Pancreatitis and Endurance Running

Pushing Past Pancreatitis Pain:
A Misapplication of the Ultrarunner's Skillset 

By Kathy Vaughan

     For months, my focus and energy towards a big goal of the season has been to thruhike the 800 mile Arizona Trail, starting at the Mexico border and ending at the Utah border. Due to the desert nature of much of the terrain, and in order to avoid the worst of the heat, April is the best time to do the trip.

      I've made arrangements to have a house sitter stay here while Ras and I are away for a month. I've poured over maps and passage information. I've made supply lists and organized my pack, piling gear next to it on the window bench.  I've studied the gateway communities along the trail and figured out where we can resupply and which towns have coffee shops with Wifi, vegan food options and grocery stores with natural food sections. 

     I've trained in a fun, yet disciplined way, averaging 40 mile weeks and running or skiing an ultra distance at least once a month since September. I started joining Ras for his “Fartlek Friday” sessions 2 months ago, and have been having a lot of fun with it. I've stuck with a yoga home practice, realizing the importance of keeping stretched out so I remain injury-free.   I signed for up for the Pigtails Challenge 100 mile trail race, held within the month after I would return from the AZT, figuring I'd be ready to knock that one out, finishing faster than last year and setting a 100 mile PR. I have put lots of energy into all of this preparation, an important aspect of accomplishing this goal.

     Several weeks ago, a few days before a 40 mile run with my friend Lisa to celebrate her 40th birthday, some crazy cramping started in my abdominal area, radiating around to my back. Having a history of pancreatitis, I should have seen this as a red flag that maybe I was having some inflammation in this organ again. But instead, I convinced myself that my “change of life” years were upon me and I was having some intense cramping related to being a 47 year old female. I had been having some of the other tell-tale signs of this including waking up sopping wet with sweat a couple times a night every few months, the dreaded hot flashes, and a couple of missed cycles.

     Lisa's birthday run went better than any ultra distance I've ever done. It was all on forest service road and county dirt road. The first half had some snowy uphill climbing on icy snow mobile track, but transitioned to forest service road after about 8 miles. After 5 miles on this road, Lisa and I were able to stop at Shona's house and refill our water bottles, munch on salty potato chips and make a few adjustments. Shona joined us for a few miles before turning around to head back to her house. Lisa and I stopped at the bottom of my ½ mile long driveway, where we had an aid station set up in my car. We changed into fresh, dry layers.  I changed from my Lone Peaks into my max cushion Olympus for the section of the run that would be mostly dirt road with some sections of pavement. We ate a quick lunch. We restocked our packs with more snacks to sustain us for the next 22 miles and hit the road again. We had two more homes to stop at along the way. They were both log homes, spaced a good distance apart, welcoming and accommodating to our needs. It broke the run up perfectly and it was fun to share Lisa's birthday with some of her other friends.

     After stopping at the second of the beautiful log homes, Lisa and I had 6 miles to go. The early evening light had begun and the almost full moon became brighter in the sky. We started a downhill run now, with only a few more climbs before we would reach the car we had left parked alongside the road early that morning. The run still felt cruisy, the miles continuing to go by pleasantly, even though we were now hours and miles into it.  I had never felt stronger on a run and the endorphins were helping me to feel invincible. This was the furthest Lisa had ever run (22 miles being her furthest distance so far) and it was exciting to reach her car, knowing that she had accomplished a huge feat by running 40 miles on her 40th and that I was feeling a big growth spurt in my ultra distance running. 

     We had tofu scramble for dinner and chocolate birthday cake for dessert back at my house. Ras was away on his Issaquah Alps 100 Mile Unsupported attempt. We had a quiet time, unwinding from the run and enjoying the delicious meal. I was unaware of any pain creeping back. I had not felt any discomfort on the run.  

     Ras and I continued planning towards our spring thruhike and what adventures we would pursue when we got back. In hospitals these days, pain is measured and described on a scale of 1-10, a good way to let the doctors and nurses know how intense it is at the time. When I woke up one morning writhing in pain that was now registering at an 8, I realized I should take some action if I still hoped to do the hike. Ras suggested I call my insurance company 24 hour nurse hot line number and I in no way wanted to do that. I did it only because he insisted and it wasn't very helpful. I ended up calling my local small town clinic to set an appointment, knowing it might be hard to get in that day. Sure enough, no openings until late the following day, so the nurse told me to go to the ER if my pains increased in intensity. I held off as long as I could and finally two hours before the appointment, Ras drove me the half hour into town to check in at the small town hospital emergency room. 

     I was immediately greeted by the staff who had been expecting me and I felt like I was in good hands. The ER doc was a woman about my age, very sharp and thorough and a University of Washington Medical Center Alumni, the home of the specialists whose care I'd been under since having pancreatic surgery seven years ago. She told me she had written her doctoral thesis on pain and personality type, and said she knew that as an endurance runner I trained myself to compartmentalize pain and ignore it. She also told me this was not a good way to handle the distinctive pancreatic pains with which I was so familiar. After drawing blood to check my lipase levels, it was clear I was in full blown pancreatitis with the levels over 800, far from the normal range. I would be hospitalized while my pancreas “cooled down”.

