Saturday morning put me at Seven Mile Creek Park on US 169 between Mankato and St. Peter. In the spirit of Krupika running on snow-covered trails, I checked out the trails.
I found the trails well-packed by a season's worth of walkers and snowshoers. I even saw a man riding a mountain bike. The trail was mostly flat with small rolling hills and an occasional climb out of (and decent back into) the creek valley. I put on about five to six miles in about 55 minutes. The first annual 7 at 7 trail run is on May 21, and my wife is running it as her first trail race.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Using snow shelters for extra bonus warmth
Until Saturday night, I had never slept in a snow shelter before. I made it seven winters working at a winter camp for boy scouts and supervised the building of umpteen such structures, but had never spent the night in one. Necessity has a funny way of changing such things.
It all came to be because my sleeping system was woefully inadequate for the actual temperatures experienced.
I really have two sleep setups for cold (winter) weather: a -20F degree down bag and a 20F degree MYOG quilt that I put inside a 30F degree down bag. The former can be used in a tent, under a tarp, etc., while the latter is placed inside a bivy. I used this quilt and bag setup in Montana in 2009 and feel comfortable with it to take it down to single digits above zero when combined with insulated clothing.
This weekend, several forecasts said that the Sunday low was zero degrees, and the temp would rise into the low 30s later that day. Perfect testing for my setup in a controlled environment. And then the cold broke loose.
The weekend temperature plunge started Friday night continued into Saturday morning. It was -14F at sunrise on Saturday, and -9F when my crew left base camp a few hours later. I rarely put on my down coat before about 3 pm. This weekend, it was on by 12:45 pm - just a few minutes after getting to camp.
I assessed the situation - I needed to do something. At this pace, the temp would not get above zero during daylight. Once sunset hit, the temp would plummet 10 to 15 degrees until it bottomed out just before dawn the next morning. I did not want to shiver my way to dawn.
Even with wearing everything I had, I needed to get more insulation into my system. Snow was the only thing available. Inspiration hit. When I did the Hudson Bay Expedition in 2005, I bought Tom Brown's survival guide a few days into the trip and carried it with me. I paged through it in the evenings, making mental notes of interesting ideas.
Small is beautiful Brown advised. With that, I started to make a pile of snow. It was about 3.5 feet high and about six feet long. It rounded slightly at the top as most piles do, and angled off the back. I poked foot-long sticks into the sides for a guides later. And then I let it sit for a few hours. I was to make a quinzee, al beit slightly modified.
When the few hours passed, the snow had settled and digging began. With Brown's words in mind, I took a shovel and excavated a coffin-size tunnel out of my pile. I slid myself in to test: my feet were near the back and my shoulders were directly below the door. Perfect.
With that, I unfurled by bivy and in it went my two sleeping pads (full length and 3/4 Ridgerests). Then went my backpack (GG Vapor Trail) to its spot under my feet, the remainder of its contents sitting in the bivy. Sleeping bags were next: first the bag and then the quilt layered inside. The whole package slid neatly into my tunnel.
Nightfall came, and now came the test. I took off my boots (Steger Arctic mukluks) and changed into dry socks. I then removed the boot liners from the moosehide and canvas shells, and placed them on my feet. As always, the mukluks went into my compression sack (itself turned inside out) and into the bag. I slid into the bag, wearing everything I had with me except my damp socks and insulated mittens. I even put hot water in my camp-issued 16 oz Nalgene bottle and threw it in the bag. Up went by parka hood, and my bag hood went over that. There was minimal space between the top of my bivy and the roof of the tunnel, but my insulation was not compressed.
I have never slept so well in the winter as I did that night. As usual, I woke up to urinate twice (1 and 5:30 AM - right on schedule) but was never cold. My feet were sufficiently insulated, and my nose was never cold. Dawn came at 6:30 am and I rose with the sun. I would later learn that the temp bottomed out at -14F - an impressive 20 degrees colder than I had ever taken that sleep system before. I walked back to base camp comfortable and more knowledgeable than when I left just 24 hours before.
