Big week. 60 miles and my first real speed workout of the year.
3/7/11: 3.8 miles
Running with my wife.
3/8/11 AM: 5.1 miles
Sluggish.
3/8/11 PM: 5.1 miles
Same route, twice in one day.
3/9/11: 6.8 miles
1.9 warm up and 4.9 miles of threshold-speed tempo running. Into the wind.
3/10/11 AM: 3.8 miles
3/10/11 PM: 7.3 miles
3/11/11: 5.1 miles
3/12/11 AM: 0.9 miles
Ran the last section of my wife's 10-mile race with her.
3/12/11 PM: 6.8 miles
3/13/11: 15.1 miles
A true long run; One quarter of the week's mileage in one shot.
Miles: 59.75
Time: 8:33:27
Year-to-date: 342.35
Up next: 60 miles this week with three quality workouts (hill repeats; 10-mile fartlek; and long run).
Monday, March 14, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Death of a shoe
This is what shoes look like when you've put 865+ miles on them. The soles look remarkably good, but the uppers are shredding slowly. There are at least two holes on the left shoe where I can stick my little finger through. The tread is still there, and I can read some of the writing on the soles (in the heel area) never wore down.
When I bought these back in June of 2009, the salesperson told me that they would last about 150 miles. This back at a time when I was still wearing Asics GT 2140s and still believing that I needed shoes to correct my overpronation (or whatever it was), and that shoes needed to be replaced not when they were incapable of being run in again, but when the interior structure wore down.
And then sometime in 2010, something magical happened. I wore out my GT 2140s and Asics stopped making them. My shoes became the 2140s became 2150s. They got bigger, bulkier and more cloddhopperish. Begrudgingly, I bought a pair.
And I was not impressed. They caused pain in the base of my knee post-run, and my shins never felt right running on them. And for good reason. The shoes were overbuilt, sit many millimeters off the ground, and obnoxiously heavy.
I was forced to do something. I dislike shopping for new running shoes because I see the purchase as an investment. If I can't run in them, the investment was poor and the shoes may be used for general knocking around. But most likely not, because the pain associated with running in the poor investment often translates to walking. So the whole thing becomes a waste of money.
And thus, in the summer of 2010, I did something. I started running in my flats, full time. And soon the miles rolled away. My steps got lighter and quicker because I was no longer burdened with clunky footwear. My form improved, and the phantom knee pain caused by the 2150s went away. Those shoes carried by through my first 50 mile ultra, and I certainly get some weird looks running in tiny shoes all the time. With any luck, they'll last a few hundred more miles and get me through my next 50K.
But my flats are dying. The holes in the uppers will get bigger and shred the mesh. My foot will no longer be neatly encased in them. Feet will slide and cause havoc. They are inching toward retirement, with every mile decreasing whatever distance remains. As of this post, I have run at least 900 miles in them. Who knows how long they will last.
When they are ultimately retired, may they rest in peace.
When I bought these back in June of 2009, the salesperson told me that they would last about 150 miles. This back at a time when I was still wearing Asics GT 2140s and still believing that I needed shoes to correct my overpronation (or whatever it was), and that shoes needed to be replaced not when they were incapable of being run in again, but when the interior structure wore down.
And then sometime in 2010, something magical happened. I wore out my GT 2140s and Asics stopped making them. My shoes became the 2140s became 2150s. They got bigger, bulkier and more cloddhopperish. Begrudgingly, I bought a pair.
And I was not impressed. They caused pain in the base of my knee post-run, and my shins never felt right running on them. And for good reason. The shoes were overbuilt, sit many millimeters off the ground, and obnoxiously heavy.
I was forced to do something. I dislike shopping for new running shoes because I see the purchase as an investment. If I can't run in them, the investment was poor and the shoes may be used for general knocking around. But most likely not, because the pain associated with running in the poor investment often translates to walking. So the whole thing becomes a waste of money.
And thus, in the summer of 2010, I did something. I started running in my flats, full time. And soon the miles rolled away. My steps got lighter and quicker because I was no longer burdened with clunky footwear. My form improved, and the phantom knee pain caused by the 2150s went away. Those shoes carried by through my first 50 mile ultra, and I certainly get some weird looks running in tiny shoes all the time. With any luck, they'll last a few hundred more miles and get me through my next 50K.
But my flats are dying. The holes in the uppers will get bigger and shred the mesh. My foot will no longer be neatly encased in them. Feet will slide and cause havoc. They are inching toward retirement, with every mile decreasing whatever distance remains. As of this post, I have run at least 900 miles in them. Who knows how long they will last.
When they are ultimately retired, may they rest in peace.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Week in Review: 2.28-3.6.11
2.28.11: 10.8 miles; 4.4 was up/down hills
First non-easy or non-long run workout of the year.
3.1.11: 4.6 miles
3.2.11: 6.8 miles
3.3.11: 4.6 miles
3.4.11 AM: 5.2 miles
3.4.11 PM: 3.8 miles
Unintentional but exhilarating tempo run. Perhaps a little too early for such speed.
3.5.11: 5.5 miles (approx.)
First trail run of the year.
3.6.11 AM: 5.1 miles
Slow and easy.
3.7.11 PM: 8.1 miles
More slow and easy. In a nice little snowfall.
MILES: 54.6 (goal: 55)
TIME: 7:40:55
Year-to-date: 282.6 miles
Edited 3.7.11 to correct year-to-date miles - ml
First non-easy or non-long run workout of the year.
3.1.11: 4.6 miles
3.2.11: 6.8 miles
3.3.11: 4.6 miles
3.4.11 AM: 5.2 miles
3.4.11 PM: 3.8 miles
Unintentional but exhilarating tempo run. Perhaps a little too early for such speed.
3.5.11: 5.5 miles (approx.)
First trail run of the year.
3.6.11 AM: 5.1 miles
Slow and easy.
3.7.11 PM: 8.1 miles
More slow and easy. In a nice little snowfall.
MILES: 54.6 (goal: 55)
TIME: 7:40:55
Year-to-date: 282.6 miles
Edited 3.7.11 to correct year-to-date miles - ml
Saturday, March 5, 2011
First trail run of 2011
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.
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.
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.
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