     Four days later, I'm still here. I have tried clear liquids, but my pancreas isn't ready to handle that yet. It might take several more days before I can eat without causing inflammation or an increase in pancreatic enzymes. 

     Sadly, this puts the AZT on hold. It can't happen right now. The window of time to do the trail before summer heat waves come on is limited and Ras and I will now miss this. I have to see my specialist again in April, to further explore what might be going on in my pancreas. This is hard for me and possibly even harder for Ras to accept. 

     I am coming to terms with this. I find comfort and a sense of excitement for the future if I can now turn my thoughts toward a new goal, a new plan and a future that includes more adventuring.

Hospital Hill Repeats

     Spring forward to almost a week later as I sit now by the woodstove. I have been home for four days after having spent five and a half days in the hospital. It took that long for my pancreas to cool down enough to come home, some slight discomfort still present. I learned that I can help ease the work load of my pancreas by consuming little to no fats and no sugar. This is taking some adjusting, but now after being home a few days and being conscious of what I consume, I am able to put together meals that are satisfying and healthy.

     I have tried to get back into my normal routine as much as possible. I took a day to rest and get caught up on household chores once I got home. By the next morning, I was ready to go on a hike that would last at least 2 hours. Lisa came over and we ended up going on a 3 hour evening hike near my home. Early spring conditions gave us an exciting hike as we walked carefully over slick ice, hopped around large slush puddles and crunched through soft spring snow. I breathed in the fresh outdoor scents and appreciated every moment of being out in the fresh air. 

     Lisa and I got back to my house just when it turned dark. We had done this on many of our adventures together in the past, not timing it on purpose. We stepped inside to a warm house as Ras had kept the woodstove going for us. I made us coffee and we pulled off our sopping wet socks and put on cozy, dry wool socks to warm our feet. 

     While hiking, I had talked with Lisa about how my plans for the Arizona Trail thru hike had changed. I had not canceled the plans like I had thought I would have to, as I lay in a hospital bed, writing the words that begin the text of this blog. I feel better each day and I still have 2 weeks ahead of me to continue healing before Ras and I will hit the trailhead in southern Arizona. I have an appointment next week to see a specialist at the University of Washington Medical Center. I will have an endoscopic ultrasound that will reveal anything in my pancreas that needs immediate attention. If nothing pops up and I feel ready to go, we will continue with our plans to thruhike the 800 mile trail. If I am not feeling well enough for our thruhike but the imaging reveals nothing, we will still travel to the southwest, day hiking and enjoying ourselves all along the way. If something needs immediate attention and it is not smart to pursue this big endurance effort, we will then set our sights on the next goal. I already have many in mind and I can start planning any one of those adventures to keep my spirits up and my heart in the right place. 

     This morning, I joined Shona and Ras for our regular weekly fartlek session.  I focused on using good form and a strong effort during the intervals. I relaxed in between the intervals, during the warm-up and during the cool-down. I thought to myself, “There is nowhere I'd rather be.” I was glad I had worn my Altra Lone Peaks; snow & mud covering the road made for slippery conditions. I had wanted to wear my Olympus for speed work on the dirt road as they had felt so springy and fast when I tried them during fartleks 2 weeks prior.  The more aggressive lug of the Lone Peaks was just what I needed though. The March morning had met us with a wet snow and gusty winds. I was not bothered by the conditions at all and instead breathed in the air, rich with the scent of damp earth and the smell of ponds formed by melt water, in the surrounding pastures. The sweet songs of meadowlarks were leading us down the dirt road and the flitting wings of the mountain blue birds reminded us that these days of harsher runs were coming to an end. I felt better the rest of the day after this healing session in nature. Spring is a season of transition and I am welcoming the changes it will bring this year. 

Early Winter in the Highlands Part 4 of 4: Black Diamond Lake Lollipop

Early Winter in the Highlands Part 4 of 4:  Reflections in the Frozen Canyon 

By Kathy Vaughan

     Shona, Ras and I met in the Whistler Canyon Trail head parking lot on a late November morning to run the 9.5 mile Black Diamond Lake Loop. Starting in the Okanogan River valley, the single track trail climbs quickly up through the canyon walls. The morning was cold and I could hear and see our breath as we all set off up the trail.  I warmed up quickly as the climb continued. I took in the deep scent of the sage, the sweet fragrance of the tall, dried grasses and looked all around me at the rock formations. I have heard that there are Native American petroglyphs on some of these rock walls. Rock climbers enjoy some bolted routes in here. Big Horn Mountain Sheep roam year round, rattlesnakes have dens in the crevices and cougar have been seen along the trail.

     I like the thrill of going into territory rich with wildlife. Ras and I had been studying the difference between canine and feline tracks in the snow before this run, so as soon as we got to the first set of tracks we could see along the snowy route, we stopped to examine them. Ras drew a big circle around the tracks with his trekking pole, and began the lecture. We could see a distinctive cross mark, separating the pads of the animal's feet. The top pads were nested into the bottom pads. These were all distinguishing marks of a canine footprint. We were likely seeing coyote tracks.  We had learned that the prints of a cougar, bobcat or lynx would have an arched pattern to its pads instead. It was fun to talk about the tracks and share any knowledge we all had together. Shona accidentally stepped into the circle of tracks, we all cracked up laughing about how she had ruined our lesson, then we took off running again. 
     

