Shoe Review: Pearl Izumi E:motion Trail N1

I go through a lot of shoes.  More specifically, I go through a lot of trail running shoes.  Some of them, I wear a few times, put maybe 75-100 miles on them, and just realize that they aren't what I was hoping they would be.  Most of those either end up as a gift to a friend, or in a pile in the bottom of my closet.

Every once in awhile, I find that shoe.  You know the one I'm talking about.  The shoe that feels like it was made just for your stride, for your foot, for the terrain that you train on the most.  The shoe that was made for you.  

I've only ever found a few of those shoes in the probably 20+ different pairs of trail running shoes.  The first, was the NB MT110.  I loved that shoe, and I still love it.  There is still a pair in my closet right now, that I still pull out on occasion.  It's the first pair of shoes I've ever bough a second pair of when my first wore out. I ran my first trail marathon in them.  I'll always have an infatuation with those shoes.

The second pair, was the Salomon XT S-Lab 4.  I felt fast wearing those shoes.  They say that bright shoes affect your mental perception of how fast you run, well, it's hard to find something brighter that Salomon red.  Unfortunately (or not), the one pair of these I owned I got at a crazy online sale, and I could only find them for $180 after that.  Nope, not paying it.

I went through a few other pairs of trail shoes, finding some decent ones, but never anything I really fell in love with.  I even bought another pair of super expensive shoes that came in bright red and were designed with the ultra runner in mind.  I wanted to love them, but I just couldn't.  The tread chunked off, the fit wasn't right, and after two runs, I sent them back.  

I needed something that could handle high mileage training, have a smooth and comfortable ride, provide grip on gnarly terrain, as well as run good on the flat, and last for a long time.  I searched, I read reviews, I asked people through social media, I looked back through pictures at what other people wore during trail races.  

I remembered back to Western States...and Timmy Olson.

He managed to win two years in a row (so far) wearing the Pearl Izumi Trail N1s.  At this point, I figured I should give them a shot.  Yep, I fell for the marketing, but I'm not afraid to admit it.  I have to be honest, all the reviews I read on them were mixed.  Some people complained that they were far too stiff after a couple of runs.  I was willing to take a chance, because I think in this day of "barely there" minimalist shoes, people have gotten far too used to a shoe being uber-flexy right out of the box.  Do people not remember what it is like to have to break in a pair of running shoes?

I was skeptical.  I had nothing to lose, because I know I could always go back to my MT110s if these didn't work out...but I had to wonder....what if they are that good?  So I ordered a pair...

My first pair of Trail N1s. 

When I got them and took them out of the box, I was surprised.  Fairly light, but not minimalist.  Good tread pattern, but not overly aggressive.  Decent amount of cushion, but only the necessary amount, not too much.  And that upper; that seamless piece of ventilated beauty.  I fell in love with that upper the first time I put it on.  

(*I'm not going to bore you with the specific specs and marketing quotes about this shoe, you can get it from Pearl Izumi's website if that's what you are looking for.)

Taking them out for the first run was on my usual route around my house, which is the perfect trail shoe  proving ground.  Starts out with about 1.5 miles of road, then cuts to a sandy fire road, then a super sandy climb up to a ridge line.  Once on the ridge line, there are miles of trail options; rolling gravel double track, and gnarly, techy, lava rock encrusted single track with rolling hills, and steep climbs/scrambles.  If a shoe can survive a couple runs through here, I'd be willing to put it through anything.

Out on the run, I was surprised with how they did on the road.  They obviously aren't road shoes, but they aren't uncomfortable or clunky on the road either.  Good so far, but I wasn't looking for road shoes.  

On the sandy fire road, they did just fine...but I'm still not super impressed; a decent pair of road shoes would be fine too.  

I climbed up the sandy slope to the ridge line, and to no surprise, the shoes filled with sand.  Now, I won't hold this against any shoe, because they all fill with sand.  This is that deep, powdery, uninhabited beach kind of sand.  And it's about a 50 degree climb.  Unless you're wearing fishing waders, you're going to get sand in your shoes.  

Next, I hit the single track.  This shoe came alive...