My bags paid the price for this knowledge, though. I did not use vapor barriers, and perspiration condensed in my bag, quilt and down parka. Moisture from my breath condensed on and in the shell of my bag in front of my face and collapsed and severely compromised the insulation there (Andrew Skurka faced a similar problem on his Icebox trek). If I had had to spend another night out, I would have needed to spend an hour or so drying my bag in the afternoon sun.
This was not a situation I intend to repeat, but it was inspirational and informative. I can't think of how I could have solved my problem any better, and I am for the wiser because of it. I do not intend to test this again, but its lessons will be used on many trips to come.
It all came to be because my sleeping system was woefully inadequate for the actual temperatures experienced.
I really have two sleep setups for cold (winter) weather: a -20F degree down bag and a 20F degree MYOG quilt that I put inside a 30F degree down bag. The former can be used in a tent, under a tarp, etc., while the latter is placed inside a bivy. I used this quilt and bag setup in Montana in 2009 and feel comfortable with it to take it down to single digits above zero when combined with insulated clothing.
This weekend, several forecasts said that the Sunday low was zero degrees, and the temp would rise into the low 30s later that day. Perfect testing for my setup in a controlled environment. And then the cold broke loose.
The weekend temperature plunge started Friday night continued into Saturday morning. It was -14F at sunrise on Saturday, and -9F when my crew left base camp a few hours later. I rarely put on my down coat before about 3 pm. This weekend, it was on by 12:45 pm - just a few minutes after getting to camp.
I assessed the situation - I needed to do something. At this pace, the temp would not get above zero during daylight. Once sunset hit, the temp would plummet 10 to 15 degrees until it bottomed out just before dawn the next morning. I did not want to shiver my way to dawn.
Even with wearing everything I had, I needed to get more insulation into my system. Snow was the only thing available. Inspiration hit. When I did the Hudson Bay Expedition in 2005, I bought Tom Brown's survival guide a few days into the trip and carried it with me. I paged through it in the evenings, making mental notes of interesting ideas.
Small is beautiful Brown advised. With that, I started to make a pile of snow. It was about 3.5 feet high and about six feet long. It rounded slightly at the top as most piles do, and angled off the back. I poked foot-long sticks into the sides for a guides later. And then I let it sit for a few hours. I was to make a quinzee, al beit slightly modified.
When the few hours passed, the snow had settled and digging began. With Brown's words in mind, I took a shovel and excavated a coffin-size tunnel out of my pile. I slid myself in to test: my feet were near the back and my shoulders were directly below the door. Perfect.
With that, I unfurled by bivy and in it went my two sleeping pads (full length and 3/4 Ridgerests). Then went my backpack (GG Vapor Trail) to its spot under my feet, the remainder of its contents sitting in the bivy. Sleeping bags were next: first the bag and then the quilt layered inside. The whole package slid neatly into my tunnel.
Nightfall came, and now came the test. I took off my boots (Steger Arctic mukluks) and changed into dry socks. I then removed the boot liners from the moosehide and canvas shells, and placed them on my feet. As always, the mukluks went into my compression sack (itself turned inside out) and into the bag. I slid into the bag, wearing everything I had with me except my damp socks and insulated mittens. I even put hot water in my camp-issued 16 oz Nalgene bottle and threw it in the bag. Up went by parka hood, and my bag hood went over that. There was minimal space between the top of my bivy and the roof of the tunnel, but my insulation was not compressed.
I have never slept so well in the winter as I did that night. As usual, I woke up to urinate twice (1 and 5:30 AM - right on schedule) but was never cold. My feet were sufficiently insulated, and my nose was never cold. Dawn came at 6:30 am and I rose with the sun. I would later learn that the temp bottomed out at -14F - an impressive 20 degrees colder than I had ever taken that sleep system before. I walked back to base camp comfortable and more knowledgeable than when I left just 24 hours before.
My bags paid the price for this knowledge, though. I did not use vapor barriers, and perspiration condensed in my bag, quilt and down parka. Moisture from my breath condensed on and in the shell of my bag in front of my face and collapsed and severely compromised the insulation there (Andrew Skurka faced a similar problem on his Icebox trek). If I had had to spend another night out, I would have needed to spend an hour or so drying my bag in the afternoon sun.