Top left: Canine print, circled to accentuate the shape, taller than it is wide. Bottom left: Circle demonstrating the overall shape of a feline track, wider than it is tall (no track, just a circle to demonstrate). Right: Right foot print of a human female wearing Altra Lone Peaks.

     At a little over 2 1/2 miles up the trail, the Black Diamond Lake Loop trail takes off to the left, from the 100 trail/Whistler Canyon trail. It first crosses a small wooden bridge over a creek that flows powerfully in the early spring, trickles in the summer, but was now dry. The trail was covered in snow, but easy to follow. The temperature was cold enough that the snow was dry and not slippery. It didn't make the running any more difficult and we moved along at a good pace. The trail climbed very gently at first and then steep sections were mixed in as it took us closer to the lake.
     We all settled into the climb, and soon Ras was out of sight ahead of Shona and I. I thought maybe he was powering up the hill ahead of us, intending to stop at some point and wait for us to catch up to him. Not putting too much more thought into it, Shona and I visited and pushed our way up the steep climb. All of a sudden, Ras appeared from behind us, and as most trail runners might assume, I figured he had to step of the trail for a few minutes because of nature's calling. I was wrong. In studying the differences between canine and feline prints, Ras had learned some interesting things about cougar behavior and he had decided to try it out on Shona and I, unbeknownst to us. He had laid down on the frozen ground, hiding in tall grasses and barely visible behind a trail sign. Lying still, he watched Shona and I pass him, without having any idea that he was there. So yes, his thought that we had probably passed by cougars before on the trail without us realizing it, had now been proven. 

Regular readers should recognize Shona Hilton by now.

     Another set of tracks appeared and our lesson in canine and feline differences did us no good now. These were clearly black bear tracks and it had gone the same way we were headed. It was cool to follow these interesting prints in the snow.  Ras went off trail to follow the bear's prints down to the frozen lake. The bear had meandered down to the lake, to frolic around.  We were all surprised that this bear was not asleep in its den somewhere. This bear was clearly awake and even seemed to be playing around in the forest. We could see its tracks climbing along downed trees and scrambling over big rocks. Of course, it could have been hunting rodents.

Right foot bear tracks, rear at top, front at bottom. As with Felines and Canines, the front prints are wider and heavier than the rear. The head and shoulders counterbalance the animal's rump, so their back end is fairly light when moving. Most of the animal's weight is on the front paws. When striding the rear foot lands in front of the fore foot.

     Ras was feeding off the wild animal energy of the bear prints and the joy he was feeling running this fun route on a glorious day. He scampered off trail again to climb to a high point and I whispered to Shona, "He's pretty hyper today!". Sometimes hard of hearing, he had heard this, but didn't bring it up until later in the run at a more opportune time, sneaking it in to the conversation and cracking Shona and I up once again. Having fun with your running partners is awesome. It's distracting, motivating, helps create lasting friendships and most importantly, helps work our abdominal muscles while we are running. Laughing is good therapy any way you look at it.  

     We ended up following the bear tracks around most of the loop.  This may or may not have spawned a conversation between Ras and Shona about their old punk rock days, but it was fun to hear their chatter behind me as I enjoyed running downhill through the soft and forgiving snow. All of the roots and rocks were blanketed over in soft snow and it was a blast to bound downhill over the top. I don't use any traction devices on my Altra Lone Peak 1.5's. The lug pattern on the trail running shoe itself works great. On the trail behind me, I could hear "Bad Brains" this, "Dead Kennedys" and "Seven Seconds" that. Sometimes I heard a lyric being sung by one or the other; Shona's Scottish accent getting thicker with some of her anecdotes; Ras' knowledge going back to a time well before I knew him, when he was a part of his local punk rock scene in Oxnard, California, called "Nardcore".

     We completed the 4 mile loop and were now back on the 3 mile descent of the lollipop stick portion of the trail, back through forest, at first alongside a frozen creek and then back into the canyon walls. The terrain gets rocky underfoot as the trail works its way through the canyon again. I like practicing technical footing in this area and I was feeling awesome so it was easy to settle into a comfortable rhythm. Going back to this trail over time, I get to gauge how I am doing on this kind of rocky trail. I am finding that so much of it is how I feel on the inside, my confidence level. If I can relax, it all flows. If I'm nervous, I brake and stumble. Its so fun when it all synchronizes. I'm still slower than many other runners when I'm feeling my best, just cruising downhill through snow, or dancing through the rocks. I remind myself that I'm a unique individual. We are all unique. As trail ultra runners, we all have our specific histories, talents, age, gender, influences, health~so many factors contribute to how we run. After reminding myself of this,  I feel blessed to be able to be out on the trail, yet again.