Steep rocky climb?  Check.  Rolling smooth track?  Check.  Bombing down loose, rocky, technical steep descents?  Double check.  This shoe handled everything I could throw at it on the first run, and just sat there asking for more.  I ran hard, I ran fast, up, down, off camber, soft ground, hard ground, anything I could find.  At the end I looked down at my feet, and in my head the shoes looked back and said "Is that all you've got?"

Pearl Izumi claims these shoes have some sort of E:Motion witchcraft built in to them.  I'm an average man, so I have no idea what all that mumbo jumbo means exactly.  But I do know this...whatever it is that's engineered into these shoes, it works.  Don't just take my work for it, take a look around.  Take the ultra running community for example.  It's not often you see the elite runners wearing shoes that are a different brand than what their sponsor makes...but when you do, there's a good chance it's these Pearl Izumis.  And now I know why.  

The more I wear these shoes, the more I like them.  They were stiff at first, but after about 50 miles, they broke in perfectly.  If you try them, and don't like them at first run, give them some miles, these shoes will make you a believer.  I've got around 250 miles in these shoes, and I still love them.  It's pretty much all I run in, no matter where I'm running.

Tread comparison, new (obviously) on the left, old on right after 250-ish miles.  There's probably just a little less than half the tread left in the forefoot.  Note:  The terrain around here destroys most shoes pretty quickly due to the grittiness.  These PI's have stood up much better than most shoes.

The red and black one still has the cardboard insert in it, but as you see in comparison, the upper has held up amazingly well.  Especially considering all the run-ins this upper gets with shard volcanic type rock.

In fact, I just bought another pair to keep in the box until I break them in for my fall 50 miler.  I love my Pearl Izumis.  No longer do I have to decide which shoe to buy, only which color.  I plan on running these things into the ground time, after time, after time, after time....

New ones in a new color...just waiting for a run.

Race Report: Big Bear Ridge Run 24 Miler

On a whim, I decided a couple of weeks ago to sign up for a local trail race that I had been eyeing on Ultrasignup.com for quite sometime.  It met all the criteria I was looking for when I signed up:

1.  It was close enough that I could drive to the race, run it, and drive home in one day;

2.  It was something I hadn't run before;

3.  It fit in as a long run in my training schedule for my winter 50-miler.

The Big Bear Ridge Run fit the bill.  It's part of a series of races sponsored by Race Ready that takes place locally.  The other races are the Holcomb Valley Trail Runs (also near Big Bear), and the Mount Baldy Run-to-the-top.  Originally I thought it might be cool next year to run the whole series, but now I'm not so sure...more on that later.

We arrived Sunday morning at the registration area for packet pickup right at 7 a.m. when they opened up.  The one thing I found odd, was that on race day morning the packet pickup was in the parking lot of a mexican restaurant, and the start line was another mile or two away at a ski resort...or more so on the side of a residential road near a ski resort.  Packet pickup and race swag (see photo below) complete, the crew (my wife and son) and I were parked on the side of the road at the "starting line" hanging out until race time.  At least they had a porta-potty...

The race swag.

That was the sign on the side of the road.  Pretty self-explanatory.

As start time approached, all the runners mobbed to the starting area for a little pre-race briefing from the RD.  It was kind of a pain in the ass, because we were all gathered around him standing in the middle of a residential road, and there was still traffic trying to get by.  Prior to and during the brief, the RD was passing out colored stickers for each person to put on their bib to determine their distance; I don't remember which color was what distance, all I knew is that the race I was running, the 24 miler, was no sticker.

During the brief the RD passed to us that there was a slight course modification for the 24 miler due to the government shutdown on some of the trails, so it might have slightly affected the distance of the course.  That was fine with me, as he said it did involve increasing the amount of single-track on the new Skyline trail.  I was happy that considering the other races throughout the country were getting cancelled due to the shutdown, that this one was happening at all.  

The start of the race was a very local feel.  It was literally the race director saying "Go," and the runners were off.  People took off up the road, which quickly turned into fire road, climbing steadily for the first 2 miles.  It seemed like everyone was moving very fast, but then again, I've kind of grown accustomed to "ultra" speed....slow and steady.  Considering I was just treating this race as a catered long training run, I was in no hurry.  I had no real expectations for this race, just to go out and enjoy a day on the trail with some other runners.  (Ok, that's not entirely true.  There was one guy in the car next to us when we were waiting at the starting line, who insisted on mean mugging me the entire time prior to the start.  I don't know why, because I was trying to be cordial with him when I was outside the car getting my gear ready, saying "hello" and what not.  Apparently he was trying to be very intense and scare his competition.  It was then I made my only true goal for the race...to beat him.  Goal accomplished.)