This was not a situation I intend to repeat, but it was inspirational and informative. I can't think of how I could have solved my problem any better, and I am for the wiser because of it. I do not intend to test this again, but its lessons will be used on many trips to come.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
February running totals
February is done, here are the totals.
February totals: 139.5 miles; 19:33:04 hours
Miles/day: 4.98 (February); 4.05 (year-to-date)
Time/day: 00:41:53 (February); 00:34:09 (year-to-date)
Year-to-date: 238 miles; 33:35:37 hours
Also, you an track my running stats on my 2011 training log (also linked in the sidebar at right).
February totals: 139.5 miles; 19:33:04 hours
Miles/day: 4.98 (February); 4.05 (year-to-date)
Time/day: 00:41:53 (February); 00:34:09 (year-to-date)
Year-to-date: 238 miles; 33:35:37 hours
Also, you an track my running stats on my 2011 training log (also linked in the sidebar at right).
Monday, February 28, 2011
Week in review: 2/21-2/27/11
This was a week of excuses and correspondingly, no results.
2/21/11: 6.2 miles
The only run of the week.
2/22-2/27/11: nothing
An unintentional rest. Spending the weekend (last one for the winter season) working at a scout camp never, ever helps the running.
---
On another note, today marks day 1 of the second phase of training. This phase is highlighted by hill workouts, fast, short repetitions, some threshold runs and is designed to build strength for the harder, more demanding phase three. Phase 2 lasts eight weeks and ends the last week in April. Tonight I did my first non-long run quality workout of 2011. It was:
Warmup: 3.2 miles slow
2x hill repeats: 1.1 mile up and down (4.4 total); pace comfortably hard
Cooldown: 3.2 miles slow
Total: 10.8 miles in just under 90 minutes. I'll take that. My legs (quads mostly) are a little thrashed and my cooldown time slowed about 11 percent from the warmup.
On tap for the remainder of the week is 55 miles with a 14 mile long run on Saturday.
2/21/11: 6.2 miles
The only run of the week.
2/22-2/27/11: nothing
An unintentional rest. Spending the weekend (last one for the winter season) working at a scout camp never, ever helps the running.
---
On another note, today marks day 1 of the second phase of training. This phase is highlighted by hill workouts, fast, short repetitions, some threshold runs and is designed to build strength for the harder, more demanding phase three. Phase 2 lasts eight weeks and ends the last week in April. Tonight I did my first non-long run quality workout of 2011. It was:
Warmup: 3.2 miles slow
2x hill repeats: 1.1 mile up and down (4.4 total); pace comfortably hard
Cooldown: 3.2 miles slow
Total: 10.8 miles in just under 90 minutes. I'll take that. My legs (quads mostly) are a little thrashed and my cooldown time slowed about 11 percent from the warmup.
On tap for the remainder of the week is 55 miles with a 14 mile long run on Saturday.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Challenging conventional wisdom: even/negative splits and steps per minute
Two dissimilar thoughts compiled here together because they challenge conventional wisdom and everything I have ever been taught about running.
Is running 180 steps per minute the best stride rate?
Not according to Steve Magness at Science of Running.
His basic premise is that there are two ways to increase speed while running. You can either increase your stride rate (steps/minute) or stride length (inches/step). Conventional wisdom, dating back to Dr. Jack Daniels, is that you should only do the latter and run at a constant stride rate. That rate happens to be about 180, and is based on Daniels's personal observations.
However, Magness uses empirical data to demonstrate that runners increase both when they run faster, and runners who only increase length are artificially limiting themselves. Runners can also increase one factor to correct the other. For example, runners who wear big, bulky shoes are likely to overstride and strike the ground with their heels. They can increase their rate to shorten their stride and smooth out their form.
My take: I haven't done the empirical research like Magness has, but I'm buying what he says. I know from personal experience that when I run hard down a hill, my stride rate and length increase to compensate for the assist I'm getting from gravity.