     "There has never been another person like you since time began, so there is no one to compare or compete with."   Louise L. Hay

     The 9 1/2 mile Black Diamond Lake Lollipop Loop offers everything I like in a trail run. It is so scenic that you can run this loop over and over again, each time having something new to see. There are distant views of the river valley and the orchards below. The cliffs and rock formations are intriguing and I like to scan them for wildlife. The route offers a great mix-cruisy, downhill running; technical trail; twisty, curvy paths through the trees; rocky climbs; running alongside deep draws; passing by frozen lakes; a glimpse into the area's history; diverse ecosystems; and all of the solitude one could want on a trail.

     Ras and I want to keep this trail open all year by running it once a week. As snow continues to accumulate, we can keep packing a path. It will be worth it. As winter deepens, snow shoe hare will hop around, moose will wander and the elusive lynx that hunts the hare exclusively, may make an appearance. I plan on being out there to see all of the wonders the quiet season of winter will provide.        

Blood On The Snow: Fall-Winter Running

Blood On The Snow: Fall/Winter Running

by Ras

     You don't need a GoPro to get slo-mo, or even hi-def for that matter. My memory has all that and more, including both instant reply and continuous looping. So even now I am internally reviewing footage of a dear friend crashing to the ground, initially a victim of my ineptitude, secondarily a victim of gravity.

     If you've watched enough fail videos, you recognize the shot: a sideways view of the world from a helmet cam that has just swung suddenly downward to the right, then abruptly shuddered to a halt as it came into contact with the planet. That's when I heard and recognized the horrible interrupted cadence of a runner being tripped. Like a deep breath drawn in and held, when a runner's stride is stifled, there is a sudden and unexpected silence that portends impending impact. Foot foot foot foot foot - and then the eerie absence of the rhythm one expected. In a microsecond my mind warned me that a scheduled footfall had been missed, that someone was tumbling to Earth. 

     Tight zoom, focus, and there's my right leg perfectly, as if intentionally, wedged between Shona's planted foot, on which her weight is resting and her body slowly pivoting forward, and the foot she had been swinging forward to take her weight in the next stride. Thanks to me and my goofy right leg, her swing foot will never make it in to place to take her weight, and her body will continue to rotate forward on her planted foot until she suffers consequences only Sir Isaac Newton would delight in describing, and then only if she were a planet or an apple or a marble on a ramp.

     Shona fell well, not splaying flat onto her stomach, but turning onto her hip. She didn't try to arrest her falling body with the sort of rigid, locked arms that send bone-snapping force up the chain to the weakest link: the clavicle. She cushioned her fall and protected her head and face by allowing her arms to curl into place between her skull and the frozen roadbed. But her hand bottle wedged against the ground as her head was still being whipped forward by inertia and her nose and mouth bore the brunt of the impact. As if in a clear viscous fluid, this played out interminably slowly, her collapsed form at my level now as I saw her head snapped back up by the collision, pain contorting her features, her hand flyings to her face defensively, and a crimson droplet mimicking her fall to splash just as pitifully on the snow.

Shona Hilton, in better times

     Seasonally, we are deep into the darker realms of fall in the Okanogan Highlands. Days are barely nine hours long. Nights stretch on into Seasonal Affective Disorder. Old snow on Forest Service roads without southern exposure has been compacted by vehicle traffic into two-tracks of twin luge runs. Sighting along them into the distance, these parallel perils seem to eventually meet. It is so dry during the day and cold during the night that puddles freeze and evaporate from the inside out, leaving an empty depression covered by a rotting skin of ice. Bare spots are so desiccated that footsteps send up puffs of moon dust, and foot prints of it are left on the next patch of snow reached.

     It's not accurate to say that Shona 'took a fall.' That implies volition or responsibility on her part, but she was blameless in this bloody affair. Shona was innocently, and wisely, running up the untracked snow between the icy wheel ruts. She had intentionally chosen to run where there was a crunchy layer of undisturbed snow, which provided both a small amount of cushion and a great amount of traction. Where she was placing her feet, it was excellent snow running conditions. So it would be no more accurate to say that Shona 'fell.' Even though that implies a passive role in her, forgive me, downfall, she had proactively chosen a good route on excellent footing, investing energy and attention into minimizing her chances of being dashed to the ground. Shona deserved to remain upright.

     It would be most accurate to say that I felled her. As though I were in sawyer mode with my trusty Stihl, I brutally cut her free of her connection to the earth's crust. I hadn't been paying attention. I hadn't been looking ahead for a safe route. I hadn't been noticing the changing conditions as three Forest Service roads converged and funneled us onto a narrow, rutted, and ice encrusted earthen bridge. I was zoned out and zenned out and blithely blithering on about what great training it is running in snow and ice, and how those wonderful challenges help hone one's form and technique.

     Suddenly I found myself dancing in mincing strides across a thin, crusty snow ridge between the cupped, icy tire rut and the drop into the creek. My next left foot placement just missed the snow and came down on the sloped ice, instantly washing out from beneath me. As I crumpled to the frozen path on my left side, my right leg was flung straight out athwart the trail, threading itself perfectly between Shona's shins in the middle of her stride. Cue haunting memory recorder; and we're rolling ... and ... ACTION!