Race Start.  That's me in the visor and manpris.

My hill running legs weren't much for the day, so I pretty much stuck to power hiking all the climbs, which still worked out pretty well.  People would pull away from me slightly on the climbs, but my down hill legs were strong, and I would usually catch them and pass them on the flats and downhills.  Since this was the first race I've done where I didn't taper, I was pretty happy with how I felt.  I definitely wasn't fresh, having had about 45 miles that week in my legs already, including a 14 mile tempo run on Friday night.  So I just continued truckin' along, running my own race.  

I did notice that of the seven "aid stations" that were on the long course, I swear I went through the first 4 in the first 8 miles.  It was confusing, I'd come up to what I thought was an aid station, but it was just a water stop.  The aid station locations just seemed poorly planned in trying to accommodate all the race distances.  I had my Salomon hydration pack on, and plenty of nutrition, so I just blew through pretty much all the aid stations until somewhere around mile 12.  

At this point, I was pretty much running alone, having passed the few guys that were in front of me.  All the 10k and 13 mile runners had already hit their turn around points, and I couldn't see anyone else on the trail.  I had no idea what position I was in, and really, I didn't much care.  No headphones, no traffic, no problem.  Things were going well.  When I did get to the aid station that was somewhere around mile 12, I decided to stop for a second just to check out what was available.  Here is where I had my first real problem.

I realize small local races aren't going to provide your standard "ultra" fare of buffet foods at the aid stations.   And in reality, considering the shorter distance of the race, the aid station options would have been perfect; however (and it's a big however), at the very least, anything you provide that is perishable, should be fresh.  Bananas, brown...and I'm not talking cut up earlier that morning and starting to brown.  I'm talking cut up days ago and stored in the back of some guys truck brown.  I passed on those.  Next was oranges.  The oranges were brown.  I have no idea how long it takes for oranges to turn brown, buy I'll bet it's much longer than it takes bananas, and I know what those looked like.  No citrus today.  There was a handful of pretzel crumbs in a zip lock, water, coke, and electrolyte drink.  There was also a tray of fig newtons...those sounded delicious.  It was still early enough where I was glad to take in some sweets, so I grabbed a few of those, pounded a cup of coke, and headed down the trail.  I took a bite of the newton...crunchy.  Crunchy, crumbly, stale fig newtons. I was so disappointed.  I wanted that fruit filled cake bite.  It was so dry, I couldn't even eat it.  I crumbled the rest up in my hands, and provided critter food to the woodland creatures.  That set the tone for the rest of the race to come.  

Around mile 14 I ended up catching up to a guy ahead of me, and a guy caught me from behind.  Instead of racing it out, we did the typical trail run thing, and decided to run together for awhile.  We pulled into an aid station around mile 17.5, and I decided to take a minute, refill my hydration pack, get some coke, and just take a quick minute.  The three of us who were running together had no idea where we were at in the race, until one of the other two asked the aid station volunteer how many people came through before us, and he said there have been 4 others.  We all three looked at each other, and suddenly realized that if we pushed, we could podium this race.  The other two took off, as I was still trying to pour more Tailwind into my hydration pack and mix it up.  They got a good 30 second head start before I thanked the aid station volunteer, and took off down the single track of the Skyline trail.  

This is where I pretty much gassed out for a number of reasons.  I just didn't have enough legs left to keep up with those guys on the climbs, and I wasn't making up ground on the flats or downhills anymore, either.  I was ok with that.  As long as I didn't get passed in the last 10k of the race, I was happy with how things went.  

