I belayed Aaron and Kristian up 70 meters. My thigh muscles are still sore. Aaron and Kristian climbed past my anchor into the flatter snowfield above, belayed me up, and then we walked out of the gully to the Alpine Garden more or less together. By now it was early afternoon, and the sun was getting low over the summit cone. We had a snack (Homemade maple marzipan stays chewable at 20 degrees!), coiled the ropes, and began the long hike down. The Lion's Head Summer Trail had not yet been closed since the low amount of snow made for low avalanche danger, and we took it back to the Tucks Trail where we packed away the axes and crampons. This may have been a mistake; between us we probably slipped and fell 30 times on the hike down. It was dark again by the time we returned to the car. We had been hiking or climbing for 10 and a half hours, and were quite drained. We stopped long enough at the cabin to drop gear and get changed for the leaders' party. We grabbed beer and wine (BV Coastal Cabernet) at a local store and met up with the rest of our group. The party was great as always. Everyone had a recent tale of adventure to tell. I spent the greater part of my time there talking with Paul Dale, the former Chairman of the Mountaineering Committee and now head of the entire Boston Chapter of the AMC. By the time we left I was in no shape to want anything ambitious for the next day. We opted to sleep late: 7 am. 
The next morning we packed up, ate breakfast, and headed for the North Pillars at Cathedral Ledge. There were several nice grade 3 and 4 topropable climbs there right off the road. Many of the pillars had been climbed a great deal recently and were very pegged out. One even had a smear of blood down it with some drips at the bottom. We did try some routes that seemed still untouched. They were relatively thin but with solid very clear ice. Aaron, in particular, was up for climbing some icicles that seemed quite hollow in the back. We called it a day relatively early and headed home. It was a spectacular start to the season! Sun, 21 Nov 2010I've been trying to climb hard twice a week, and I'm actually showing some improvement. Yesterday was a face climbing revelation for me. By the end of two and a half hours of bouldering, I was mantling on holds that I would have had trouble even seeing a few weeks ago. It sometimes takes a surprise to recognize possibilities. I had chosen Bates Boulder, in part because at 15' high I felt comfortable that I could survive a fall from any point on the rock. In fact, I intentionally fell a few times from about 7 feet to get used to the feeling and to desensitize myself. Climbing a new route (for me) yesterday, I found myself 10' above the ground with no visible handholds above. My fingers rested on a pair of really iffy holds. My feet began to slip threatening a face-in slide down the wall of granite. I felt a moment of panic and then a surge of adrenaline. In an almost autonomic response, my fingers dug into the rock, and the holds that had seemed really insufficient a moment before were suddenly enough to stabilize me. I managed to scuttle my feet a little higher and topped out laughing with the nervous hysteria of someone who knows all too well that he has just avoided paying a high price for stupidity. I learned from the experience... not that I shouldn't be climbing this route, but that those invisible holds were actually really good if weighted from the right angle and with enough force. With a rope, harness, and belayer, it's easy to decide not to make the hard painful moves. When the choice is to pull on sharp holds with tender fingers or fall, one becomes surprisingly willing to sacrifice the fingertips. And this turns out to be not so bad, after all. I experimented with increasingly blank sections of the wall gradually declaring off-limits one positive hold and then another. I'm still no great climber, but I believe I learned a lot yesterday that I would never have seen if not for getting in over my depth. Mon, 15 Nov 2010
Multisport Extravaganza: Run, Bike, Climb.
With Carol at a meditation class all weekend at Kripalu in the Berkshires and Connie at a mandatory AP Biology class on Saturday, I found myself with hours on my own. I gathered together a pile of gear and drove out to Wellesley. I started by running the Wellesley Grand Tour. Since I managed to get lost on one of the sections of singletrack, the normal 10+ mile tour ended up being 12.11 miles. If this had been a race directed by Bogie Dumitrescu, I would have been charged extra. The run was great; I maintained a pace just a little slower than my normal half-marathon pace (9:00). I managed to drink all of the liter of maltodextrin fluid that I had in my hydration pack which was unfortunate, because I still had some time. 