     I may have a reputation for being a little bit intense, or occasionally confrontational, but I did not leave the house this morning with the goal of taking one of my wife's closest friends and slamming her to the frozen earth. If you saw Shona's fat lip, bloodied nose, and tear stained face, you might not believe that. I would not be surprised to find a large social worker pounding on my door tomorrow. "Mr. Vaughan, Mrs. Hilton refused to file a complaint, and she maintains that the entire thing was an accident, but we know what really happened. And we'll be keeping an eye on you. Watch yourself." 

     Part of what I love about winter running is the possibility of breaking traction. I use a technique which is variously described as 'natural running,' a 'midfoot strike,' or a few other trademarked names that I am unsure of the potential legal liabilities of mentioning. What it comes down to is focusing on form and technique with the goal of eliminating all braking from your stride. By increasing foot turnover (the tempo, or rapidity of one's strides), leaning forward at the ankles instead of the waist, and landing with the foot below one's center pushing behind instead of reaching forward with the heel, both impact and effort required are greatly reduced. It can be visualized as your torso floating along above the ground while your feet rapidly make just enough contact to keep up.

     In snow and ice this becomes easily apparent. Braking is a big no no. It results in your feet sliding out in front of you and dumping you unceremoniously on your derriere. Skaters can think of it as a wilson. But with natural running technique, when you break traction your foot doesn't slide out in front. Instead, it suddenly kicks up behind you. Walking and running on snow and ice is similar to skiing. If you lean forward slightly at the ankles you have improved control and a better connection to the snow. If you weight your heels, you end up on your butt. And no matter how many times you lose focus or forget to go over your mental from checklist, snow and ice are ever vigilant, and will remind you as many times as you need.

     I am not on a quest for the fastest pace possible. My goal is the perfect foot placement, repeated to infinity. If I were to blend Navaho spirituality with bio-mechanics, I could say my goal is to "walk in perfection." And I'm blessed to find health and peace in the practice and the striving, even if I never achieve my goal for more than a fleeting moment. Will I ever take an infinite series of perfect steps? Most likely not while in this gangly earthly vessel. And if I do, I'll be too busy from that point on to write about it, should I ascend to that endurance nirvana.

     Until then, let this stand as a warning if you are directly behind or in front of me in a lemming line during a race, or if you are pacing me through the night, or if you are considering inviting me on a run. I suffer from Baby Huey Syndrome, blithely going about my business not intending anyone any harm, while inadvertently and unwittingly raining hurt and wrecking havoc on any and all unfortunate enough to wander into my event horizon. If you are within the reach of my potentially flailing limbs, you are in the danger zone. And if you're close enough to high five, you may not make it out alive.

From Sunny Pass to Bonaparte Mountain: Running in the High Hills

      Atop the snowy pass, we braced ourselves against the wind and pushed along the trail. We were on our way to a lake high in the Pasayten Wilderness, beyond Sunny Pass. My running buddy, Shona Hilton and I were out on a late September 14 miler and we had hit the first snowstorm of the season in this area. We had seen the forecast, so we were somewhat prepared, but not enough to keep looking for this mountain lake. We had already come up 5 miles and still had the down run. We had passed a cacophony of ravens and turkey vultures as they feasted on a carcass left behind, by what we were hoping was a hunter rather than a cougar kill. I had been slow to recognize what the the eerie cries of the scavenger birds meant as they circled in the sky, having been distracted from their meal by Shona and I passing through the forest.  The wind was blowing wet snow in our faces and the trail at our feet was getting increasingly more muddy and puddled as we ran.

     We had left early that morning and driven for 2 hours to reach the Iron Gate Trailhead in the Loomis Forest. The trail goes through an old burn area. Shona, Ras and I had ran through here in the summer during the wildflower season. It was nice to be here now and feel the contrast of the autumn season. The bushes were turning red, the larch needles were turning golden yellow and beginning to fall to the ground. The air temperature was chilly. We began in a wet drizzle, but as we climbed higher, we entered the snowy zone. We could see the white dusting on distant Windy Peak. This was the first run for Shona and I in these conditions this new season. It was very invigorating, but we knew we had to turn back before finding the lake with this threatening weather whirling around.

    It was fun running back down towards the trail head. We crossed little streams and danced among the rocks strewn all over the trail. The path was wide though and it was easy to find good foot placements. When we got back to the trail head, we saw an older couple from New Mexico who had been traveling since May, hiking trails all over the Pacific Northwest. They asked us if we'd take the garbage from the parking area with us, as they had just cleaned up a messy campsite someone had left behind. They figured we could help with this environmental effort, by hauling the bag off. Sure. Whatever. Shona is kinder than me and gladly obliged. 

     When we got back into Oroville, I got espresso for Shona and I at our local small-town stand. The coffee is mediocre at best and the service is rarely with a smile. It is nice to share a hot drink after a long, cold run though.

     Shona and I decided to get in one more long run before Baker Lake 50k. We had wanted to run around the 4th of July Ridge Trail that encircles Bonaparte Mountain. While up high on the trail, you reach a 1/2 mile spur trail to the Bonaparte Lookout and summit, so this makes the total run 15.5 miles with 3,800 feet of climbing. We knew it would be a great run for spending at least 5 hours on our feet and having some technical single track practice. 