Here's what I'll say about the Skyline trail; if I was mountain biking it, it would probably be a killer ride.  I can imagine flying around it's little rollers and banked turns and switch backs on my Trek, and having a good old time.  But...for running, it flat out sucked.  Those little rollers that are great on a MTB, are not conducive to running, and just plain suck.  The banked turns and deeply rutted flats had me constantly running off-camber and rolling ankles.  Don't misunderstand, I love super technical stuff, rocky, rooted, steep; that's my type of terrain.  This was not.  It was simply annoying.  I couldn't get a good rhythm, and it seemed to drag on forever.  I've never said that about a trail before; usually going on forever is something I long for in a trail.  This time it was simply not the case.  Am I bitching?  Am I whining and complaining?  Yep.  But guess what?  It's my race report, so I'll whine if I want to.  

I hit one more aid station with about 2.5 miles left, and then was back on fire roads, followed by a bit of rocky, rutted mountain bike trail to the finish.  I came in 7th overall, 3rd in my age group.  All things considered, I was happy.

Finishing along side my son.

My age group award ceremony.

If I ever went back to that race fresh, I think I could finish top 3, maybe better.  But I won't be going back to that race, and I'll explain why below.

I'm not one to list problems without proposing solutions, so here's my list of both in regards to the race:

1.  The start location was far from ideal, and nearly unsafe.  I suggest moving the start location a mile up the road where there was a pull off at the start of the forest service roads.  There would be far less traffic, and eliminates pavement from the course.  

2.  Aid station volunteers should be briefed on what to expect from runners.  Don't get me wrong, I thank every single one of them, and appreciate their time and effort.  This was a new (2nd annual) race, so I know there are still kinks to work out.  I've been on both sides of the table.  I know what it's like to run and volunteer at aid stations.  I get the impression that these volunteers just didn't know what they didn't know.  It's not their fault by any means, but I do hold the RD and staff accountable for that.  

3.  Provide course information to those who register.  I'm the kind of runner who likes to know details about the course before I race it.  The website had nothing other than the distance.

4.  I enjoy the local feel of a small race.  However, there is a fine line between a race feeling "local," and a race being disorganized.  I would qualify this race somewhere in the grey area in between.

5.  I get the impression this course was designed as a MTB course first, and running race was added as an after thought.  That irks me.  I like MTBs.  I own one.  I love riding it.  But what I would consider an excellent ride and an awesome run are not the same course.  There are miles and miles of trails in that area, pick something other than Skyline. 

6.  I realize there was a MTB race on this course the day before, therefore all the aid station food items were probably prepped the day or two before that.  It was evident.  Give the runners the same effort as the mountain bikers, and give us some semi-fresh aid station food.

7.  I love beer.  I love finish line parties, big or small.  This was a nice gathering with chili and smoothies for racers and spectators alike.  What I don't like, is seeing the RD sitting around drinking beer while he still has runners on the course.  You may call me uptight, I call it irresponsible. (*note, while I didn't see it, it was mentioned that the shuttle drive who took people back to the start had also been drinking and then shuttling runners.  Not good.)

8.  Why the high price?  I've come to accept nowadays that most races are creeping up on the hundred dollar range when you start getting into the marathon and beyond distance, but the $80 price tag on this one baffles me.  I understand the costs of permitting, insurance, etc.  I know it's not free to put on a race.  But $80?  I expected more from a race that is sub-marathon distance in this price range.  The swag wasn't even that great.  Frankly, the shirts were cheap, the "race bag" was obviously left over from the MTB race (it's got MTB tire advertising all over it), and the water bottle was from Gatorade, and didn't even mention the race on it.  At least the age-group medal was decent.  Next year I'll take that $80 price tag and spend it on a 50k.

This race has potential, and with a few tweaks, it could be a great local event.  With a few more tweaks, it could even bring in some real competition.  Make it another 6 or 7 miles, and I bet there's a bunch of SoCal ultrarunners who would love to come throw down.  The truth is, it's just not there yet.  A small race does not have to be a poorly run race.  I don't feel like the RD and organizers put their best foot forward.
 