Back at the car I wanted to minimize transition time, so I only stopped for 14 minutes. During this time I stretched, ate 100 grams of maple marzipan, grabbed a bag of chalk, and clipped my climbing shoes into the back of my hydration pack. I hopped on the bike and rode the 2 miles to Boulder Brook Reservation to climb. At Boulder Brook I headed for Bates Boulder and took a shot at Tutti Fruitti (5.7). Falling twice, I took a break to warm-up on routes I had already climbed. Slab Stick (5.9) and Mickey's Mantle (5.6) I now found easy. For the last few weeks, I have been trying to follow Dave MacLeod's advice. I have been trying to climb hard twice a week and have been falling often. This has translated to climbing at MetroRock once a week with Connie and bouldering once a week outdoors. This week, we had gone to MetroRock the night before my day in Wellesley. I had been working on a bouldering problem called 'Area 51.' One of the top handholds for my left hand was just out of reach. I lunged at it repeatedly and repeatedly fell. My arms were getting tired and I was resigned to coming back later. After an endurance exercise designed to exhaust my grip strength, I tried Area 51 one last time. This time I realized that if I hooked a lower hold with my left toes, locked off my right arm across my chest, and dropped my left knee using the left foot to pull my hip into the wall, I could reach the left handhold without lunging. I pulled on the hold and got my left foot high enough to reach the top of the climb with my right hand. It had been a revelation. The next day my arms were still tired. Now I was standing below Tutti Fruitt looking for holds. I had given up on Tutti Fruitti my last time here worried that I would run out of holds ten feet off the deck and fall badly. The lower holds were big and allowed me to hang off the rock. But I was concerned about what happened higher up. Then I saw a small hold for my left foot. I tried again, reached the left foothold, locked off my right arm across my chest, and dropped my left knee to pull my left hip into the rock and reach the next hold for my left hand. Using exactly the same sequence that I had used the night bfore on Area 51, I climbed through the problem on Tutti Fruitti and reached the top of Bates Boulder. I continued climbing at the reservation primarily on a rock called 'the Elephant.' The routes I had tried the previous week now seemed way too easy, and I focussed without success on the hollowed out vertical Southwest face of the rock. I'll be back. Another result of reading Dave MacLeod's book is that I continue climbing after minor skin injuries. The obvious result is that my hands are looking like I've used a disk sander on them. I have become a compulsive user of moisturizer. 
After all of this I still had time to shop for groceries and make dinner. Connie and I spent most of Sunday looking at potential new stables and riding instructors and at her riding lesson. It was a wonderful weekend. Sun, 14 Nov 2010OK, so I didn't really DNF at Stone Cat. After all, I finished the marathon. I, however, Did Not Finish the race I had set out to complete: the Stone Cat 50 Mile Trail Race. Perhaps, I should instead call this post "Stone Cat: Anatomy of a Dramatic Scaling back of Expectations in the Face of Physical and Psychological Exhaustion." That sounds better, doesn't it? My minimalist training strategy had served me well at Stone Cat last year and at the Vermont 100 over the summer. How was this race diferent? First, the minimalist plan was based on the idea that we get stronger by recovering from training, not by training. This recovery requires lots of sleep and good nutrition. I have not been getting enough sleep since school started in August. The day before the race Breakheart Dan wisely declined my suggestion that I ride up to Ipswich in the bed of his truck. Still in need of a ride as evening descended, I began to seriously consider riding the bike up to Ipswich. This would entail a 25 mile ride in the dark and cold in order to make a 6:15 start time for a 50 mile race. I avoided thinking about the trip home. In a fit of desperation, I contacted Kevin, the one member of our little group who did not have a car. Fortunately, he had a Zipcar for the day and would be happy to pick me up. He was opting for the alpine start though, and wanted to be out of Chelsea by 4 or 4:15 am. So as evening came, I was set except for packing which I took care of along with helping get my family ready for a day without me. I wanted to get to bed early, but as bedtime approached I found myself in a unsettling personal conversation that left me reeling. I wont go into the details here, as I use this journal to reflect mostly on outdoor activties, for details see my Psychological Meltdown Journal. I had the phone out twice to call Kevin and cancel. Twice I put it away. Instead I stayed awake drinking wine until midnight. When I went to bed I set the alarm for 3. When it rang, I was still staggering. I ate a huge breakfast and got ready for Kevin. He picked me up on time, and the ride to Ipswich was uneventful except for a road closure that required us to detour. So this is how I came to arrive a the starting line for a 50 mile race exhasted and hung over. Seeing Kevin, Emily, Dan, Steve, Chris, Christine, Bill, and a collection of new running friends lifted my sprits a great deal. The race started 15 minutes late to accommodate people delayed by the road closure. So at 6:30 we were off. As usual there was an incredible bottleneck as the pack exited the soccer field for the trails. This soon thinned out on the first climb. The marathoners start by running an extra loop around the field to add 1.2 miles to the 25 miles accomplished in two loops of the main course. On the first climb, as the 50 mile runners slowed to conserve energy, the lead marathoners passed us. Looking back in the darkness at the part of the pack behind me, all I could see was a line of headlamps winding through the trees. I fell in with Bill Howard, who had crewed Kevin in Vermont and who had blessedly driven me to (and more importantly from) Vermont. For the next 25 miles I also periodically spoke with 'Steve' who had previously lived in North Conway and climbed ice in the winter. About 4 miles in (I believe this was before the aid station called Al Cat's Lounge) the trail passes over a causeway through a swamp. With all of the recent rain, the causeway was flooded. On the first loop, most runners tried to avoid the water, but this proved impossible, and most of us spent the day with wet feet. In the second loop everyone seemed to splash right down the center of the flood. As always, the aid stations were well-stocked with delicious food and friendly volunteers. One high-point came for me at Al Cat's when Kevin inquired about vegetarian options at the aid station while eating a handful of bacon. Toward the end of the first loop, Breakheart Dan, who was running the marathon, passed us. He has had IT Band problems for months, but he didn't let this stand in the way of a solid trail marathon finish. Shortly after leaving Al Cat's for the second time I was lapped by Ben Nephew who was on this third loop and on his way to setting a new course record for the 50 mile race. I was mostly alone for the second loop, and this contributed to an overall dissatisfaction with how the race was playing out. Ultrarunning, for me anyway, requires the mind to force the body to keep going in spite of pain, fatigue, hallucinations, and all kinds of other solid reasons to stop moving. At Stone Cat my mind was in no position to make this happen. Toward the end I ran into another runner, a strong marathoner who was running his first 50. Strangely, I found myself in the role of the experienced ultrarunner. He asked about the pain and feelings of despair. I told him that we all felt that way at some point in every race and that the trick was to just keep moving. I added that spending hours alone in the woods didn't always help. He seemed relieved and I moved on ahead. I was making pretty good time; I was on pace to again qualify for Western States, but felt like crap. My IT Band on the left side began to hurt, so I stretched a good deal and slowed. Toward the end of the second loop I managed to smile as Dave McDermott took my picture, but I was't feeing it. I came upon a bike safety patrol volunteer.