     We started on crunchy, frosty trail at 7:30 in the morning. The sun was mixed with clouds and the air was cold and crisp. Shona led the way along the nicely cleared trail.  It was a cold start, but we began to warm up quickly. I stopped to shed layers and reminded myself that this is the time of year to start out on the trail cold. I always warm up quickly and then have to break my rhythm by stopping shortly in to strip off layers I no longer need. These are the lessons to remember when the seasons are transitioning.

     It was nice to be out running on this trail. I had hiked it with my friend Lisa just 2 weeks prior, after having several bouts of pancreatitis through the later part of the summer. I didn't know when I'd be able to get out on runs again, or if I'd be able to run Baker Lake. I had originally signed up for the 100k distance at Baker Lake, but dropped to the 50k after these painful abdominal episodes forced me to cut back on training. I was grateful to be feeling normal now, running along behind Shona as if these pains had never come around.

     We reached the summit and enjoyed the views from this 7,257 foot perch. We could see the Canadian mountains, the Okanogan Highlands and its dry pasture lands, small surrounding hills and the distant Kettle Crest Range. After a snack and a few photos, it was time to descend back down to the main trail. We had about 5 1/2 miles to go to get around the rest of Bonaparte. This side of the mountain was damper with several creek crossings. The forest flora was different. This change in terrain kept us moving forward at a good pace. The wild raspberries were gone and the fall colors drew my eye off of the trail. Sometimes its amazing to see the vivid colors of nature, especially in this season where life is preparing for the cold of winter to come on. 

     I kept up a good amount of energy on this run by snacking on tempeh strips I had prepared at home ahead of time. I also had a soy cheese quasadilla on a whole wheat tortilla, Justin's almond butter pouch, Gu Chomps, Hammer Cafe Latte Perpetuem and a newer product called Fuel 100 Electro-Bites in Salty Vanilla. They tasted good as I shared them with Shona on one of the sweet mossy bridges. Electro-Bites' slogan is "Fuel the Miles" and they are made with coconut oil. They are also gluten and soy free.  I didn't know much about them when I pulled the extremely light weight package from my pack and offered some to Shona. She loved them immediately and she sometimes is particular about what she can stomach on a long run. She liked their salty and non- offensive aftertaste. We both liked how easy them were to eat because they simply dissolve in your mouth. Shona messaged the company with praises of the energizing little snack and they sent her their newest flavor to try before anyone else, Pumpkin Spice, a packet for each of us. I am looking forward to pulling them out at just the right moment on my next long run.

      Shona and I both stayed strong to the end of our loop run. We finished in just under 6 hours. We both felt confident that we could run Baker Lake the following weekend. We knew it would have its challenges, its high points and low points. That is what running an ultra marathon is all about. We always go into them with big question marks about what obstacles might appear for us to conquer. If we knew ahead of time, it just wouldn't have the same appeal. Sometimes the challenges are mental and sometimes they are physical. Defeating either during hours spent moving through nature along a trail, has healing benefits a runner will experience well beyond the finish line.   
            

2013 Baker Lake 50k Trail Run: Third Time is a Charm

     The Kulshan Campground had a familiar feel as we pulled up on Friday evening. Ras, our daughter Angela and I were all going to run along Baker Lake the next day. I was excited to be sharing the experience with Angela of running her first 50k. I would also run the 50k and Ras would run the 100k, starting at 6:00 a.m.

     Earlier that week, I had gotten a late night call from Angela who was trying to make her final decision about running Baker Lake. I had first mentioned it to her in the early part of summer. Ras had then brought the idea up to her again, after hearing about the 15 hour cut-off the race directors had just announced. Angela had worked all summer long for the Forest Service on a trail crew. She was used to spending hours on the trail, either working hard with heavy tools or carrying a 60 plus pound backpack with all of her supplies in it for a nine day stint in the back country. Ras and I both knew she was up for the challenge. We offered to cover all of the expenses involved with running the race, including picking her up from the University of Washington campus, where she is a student in her junior year.  We said we'd drive her back to Seattle after the race and take her out to Pizza Pi, our favorite vegan pizzeria.

     As the idea sunk in that Angela would be running her first 50k, I began to brainstorm how this would change my packing for the trip. I had offered to set her up with any gear she might need to borrow. I wanted to make sure I gathered up anything that would help her succeed in her first ultra marathon; her first running race of any kind, for that matter.  I also wanted to bake some vegan chocolate chip banana muffins and cook up a big tofu scramble to reheat in our camp after the race. This is a nice tradition I've developed and I like to have a good meal like this after a long run. Home cooked food, was part of what enticed Angela to decide to join us at Baker Lake this year, the third year in a row for Ras and I. This is where I had run my first 50k in 2011; now it was Angela's turn.