Here's what I used during the race, for those who are gear nuts:

1.  Pearl Izumi EM Trail N1 - these are my favorite trail shoes ever, for any distance.

2.  Drymax Trail Lite socks - used to be an Injinji guy, but the toe seams bugged me.

3.  Pearl Izumi Ultra 3/4 tights - Yep.  Full Euro, and they were awesome.

4.  Under Armor Short Sleeve - It works.

5.  Waterproof Medical Tape - to prevent a bloody shirt

6.  Body Glide - for my sensitive parts.

7.  Salomon S-Lab Advanced Skin 5 pack - used 1 flask with water, hydrapack with nutrition

8.  Under Armor visor - because it's SoCal trail running, and thats how we do.

9.  Oakley sunglasses - because they make me look cool

10. Suunto Ambit GPS watch - because Suunto.

For race nutrition,  aside from coke at aid stations, I only used Tailwind Nutrition.  It worked awesome, except when I over mixed it in a hurry, and the berry flavor was just too sweet.  I'll take the hit on that, but know this; I'll only race with Tailwind from now on.  

I also took Master Amino Acid Pattern (MAP) prior to the race, and took 4 more pills about half way through.  I took 4 more post race, and when I woke up the day after the race, my legs felt fresh.  This stuff is amazing, albeit costly.  I don't know exactly how it works, but it does.  Period.

In all, it was a decent day.  There never really is a bad day on the trail.  It was a confidence booster knowing I can do well even on fatigued legs.  I'm feeling better every week about my fitness levels, and I'm excited to see how things go when I actually taper for a race.  

Bootlegger 50k in November is next on the schedule, and I may "mini-taper" for that race, since it will be my last long run before the real taper starts for TNF 50 in December.  Feeling good about progress during this training cycle.  It's higher volume than what I've done in the past, and also a little more tempo stuff than usual.  

And so far, it's working.

He doesn't care, He'll race in blue jeans.

Running on the AC100 Course

I set out this past Saturday to get in a nice, hard, long training run.  After volunteering at an aid station for the Angeles Crest 100 this summer, I knew at some point I needed to get out into the San Gabriel Mountains and experience some of the trails they had to offer. 

While the PCT winding through the San Gabriels is similar single-track to what I find nearly every weekend in the San Bernandino's around Big Bear, there is one significant difference: elevation.  At least in this specific section of trail, it was significantly higher than the usual 7k-ish feet in Big Bear. 

Mount Baden-Powell was the highest point on my outing this time.  It's the fourth highest peak in the San Gabriel Range, topping out at 9,407' according to the USGS.  Technically the AC 100 course doesn't go to the summit, instead turning down the PCT about 100' shy of the peak; I, however, couldn't resist the extra effort to see the view from the top.

The peak was very crowded, which surprised me, though I guess it shouldn't have.  It was a beautiful day out, and I passed an inordinate amount of hikers heading up the switchbacks to the summit in the morning.  After I spent some time enjoying the views, I headed back down the trail to complete my out and back run along the PCT to Islip Saddle and back. 

It was a solid effort, far more climbing than I was planning on, but it was a good confidence booster of a run in the buildup to a few races here in the near future.  What I found odd, is that I didn't really feel much effect from the altitude.  I felt great the whole time, and considering I live at around 2000', going up to over 9000' is quite a difference.  It's not that I think I've gained any physical benefits from the pretty much every weekend training at about 7k feet, but more so the mental benefits.  I know what to expect when I get up higher, and perhaps I just don't mentally allow my body to be affected by it.  Time will tell, as next year I plan on "getting higher" than I have all year long.

Run Stats:

Vincent Gap TH - Baden-Powell Summit - Islip Saddle - Vincent Gap TH
25.8 miles
7067' vertical gain
5:51:33

Finding the High Ground...Literally.

The High Desert is an interesting place right now.  Apparently this is "monsoon season."  I'll buy that, considering that I've seen more rain here in the afternoons in the past couple weeks than you see the rest of the year...by far.  Probably more rain in one day than we see here the rest of the year...and thus sets the stage for yesterday's debacle.

I knew it was probably going to rain in the early afternoon, and I wanted to beat the heat, so I took off for Joshua Tree National Park fairly early to get my run in; just a 16-miler yesterday, which is significantly shorter than what I've been doing on the weekends. 

I started the run with a "quick" 4 mile round trip jaunt up and down Ryan Mountain, to get a quick 1k feet of vertical in, since the trail I would run next was relatively flat (only about 6-700' vertical over 12 miles).  After a quick trip up and down the mountain, I headed out to the California Riding and Hiking Trail to do an out and back of 12 miles total.