Volunteer: 'You're looking great.' At the end of the second loop I joined Seth Ambruso who had run the Umstead 100 with his girlfriend last April and proposed to her at the end. Together, Seth and I decided to drop to the marathon. Gil had us run one last 1.2 miles to complete the marathon. I hung around briefly with friends, and watched Emily, who has also been suffering from an injury, finish the marathon. I heard that like me, Julie dropped from the 50 to the marathon; at least I'm in good company. I've also heard that congratulations are in order for Bill Howard on finishing his first 50 mile race. See you in Vermont, Bill! Kevin and Steve, of course, also finished thier 50's. Christine, who was running her first 50 mile race, was the 5th place female finisher. Wonderful! I grabbed a ride home with Dan and arrived long before my family expected me. Sat, 30 Oct 2010
Commitment in the Face of Uncertainty
Mickey's Mantle is a short bouldering route on a piece of gneiss called Fairy Rock in Wellesley's Boulder Brook Reservation. Boston Rocks (p. 12) rates it a mere 5.6, and I was struggling with it. This is why I sat in the woods on a cool Saturday morning in October contemplating Teddy Roosevelt. Usually when climbers talk about committing climbs they mean some huge multi-pitch route from which there is no easy way to turn back, and rescue from which can be hours or days away. But even a measly 5 foot boulder problem can be committing. The guidebook description of Mickey's Mantle includes the line 'The landing is nasty.' And so it is: two rocks with sharp edges jut out of the dirt just below the main move. They provide high ground to push-off from, but they also threaten injury in a fall. The move requires the climber to jump hard in order to get their bodyweight high enough to extend an arm and mantle (step a foot onto the ledge where the hands are). Unfortunately, those menacing rocks were taking the energy out of my jump. By jumping more softly I could guarantee a safe landing. A harder jump would include no such guarantee. After halfheartedly pushing off and landing safely on those rocks way too many times, I listened to Teddy. After all there are worse things than a broken ankle. After an initial failed but serious attempt that mercifully spared my ankles, I managed to get myself above my left hand with my arm bent completely over at the elbow. Twisting to the side just enough to grind a layer of skin off of my left palm, I extended the arm and finally mantled. View Bouldering at Boulder Brook Reservation, October 30, 2010 in a larger map I do enough mechanical plodding throughout my day to appreciate the commitment to a doubtful outcome that climbing provides. It seems to me that this very same aspect, diving in without knowing the depth of the water, is part of what makes major transitions in life so exciting. Leaving home, quitting a job, falling in love, traveling, having children; all involve committing yourself to a course that could lead to exquisite joy or catastrophe. So this morning, after a 2.6 mile warm up run to the climbs, I bouldered for a few quiet hours in the woods in Wellesley. I got to try out some routes of my own invention on two boulders that are not in Boston Rocks: Rocky Ledges and the Elephant. I have even begun to give tentative names to some of my favorite routes on the Elephant: 'The Trunk,' which requires a dynamic lunge with the left hand to a hold that cannot be seen from below, and 'The Spine,' a short open-gripped traverse with smearing feet. I continued to work on the established routes on Fairy Rock, strangely managing the 5.9 balancy smear/edge no-hands-allowed climb called Slab Stick. On the inside corner climb Tutti Fruitti 5.7 I climbed higher than on previous attempts and only jumped off when it began to become apparent that I would start to run into more serious trouble once I was above 10 feet. By the time noon rolled around I was ready to pick up Connie and head back home. Sat, 23 Oct 2010
View Wellesley Grand Tour (Twice), October 23, 2010 in a larger map I had previously been lost on this course, so I ran it in the reverse of my normal direction today to find out where it entered the grounds of Babson College. I think I have it figured out. Connie was volunteering for 4 hours this morning, so I ran for 3:20 managing 20 miles, almost two complete circuits of the Grand Tour. This will be my last, read 'only,' long run in preparation for Stone Cat in two weeks. |