Also, I happen to run lightly and step quickly. When I started running ultras, I transformed by running technique by increasing my stride rate (and the cost of stride length). I did this because the racing flats I ran in required me to take light, quick steps and running in them full-time reinforced this habit.
Is running negative or even splits the only correct way to race?
Not according to former 100-mile world record holder Cavin Woodward. Ian Sharman (new Rocky Raccoon 100 course record holder, who ran even 20-mile splits) gets the hat-tip for linking me to the 1975 Tipton 100 track race.
I'll just quote Ian:
The post at UltraLegends lists the 10-mile and 50-mile splits for the four fastest 100 mile times (including Woodward's race above). The format is not reader-friendly, and UltraStu put them into a table.
The table shows that it is not necessary to run even or negative splits to do well. You just need to go out hard enough to put up a good time and then taper off just enough to hold onto your time goal and hold off your opponents. The idea is that everyone slows down over time, so why not run hard when you're fresh? It makes a compelling argument, especially given Woodward's accomplishment above.
My take: I try to run even or negative splits in ultras, and I measure this by effort (and often, but not necessarily, pace). I do this because it feels better to me. I get a constant effort, and I don't feel like I went out too hard and lost it all in the end. Running even splits is more comfortable to me, and it is a goal I strive for in every race. Until that comfort level changes or I am looking for a speed boost, I'm going to stick with what works.
Is running 180 steps per minute the best stride rate?
Not according to Steve Magness at Science of Running.
His basic premise is that there are two ways to increase speed while running. You can either increase your stride rate (steps/minute) or stride length (inches/step). Conventional wisdom, dating back to Dr. Jack Daniels, is that you should only do the latter and run at a constant stride rate. That rate happens to be about 180, and is based on Daniels's personal observations.
However, Magness uses empirical data to demonstrate that runners increase both when they run faster, and runners who only increase length are artificially limiting themselves. Runners can also increase one factor to correct the other. For example, runners who wear big, bulky shoes are likely to overstride and strike the ground with their heels. They can increase their rate to shorten their stride and smooth out their form.
My take: I haven't done the empirical research like Magness has, but I'm buying what he says. I know from personal experience that when I run hard down a hill, my stride rate and length increase to compensate for the assist I'm getting from gravity.
Also, I happen to run lightly and step quickly. When I started running ultras, I transformed by running technique by increasing my stride rate (and the cost of stride length). I did this because the racing flats I ran in required me to take light, quick steps and running in them full-time reinforced this habit.
Is running negative or even splits the only correct way to race?
Not according to former 100-mile world record holder Cavin Woodward. Ian Sharman (new Rocky Raccoon 100 course record holder, who ran even 20-mile splits) gets the hat-tip for linking me to the 1975 Tipton 100 track race.
I'll just quote Ian:
In the race described, Cavin Woodward [. . .] set the world best time at that point for 100 miles in 11:38, but it's the way he did it that amazed me. He ran 2:31 for the marathon, 3:01 for 50k, a world best for 50 miles (4:58) and a world best for 100k (6:25)!It's just nuts. Woodward finished at 11:38:54. He ran the first 50 in just under 5 hours, and the second 50 in six hours and 40 minutes. That's a huge pace drift, but he won the race and set three world records in the process.
The post at UltraLegends lists the 10-mile and 50-mile splits for the four fastest 100 mile times (including Woodward's race above). The format is not reader-friendly, and UltraStu put them into a table.
The table shows that it is not necessary to run even or negative splits to do well. You just need to go out hard enough to put up a good time and then taper off just enough to hold onto your time goal and hold off your opponents. The idea is that everyone slows down over time, so why not run hard when you're fresh? It makes a compelling argument, especially given Woodward's accomplishment above.
My take: I try to run even or negative splits in ultras, and I measure this by effort (and often, but not necessarily, pace). I do this because it feels better to me. I get a constant effort, and I don't feel like I went out too hard and lost it all in the end. Running even splits is more comfortable to me, and it is a goal I strive for in every race. Until that comfort level changes or I am looking for a speed boost, I'm going to stick with what works.
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