When I started out on that trail, it was beautiful; sunny, only a few puffy white clouds in the sky, a slight breeze, and about 80 degrees.  It was about 5 miles out that a storm cloud popped out of nowhere to my northwest, but it didn't look like it would come anywhere near me.  I hit the turn-around point, and headed back.  Unfortunately, the storm cloud grew, and followed me.  At about 6.5 miles in, and still 5.5 miles from my car, the rain hit.  This rain was that kind that had HUGE drops that would sting when they hit the skin. 

I knew the high propensity for flash floods in this high desert region, so I pushed on before the weather got too bad to try to avoid such a scenario.  Then the hail came.  Hail?  Really?  It's September in the desert, and I was suddenly getting pelted with marble size hail.  I found a boulder nearby to seek cover from temporarily, but once I was out of the rain and hail, I knew I couldn't stay long.  The problem, was that I was in a tank top and running shorts, soaking wet, and the temperature (I would later find out) had dropped down to the low 50s with the onset of this front. 

Once I started shivering, I knew, rain or shine, I had to keep moving.  I pushed through the last few miles of driving rain and got back to my car.  I started driving from the parking lot, but here's the thing; this parking lot is on a dirt road....in the desert....during a torrential rain storm. 

Release the flood waters.

Not my picture, but this is how I remember it in my head.

I got to a point in the road, where I knew my car was not going to make it any further, the water was just moving too quickly, it was too high, and the road was washing out.  I figured the smart thing to do would be to back up to where I came from, as it was fairly high ground, and just wait the storm out.  No dice.  Within the few minutes it took me to make that decision, the road behind me had flooded as well. 

I sat in my car for probably 20 minutes, getting very nervous, and hoping the rain would stop, and the waters would recede.  The longer I sat there, the higher the water got, and the harder it rained.  By now, I had realized that the rushing water was creeping up my tires. 

I knew I wasn't far from the main road, where there was bound to be traffic, but I couldn't see it, and I knew they couldn't see me.  I sat debating whether or not to stay in the car, or to get out and make a break for the road before I got stuck where I was at. 

I made my choice.  I had to succumbed to the fact that I was probably going to lose the car to a flash flood, but that's what insurance is for, right?  I grabbed what I thought was important:  my wallet, my car keys, and my cell phone (not that the phone really made a difference, because there is no reception inside the park). 

Just then, by pure luck, I saw the flashing code lights of a Park Ranger's vehicle out on the main road.  It gave me something to shoot for, and I surmised it couldn't be more than a half mile away.  The problem?  In these rushing waters, it was probably going to be the longest walk of my life. 

I made my break for it, and took off splashing through the water.  At first, it wasn't that deep.  It was moving fast, and washing out the dirt road, but it was only up to around my ankles.  Then it got deeper, and deeper, and at it's deepest point it was up to my waist.  It's not like these were calm waters either, a kayak'er would have loved to have been out on this newly formed rushing river. 

Again, not my picture, but when I took off from my car, this is how it felt. 

I pushed through the water, moving slowly, but deliberately, and managed not to fall completely over in the water.  It was cold, though, like icy cold.  I got out of the other side of the most flooded area, and made my way up to the ranger's SUV.  He apparently didn't see me, because I spooked him a little bit when I walked up next to his window. 

I explained what happened, and got in his vehicle and waited out the storm.  Glad he had his heater on, because I was freezing.  We chatted for a bit, he made some tension reducing comments like "Maybe you will get a new car out of the deal."  Which I would be all about...except that is the new car I just got. 

I hung out in his car and watched flood waters engulf what seemed like the entire park.  Then the rain stopped, and the sun came back out (typical here) like nothing ever happened.  The waters started going down, and I told the ranger (Dylan) that I was going to head back to my car, and see what the damage was.  I left him my name, and told him that if I didn't come back up, it's because I was going to try and drive the car out because it wasn't destroyed.  If my wife called the ranger station, they could tell her I was OK, but I would probably be a little late. 

How I expected to find my car when I got back to it.

He gave me an emergency blanket "just in case" and said if I didn't think I would be able to get out, to just come back to the road, and they would call me a tow truck.  I made my way back to the car, and was pleasantly surprised!  Apparently Italian cars (Fiat) have superior door seals.  From the water line, it looked like it had made it just above the bottom of my doors, and about half way up the tires.  I got it, and dry as could be (at least until I sat down and drenched it all with my wet clothes).  She started right up and was good to go, so I blasted the heat, and waited for the rest of the water to go down. 