     After setting up our camp and getting our running kit ready for the next day, Angela went off to her tent to get a good night's sleep. She was fighting off a cold and hoped to be feeling better by the morning. Runner friends started trickling in to the camp and a fun and lively conversation ensued. Tim and Angel Mathis camped next to us. Adam Gaston and Broeck Jones were also part of the camp. Adam Hewey, who ended up placing First Male Masters, joined us for the goofy stories we all shared about tooth “fairies” and eccentric artists, before heading off to our tents. 

     Angela and I said goodbye to Ras as he headed off into the darkness to begin his run, pre-dawn. It was fun to see other friends briefly, by headlamp, before they began their journeys that would last all day and into the dark again. There was still 2 hours to go before the 8:00 am race start for the 50k. Angela and I kept warm in our tents for a while and then we got up to have coffee and a light breakfast. I was impressed with Angela's calm demeanor on her first ever race morning. I showed her how to prepare her bib, ultra style.  She looked the part as she stood at the starting line, all ready to go. I knew she would be faster than me and was prepared to watch her take off ahead, but also ready to help her set a pace if she needed it. Race director Terry Sentinella sent us on our way. As we crossed the Baker Dam and headed up the Forest Service road, my suspicions were confirmed. She peered back at me over her shoulder just a few times, and before I knew it, she had disappeared off down the windy single track. I would not see her again until half way across the suspension bridge that spans the Baker River, just before the 15.5 mile turn-around. 

      My friend and running partner Shona Hilton and her husband Steve were also running. She took off ahead of me up the wide road. I didn't even see her in the distance after the race start. I settled into a relaxed pace, keeping a calm mind and wanting that to transfer over to a calm stride. The trail had some roots and rocks, but over all was fairly smooth and non-technical. I had rolled my ankle twice during this race last year and had somehow remembered the trail to be covered in little obstacles ready to trip me up at any time. I was determined to run the trail this year with focus and mindfulness. Having told myself this from even before race day, by the time I hit the course, my body was in tune with my vision. I felt strong and light as I ran along, comfortable with where I was in the pack and content at being alone in the forest. I almost had to pinch myself to make sure I was not dreaming; that it was possible to feel this good during an ultramarathon. 

     The 100k runners had already reached the turn-around and were now heading back in my direction. I saw many familiar faces, exchanged hugs with oncoming runners, shared words of encouragement with complete strangers and welcomed the hand held out to me by a male runner as I hopped down off of the slippery log bridge crossing. There was a friendly energy on the course with the out n'back nature of the run and the 100k runners passing by two times.

     I had looked forward to seeing Ras after he hit the turn-around and the big aid station there. He was all smiles when I saw him. We gave each other a big hug, swapped quick updates as to how we were doing, took a selfie and got on our way. It was uplifting to see him and I pushed on, enjoying the lush green forest and damp air, filled with the scent of fallen maple leaves.

      I know the importance of keeping a good hydration balance throughout a long run and also maintaining a steady flow of energy through snacking and/or sipping on sports drinks. I use Hammer Perpetuem for ease in steady sipping and I stayed on top of this throughout the run. I also snacked on Gu lemon flavored Chomps, wasabi & tamari flavored almonds, and spicy peanuts, all of which I carried with me in my running vest. At the aid stations, I enjoyed grapes, pretzels, chips and coke. Terry and Joe Tompkins did a great job at organizing this race and putting together aid stations with a good variety of sustenance. The course was perfectly marked and the volunteers were friendly and on top of it. I would love to go for five finishes and earn the prize that goes along with that status. There were many runners this year going for different levels of finishes, including 79 year old Barbara Macklow running her 7th Baker Lake. 

     I was wearing my Ultimate Directions Peter Bakwin pack for the first time during an ultra. I'd used it for unsupported runs a number of times already and I really like many features of the pack. The fabric and structure of the pack is very lightweight. I like the way the bottles are easy to grab out of the front pouches and put away after sipping. I also like the sip bottles themselves, which are easy to use. I like the easy access to snacks while running. Behind the side zip pouches is an opening where you can tuck other things and velcro it closed. I like to put my perpetuem 10 ounce flasks in that opening. There are lots of little places to put things - more so than in any other pack I've tried. There is lots of room in the main zip pouch in the back which zips open on one side. The other side of the pack zips open to reveal a smaller pouch that is on top of the main pack compartment. I like that there is only 1 zipper per pouch for access.  The size might have been more than I needed for a 50k, but its what I have. I like the front features a lot for even a 50k, supported distance, but they hold enough supplies for longer, all night trips as well. The versatility is nice and saves money. I heard feedback that the smaller Anton Krupicka model of this pack has less accessible side pockets. The AK's size isn't large enough for unsupported adventure runs, which I like to do. I would recommend the PB model. 

      Its always fun to see my friend and race photographer Glenn Tachiyama and this time was no exception. He finds the best spots to hang out, sometimes even hiding from the unsuspecting runner. I can't help but smile when I see him, mostly from surprise and enjoyment at literally running into him in the wilderness, but also because he is just a nice guy. The last time I happened upon him was after a 6,000 foot climb to reach the top of Angel's Staircase in the Sawtooth Wilderness (Rainshadow Running's Angel's Staircase 35k/60k held in August). There he was, amidst a 360 degree view of rugged mountain ranges and pure blue sky. This time, I came around a bend, approaching a nice wooden bridge situated high over a loud and rushing waterfall.  There were huge ferns and thick blankets of dark green moss all around. Giant cedar and fir trees towered around the whole scene. He was at the other end of the bridge, ready to snap shots. So fun! The next time I saw him I paused to thank him for messaging me with vegan baking ideas, which almost interrupted his evocative shot of John Bandur.   

