AT & JT Conquer The TRT

"Every day you can run is a good day." - JT

As part of my b-day celebration, I had planned to run a 50K race up in Tahoe along some of the most beautiful alpine scenery in western Nevada. But as I am seemingly prone to do, I over-trained, rested little and wound up with a minor hip/low back injury that prevented me from starting the race. It was a tough decision to not start the race, but I think it was a sound one that will save me many, many months of pain and rehab.

The good news is that I caught it EARLY (like within the first two weeks)…whereas before I would have run through it for at least a month, and in this case, probably through the race. ;) Maybe I am getting wiser with old age! The even better news is that, after less than two weeks of NO running and intense physical therapy (or what I lovingly refer to as “pain therapy”), I am already running again. It’s very slow…think snail pace…and only a mile or two at a time....but it's running and as my dad (aka JT) always says, "Every day you can run is a good day." What a smart man!

With my speedy rehab, JT and I set out to do a hike in lieu of my bday ultra run. We naturally chose one of my favorite sections of the Tahoe Rim Trail (TRT). (NOTE: JT is a PT – physical therapist – but does not treat me. And my real PT, whose initials are also AT, was none too thrilled that both JT and I thought it was a “good idea” for me to do a 17-mile mountain hike while still “injured”…puh-leaze!) While only half the 50K distance, it would still be challenging…especially for me, as I prefer to run not hike. In fact, I had done this 17-mile section multiple times before, but almost always as an out-and-back 34-miler RUN from our house in Incline Village. So to HIKE it, in reverse, one-way only, was way beyond anything I’ve ever done. I do like a good challenge.

(ABOVE: JT and I at the "starting line" at Spooner Lake.)

So after a hearty breakfast of mochas, bear claws and danishes (I did mention it was my bday weekend…so b-day calories don’t count, right?), my mom drove us to our starting point at Spooner Lake (elevation about 6500’). With Salomon daypacks brimming with slushy Gatorade, Power Bars and trail mix, we bid adieu to a mother who couldn’t get over the fact that we didn’t have a “survival pack” handy on us. (First aid kits apparently weren't enough for her.)

One of the reasons I love this 17-mile section is that you get to see and do it ALL. The first 5-6 miles are a good climb up to about 9200’ where the trail literally drops you off on a peak overlooking Marlette Lake – a true blue alpine lake nestled along the backside of the mountains surrounding Lake Tahoe. I had run this section last year in the first week of June and there was 3-4 miles of snowpack. But this year (3 weeks earlier), there was only about 15 feet of patchy snow -- a foreboding sign of impending drought in NorCal? Time will tell. But, as my mom would say, man a living, was it gorgeous at Marlette!

(Left: Coming over peak with Marlette Lake in front of us.)

(Below: While JT tried to find a “safe” and sturdy way around a patch of trail that was no more, I climbed above like Spiderman and practiced my bouldering skills (which was also a good way for me to gauge my right hip pain/weakness).

After a mile walk around Marlette, the trail spits you out at the top of the Flume Trail – recently rated as one of the nation’s top ten mountain bike trails. For the next 4.5 miles, the single-track trail follows right along the mountainside facing Lake Tahoe. On average, the trail is about 3 feet wide and there's quite a STEEP drop-off should you carelessly miss a step. These 4.5 miles are all flat, so JT and I decided to do a little casual running, just to see how we felt running at 8,000' and to again gauge my hip pain. Um, excuse me JT, but I’m running along a ridgeline at 300 feet above one of the most beautiful pieces of mountain lake scenery known to mankind, not to mention I'm feeling light and loopy from the high altitude. So yeah, I’m going to feel great! I'm on TOP of the world!!

(Left: On top of the world above Sand Harbor.)

(Below: Me on a rock jetting out over a cliff.)

Along the Flume Trail, we chatted about everything from the upcoming presidential elections to the egregious selfishness of pro basketball players and the resilient patience of NBA coaches for putting up with the such immature players. I'd walk out as close to the edge on the cliffside, and JT would hug the mountainside; he said he'd promise Mom that not only would we return, but we'd return with all body parts still attached. A Thomas always keeps his promise.

Overlooking the crystal blue waters of Sand Harbor, I really did feel like I was standing on top of the world. That was, until we reached mile 11.5 at the top of the TRT known as Tunnel Creek (just below Twin Lakes, which were already dry this early in the season -- double yikes!). That's when I stupidly looked down at my watch and saw that we were almost 3 hours into our trek. Growing tired and cranky, I thought to myself, I would be done by now if I was running! In long runs/hikes, sometimes you just reach a point where you want to be done - finis! And I had definitely reached that point. It was going to be a good 90 minutes to do the last 5+ miles and so I had to find a way to suck it up and forget about running.