The rain had ended, and the flood waters were going down slowly but surely, so I just waited it out.  After about an hour, I could start making my way up the road to the pavement, and managed to get back on solid ground.  I waved to Dylan as I drove by, and made my way out of the park.  It was a lucky day.

Before one of the 6 people who probably read this freak out, yes, I realize it is stupid to take a small car into a flood plain in the desert during monsoon season.  However, keep in mind, I've become familiar with the weather patterns in the area, and even the park service agreed that this particular storm was kind of a fluke in the rapidity of it's onset, and the earliness in the day that it started.  Point being, it was unexpected for everyone.  I was by no means the only vehicle/driver put in a sketchy situation yesterday, but I may have been the luckiest.  I know the rangers and the Search and Rescue teams were very busy. 

Thanks to the Park Rangers (Dylan in particular) for giving me a warm vehicle to hang out in on the high ground while I waited it out.  And thank you Mother Nature, for reminding me who's boss, and for not destroying my little car!

Desert Storm

Things have been a little different here in the High Desert lately.  It's been raining...almost every day for the past week or two.  Not for very long, mind you, but out here it doesn't really take much rain to cause havoc on the roadways as the water washes across the sun-baked, dehydrated landscape.

Roads are constantly being washed out, flash flood warnings are occurring on a daily basis, and thanks to the remnants of a tropical cyclone off the Pacific coast, temps have actually been fairly comfortable (note:  comfortable here is anytime you can manage to keep it under triple digits in August, and we've even had a few top out in the 80s...crazy!).

What the rain is good for, aside from a nice change of pace with the weather, is great pictures.  The storms in the desert move in fast, hit hard, and then seem to disappear into nowhere.  I specifically remember this past Saturday, when I was running one of my favorite trail loops in Joshua Tree National Park (Lost Horse Mine Loop, you can see more here), and it was a beautiful morning with barely a cloud in the sky.  One minute I'm floating along a descent to one of the mine sites in sunshine, and when I climb back up the trail, a cool breeze hits, and the sky turns black.  I managed to finish my run and get back to the car right before it unleashed.

I don't mind running in the rain, in fact, I rather enjoy it.  What I'm not a fan of, however, is trying to drive my low-to-the-ground, front-wheel drive car down a dirt road in the desert during a flash flood; fortunately I made it to pavement in time.

I've managed to snap a few pics of storms as they've rolled through the past few days, so enjoy the pics!

 

This is My High Country

We each have our place of refuge; that place we know we can go to escape, even if it’s for just a little while.  That place where you get to reset and recharge, even if it requires you to expend all your energy just to get there.  It might be in the mountains of California, or the coastal plains of the Carolinas.  It could be high deserts of the southwest, or the foothills of the northeast.  No matter where you are, we all have our place of refuge; our own “High Country,” if you will.

This is mine.

In the past, I’ve always thought of the High Country as being literally just that.  A place high in the mountains, surrounded by the alpine wilderness, and for some, it may be just that.  The more time I’ve spent in such places, the more I’ve acquiesced to the fact that it’s more of a figurative term to me, than a literal one. 

To me, the High Country is simply a place where you can go be amongst nature, to achieve a higher state of being, or at least a higher state of yourself.  Some might call it a religious, or spiritual experience.  It’s that place where you can go, look out over the wilderness, and get that feeling in your gut that lets you know this is where you are supposed to be.  A place to be in the moment, where everything feels right in the world, and suddenly everything becomes clear. 

For me, I have experienced a few of those places.  One of them was on the summit of Mt. LeConte in Great Smoky Mountain National Park.  I’ve written of this experience before, and each time I reread that post, or think back to it, I get chills thinking about what it felt like.  I can still see it as if it is right in front of me; I can smell it as if I’m still there.  The crisp, cool air that had a still freshness I’ve yet to find anywhere else.  The green forest growth that blanketed the earth, undisturbed by footsteps.  And that lone single track trail, that even amongst the silence, whispered “follow me.”