     I continued to feel good on the run, enjoying the surrounding beauty of the old growth forest and being in the moment. I often thought of Angela and how she was doing up ahead of me. I got reports from friends running towards me that had already passed her. Everyone said she was looking strong and doing really well. I couldn't wait to hear the story of how her race had gone for her when I reached the finish line. This anticipation kept me moving forward, as well as the two ladies behind me that kept me feeling pressured to stay in front of them. I saw Ras again as he headed towards the end of the lake where the Baker River begins and the final turn-around would await him. I gave him my team wrist-band to wear for the rest of his run. He had forgotten his at home and our kind of dorky routine of wearing these hand crocheted red, gold and green wrist bands had become somewhat important. We had decided ahead of time that I would just pass it off to him when I was on my final stretch along the lake and he still had some mileage. Amazingly, I had remembered this little detail.

      Takao Suzuki was also on the trail with his camera. He captured some great shots of runners. He was dropped off at the turn-around aid station and moved his way along the trail. Its fun to see the pictures he shot of runners from different spots, sometimes being caught by surprise as a runner came up behind him suddenly or around a bend in the trail. Our local running community is lucky to have both of these talented photographers, with unique styles, working at just about every Washington ultra event. They both travel out of state as well. 

       Kevin Douglas was running the final aid station, which was well stocked. I snacked on a few grapes, pretzels and chips. I made sure I had enough water for the final 5.5 miles. The First Place Male 100k runner quickly passed through on his way to the finish. It was fun to see him take off, headed for the win. I took off from the aid station with fresh energy. I knew I would stay feeling good for the final miles. I had reached a point in my running where I didn't bonk during a 50k. I pushed through the single track, looking forward to hitting the final 1 ¾ miles on the Forest Service road. I passed an older man on the final stretch of single track and then I hit the road.  Ahead I could see a female runner and by the way she was moving, I knew I could pass her as well. I took off running fast on the open road, with no obstacles to worry about. My legs still felt good and it was easy to push myself.  Then up ahead, I could see a familiar looking blue Camel Back pack on a female runner. There were little blond bunches poking out of a running hat.  It was my running partner Shona. She was making some adjustments with her pack and was walking when I saw her. I hooted to her to catch her attention. She looked back at me and I excitedly thrust my fists in the air. I was really happy to see her and I continued the “sprint” I was in to catch up to her. It was a blast finishing the race this way. I caught up to her and we were both happy to push to the finish together. We had about a mile to go. We shared a few words, but mainly just good vibes and a feeling of comfort to have somehow had this serendipitous meeting. We had run many training miles together-the 15.5 mile , 4th of July Ridge Trail that encircles and summits  Bonaparte Mountain, gaining 3,800 feet in elevation ; and into the Pasayten Wilderness to the 6,000 foot high Sunny Pass for our last training runs the week prior to this race. We really didn't know how race day would go for either of us, but we couldn't have imagined meeting up just in time to cross the finish line together. 

     We crossed the finish line in 8:24:23 and Terry was there to hang the cool medals around our necks I had beat last year's time by 28 minutes. Angela was there, all smiles from her great run with a finishing time of 7:36:11. She had an awesome  first 50k. Two large tables were filled with cookies and chips, hot soups and grilled burgers~ even veggie!! Coffee and soda were available, 80's music was playing and the after-race area was a place to relax and enjoy the company of other spent and endorphined-out ultrarunners. 

     Ras finished his 100k with a time of 16:20:26 and had stories of a bad headlamp battery mishap. He was mainly happy to see Angela and let her know how proud he was of her awesome performance and finishing time.  We went back to our camp and shared stories of our days running along Baker Lake. I heated up the tofu scramble and roasted potatoes I had made at home. Angela went off to her tent, feeling tired and happy about a run “that wasn't that hard”. 

  

     I awoke the next morning to what sounded like rain drops on the maple trees behind the tent. The tent itself was sopping wet with heavy dew. I stepped outside into the damp morning air and realized what I was hearing was the dew drops landing on the trees. The air was filled with a heavy mist and it was a perfect way to wake up. Slowly, everyone in the camp awoke and gathered around the picnic table for coffee, muffins and more laughs.  The friendships gained through sharing these endurance runs is very special. Each time we gather and hit the trails, whether running together or apart, our bonds grow stronger and our stories we share are more meaningful. We dream up ideas of future runs we'd like to share. Then we all go off to live our separate lives, running on our local trails, until the next trail adventure brings us back together again. 

"If I objectify the race it becomes my opponent. If I simply run the race full-heartedly with gentleness, it becomes my ally. Gentleness allows us to utilize all the aspects of what is happening in the environment and to build a positive base around it."

-- Sakyong Mipham, "Running with the Mind of Meditation"