The next 3 miles were downhill and hiking this can be more difficult than hiking up because gravity wants to pull you down faster than your legs can walk (and running downhill was painful on my hip). With the gorgeous views of the lake it wasn't too hard to lose myself in thoughts of how lucky I am to be able to go out and do this type of activity, especially in such beautiful places -- and with one of my heroes, JT. Days like these, I revel in the saying, "It doesn't get much better than this!"

(Left: JT walking downhill faster than moi! Not bad for an old guy!)

We reached the famous Ponderosa Ranch, threw around ideas about what they should do with the land and bantered about the excessive over-development of this pristine national forest (I being the ever conservative environmentalist, while JT wanting to "Keep Tahoe Blue" but still happy about the Starbucks that appeared in Incline about two summers ago.) Just 2 miles to go now and we were finally on the homestretch - literally our homestretch - a 2-mile route that we run countless times during the year - rain, sun, snow and ice. The route runs one mile along Lakeshore Drive (right along the Lake Tahoe shore, duh) and past the extravagant yet gorgeous multi-million dollar mansions, past the restored Old Tahoe style Hyatt (the one real hotel in Incline Village) and then uphill 1 mile, along the golf course, to our cabin -- where we were greeted enthusiastically by Mom, Arlo and Teddy.

AT & JT conquered this section of the TRT. But never ones to get too excited about our feats, AT is already planning to conquer yet another section of this famed 165-mile trail on our next Tahoe adventure. 10% of the way there and excited about the remaining 90% - whether running or hiking! It's going to be an awesome Tahoe summer for sure. And truly, it doesn't get much better than that!

Challenge yourself today!

Alikona

(View from above flume trail. Note the picturesque clouds.)

My First un-Boston

Every 3rd Monday in April, the grand city of Boston celebrates Patriot Day -- yes, it is an official holiday complete with NO school, NO work, and ALL play. The town supposedly "shuts down" with the exception of a little century-old event that attracts tens of thousands of participants and seemingly hundreds of thousands of spectators: the Boston Marathon. This past Monday, April 16th - which tragically became a day of historical notoriety in another of the original 13 colonies, Virginia - marked the 111th annual Boston Marathon. And unlike recent years, where the thermometer soared into the 80s by the noontime race start, this year's race had to be started early (at 10AM), due to a hammering NE storm that brought gusts up to 30-40mph and inches upon inches of rain. Yikes!!! To all my compadres who finished the 26.2 mile trek through the neighborhoods of Boston, I salute you. You are tough, you are amazing, you are committed, and you did it! All my congratulations to you.

I almost watched with envy as the race went on...and I say "almost" because I don't know that I would have wanted to be running in those conditions. Still, there was something about this year's race that fascinated me, particularly the 98% of starters who finished in absolutely miserable conditions -- and with little prospect of a PR. For some strange reason, it inspired me enough on my own run today that I haphazardly decided to run my own 26.2...

I came home from work Friday around 7, completely exhausted and immediately jumped into bed. To say I wasn't feeling well would be an understatement. With Teddy sniffing my butt, I crawled on my hands and knees to the toilet and rested my head in the white porcelain bowl for a time. I had pulled two all-nighters during the week and either the lack of sleep or the stress was catching up. Twelve hours later I awoke to partially blue skies. A storm was brewing and though I still felt tired, I knew I had to get in a long run ASAP, or else the storm would sideline me. I fiddle-farted around for a while...trying to wake up my stiff body, eat some energy, drink lotsa caffeine. Although I really did want to do a long run, I think I was kinda half-hoping that the storm would hit hard and I could have a semi-good excuse to not put in several sloppy hours out stomping through the rain and mud. But that was not meant to be.

I drove out to my starting point...Rattlesnake Bar...intercepting a call from my mom to let her know that I would be out running. "How long?" "Oh, I dunno...a couple hours." I replied. To myself I thought, "If I'm lucky!" I scarcely knew if I would be able to run 10 miles, yet alone the previous goal of 24.

As I made the 45-minute drive out to Loomis, I decided to really try to get in my 24 miles...even if it meant I had to walk half of it. I had packed enough food and water to last me at least 8 hours. So why not? I planned my attack -- do a 4 mile out-and-back in one direction and then do the 20 mile out-and-back the other direction (to Auburn). There were good turning (aka "bail out") points around the way, so if I was doing really miserably....