Another one of those places, has come in the form of the high desert mountains of Joshua Tree National Park.  So arid and hot during the summer, that it seems to sear away your insecurities.  During the winter, it’s such a place of contradictions.  Amidst the desert, you experience cold, blustery winds, snow, and haze blanketing the mountains.  It’s almost as if you are taken back to a time before people walked the planet, and you are the only one there to see it.

Recently, I’ve had the chance to spend time in what is quickly becoming my favorite place in the world.  It’s my literal and figurative High Country; the San Jacinto Wilderness near Idyllwild, California.  Here, you can climb the trails through lush green, up into the alpine forest, and continue farther.  Climb higher and higher, to peaks of over 10,000 feet, and look out, over everything.  You feel on top of the world.  I felt on top of the world.  I pushed harder and harder to get to the peaks, lungs and legs burning, to be rewarded with a feeling of overwhelming awe.  I peered out over the mountains and valleys around me, and felt an emotional connection with my surroundings.  Those mountains called to me…”Welcome,” they said.  I finally felt as if I have arrived.

I’ve found my High Country.  Go find yours.

To the Mountain Top

The family and I took a trip down (up?) to Palm Springs a couple weekends ago to ride up the Palm Springs Tramway.  The tram takes you up the side of Mount San Jacinto, starting at the base of the mountain, and traversing in the suspended tram car up the eastern face of the mountain to the station at around 8500'.

It's really nice up there, especially considering the temperature difference of about 35 degrees.  It was a hot day in the desert, and a perfectly cool day up at the top.  We did some hiking while we were up there, and then topped it off with a late lunch at the restaurant at the top.  It was a great time, Tyler really enjoyed being in the woods.  He loved running around on the trails, so I may have a future trail runner in the making!

I took many pictures, but this is my first time taking pics using a DSLR, but I think I'm going to like it (once I get it all figured out!).

At the top, starting our hike!

King of the Mountain!

Tyler is loving the trails.

Tyler and mommy.

Even Tyler can work the camera!

His spidey sense was strong...

High country

Awesome single track...I'll be back for you.

My little trail runner.

Just taking it all in.

A little color.

He loves the big rocks!

Looking out over the world.

Looking down over the Coachella Valley from 8k'.

I'm so hungry I'll eat my finger!

Our ride for the day.

Looking down from the tram.

The tram route.

There is running water in the desert!

Nice little waterfall.

Just getting some sun.

All kinds of plant life!

It was a great day on the mountain.  We did a good little bit of hiking, but the altitude had the gang worn out pretty quick.  Miles of single track up there, just waiting to be run.  You can go to the west side of the mountain, and take any number of trails from Idyllwild to the top, or if you are more ambitious, you can take the cactus to clouds route all the way from Palm Springs to the peak of San Jacinto.  One of these days, I will be so ambitious, but it will take plenty of planning.  The route is essentially 10k' of vertical gain, and it's up the whole way.  Planning out water resupply and working out the right time of year is the logistics I'll have to lock down.  Not something I'm going to attempt this year, however, it might be an adventure for the late spring next year; I'll have to see what my race schedule looks like.

In other news, training begins again for my fall races.  The focus race is The North Face San Francisco 50 miler in December, but I'll also be doing Bootlegger 50k in November as a tune up, and probably throw in some other shorter local races in the coming months.  It feels good to have a schedule again, and a focus.  After about two months of non-specific running, I'm happy to be back into a routine.

I know I lost some fitness since my peak for Leona Divide, but I still feel pretty good.  Everything seems to be falling back into place quickly, and hopefully the base I built all last year will keep things on track as the mileage increases.  I'm planning on peaking out at around 70 mile weeks for this one, which is more than I did for my 50k.  Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.  That's the motto I'm sticking to this time.

My climbing legs are coming back, and I plan on having them stronger than ever by the time December hits.  It's going to be hard for me to use Bootlegger as just a tune up, and not run it at full effort.  I want to make sure I peak at the right time, which is the hardest part.  Running a race as a training run is not something I've had much luck with in the past; when the gun goes off, I get a little too excited.  Bootlegger will be a good exercise in restraint.  The plan is to finish it feeling strong, not beat myself up, and then start a nice taper.

I'm optimistic about my upcoming training, and confident I'll be ready come December.  In the meantime, Keep Running!