By about noon(the traditional boston start time), I had packed my two water bottles and emergency waist pack (stuffed with gels, gus and a pop tart!), and I was off on my short out-and-back. After just two miles, I couldn't help but to feel good. The trail was rolling downhill and fast, the sky was blue, the robins were singing and there was not a soul about to dampen my spirits. As I sprinted down a particulary steep 15% section, I nearly fell upon a grand idea: Why not run my own "un-Boston"? what's a couple more miles? Instead of hundreds of thousands of people, I could do it solo. And instead of pounding my body against hard pavement, I could do it on trails. And instead of hundreds of screaming Wellesley girls to cheer me on and kiss me at the halfway point, I would run by waterfalls on the Auburn-Cool trail and let the sun and rain shower me with energy and kisses. A new tradition was born....the first (annual?) Alikona un-Boston!

And what a day it was! From cool sunny blue skies that redddened my cheeks, to humid air that dampened my clothes, and ultimately gentle raindrops that came sprinkling down throughout the final hour of my 26.2+ mile journey -- I experienced it all -- just like any other marathoner. The first 6 miles felt easy and fun...I left my ipod Shuffle turned off and used that hour to mentally plan my travel schedule through June, my work schedule through May, and most importantly, my running/workout schedule for the upcoming week. Miles 8-12 were technical, up-and-down sections and it was about then that I started questioning my goal and wondering if perhaps I was being over-zealous in wanting to run a marathon today...only one day after having my head in the toilet and a week with little sleep. Or maybe I was just plain stupid! I fell back on my personal scapegoathe "I'm a blonde! What do you expect?" As I briefly planned an escape route to cut it to 18 miles, I rationalized that any sane 25-year old would certainly NOT be out running an unofficial marathon just for the kicks. What a silly, silly girl I was!

But then a perfectly timed sign from Enimem! As"Lose Yourself" came onto my ipod, I totally pumped up and began singing along, "This is it, Alikona! You've only got one shot..." I thought about my BIG race coming up in the Sierras on my birthday weekend - a 35 miler that experiences 13,000 feet in elevation change at ALTITUDE (6,000'+). I reminded myself that I just needed to get to the halfway point and then I could walk a little, for miles 13.5-16 would be a grind. 1000+ feet grind of a climb. When I alas came out of the "hole" about mile 16, I took a little detour at the 7-Eleven in Auburn (my one un-"aid station") and bought myself a Dr. Pepper and some gatorade. The only time I drink soda is when I'm running (or just after a long run)...why does that carbonation taste soooo freaking good??? After several strange looks from other patrons and drivers on the road (I was running in a skort, legs caked in dirt, and rocking out to Jimi Hendrix), I hopped back on the trail totally rejuved and ready to tackle miles 16.5-20.... which would be all downhill! Yippee!!!

(This is the view from the top of the mountain, looking down into the American River canyon. I had run all the way from past that point where the narrow rivers into the horizon.)

Either it was the sugar rush from the soda or being 1,500 feet above sea level, but I felt as high as a kid at 4/20. ;) I flew down the mountain and made it to mile 20 right about 3hrs 40min -- my Boston qualifying time. How funny is that?!?! I thought, If this was a road marathon, I'd be done by now! But instead I still had 6 miles to go....and the chances of "hitting the wall" were increasing exponentially. About that time, I really started stiffening up....just as the clouds darkened and stirred, the winds howled and I knew the storm would open at any moment. The race was officially on -- who could finish or start first?!?! Kona the Krazy Kid or Mr. Rainman. And so I was off!! Climbs that I had previously walked, I now ran. I was terrified to stop - fearful that if I did, I wouldn't be able to get started again. I didn't mind so much if the rain started pouring, my shirt was already drenched from sweat and the humidity. But as the thermostat dropped faster, my fingers became numb. I was smuggling hard raisins, and I could see the goosebumps becoming more pronounced. Hypothermia has never been a friend to me. And so I ran, pushing harder and farther than I thought my body could go. I thought about the Russian woman who won Boston this year - how she threw down a 5:20-mile at mile 25 to break away from the pack and claim the $500K prize purse. I kept pushing harder and ran 9-minutes for my last mile, good for the thrill of raising my arms in the air as I crossed the imaginary finish line at 26.2 miles with not a fan, spectator, or even a wild animal in sight.

I opened the trunk to my Highlander Hybrid and finally sat down, 4 hours and 40 minutes after I had set out to try to run 20 miles. It was a PW - personal worst for marathon times (about 10:30 pace) but then again this was a trail marathon...and I had done it alone, unsupported and untrained. Exhausted, wet, muddy and cold, I smiled. Rather, I beamed. I was a first ever un-Boston trail marathon finisher.

Life is good.

Alikona